Lift the Red Wanted Order
Murmur, murmur, murmur, murmur!
Nephthys's announcement that the Legion of Betrayal had returned turned the closing ceremony grounds into absolute pandemonium. The crowd plunged into chaos.
'Nephthys...!'
Watching from behind the stage, Simon's face went deathly pale as well.
[Keh-heh-heh! That woman's done it again — kicked things off with a proper flourish!]
Pier's avatar was cackling away, but for some reason, Simon couldn't bring himself to laugh. His gaze drifted toward the crowd.
People stunned and shocked. People trembling in fear. People whose eyes glittered with intrigue. And people seething with rage.
"The Legion of Betrayal still exists?!"
"We must hunt them down and destroy them at once!"
A few of the more hot-headed spectators were already saying such things. The Kizen students, on the other hand — having never lived through the Legion of Betrayal incident themselves — could only watch the enraged crowd with bemused confusion.
"Silence."
At Nephthys's single word, the uproar died instantly.
"Manager Pier has already chosen a person of unknown identity as his contractor. The 7th Legion has returned, and its Commander has been working quietly behind the scenes of the Dark Alliance."
She unfolded a document.
"Not only the terror attack at this Dark Festival, but the Saintess incident from last year as well."
At the words Saintess incident, every eye in the square went wide.
"Beyond that — the Blood Heaven Sect, the Society, even Magnus, who attacked Pentamonium. Using his own independent intelligence network, he has been fighting countless enemies of the Dark Alliance."
Caught off guard by this unexpected turn, the spectators fell into a heavy silence and hung on every word.
"The lives he has saved are beyond counting, and he has taken nothing in return. Therefore, as Supreme Leader of the Dark Alliance, I hereby declare—"
She lifted her hand, eyes leaving the papers.
"—in the name of Nephthys Archbold, that the Red Wanted Order placed upon the 7th Legion is hereby lifted."
Murmur, murmur, murmur, murmur!
Excited journalists activated their Memorial Crystals and hammered away at the shutters of their mana recording devices. It was the dawn of a new era.
"Commander of the 7th Legion. You are here right now, aren't you?"
She swept her gaze across the crowd, and the spectators flinched, glancing furtively at the faces around them for no good reason.
"I desire conversation, not war. Present yourself."
A dreadful silence hung over the closing ceremony plaza, where tens of thousands had gathered. Behind the stage, Simon was trembling, biting down on his lip as cold sweat trickled down his spine.
'What do I do?'
Was he really being called out? Was now the right moment to reveal his identity? Nephthys herself had said it would take years — wasn't this far too sudden?
'I—!'
Just then, Nephthys's lilting voice brushed against his ear.
[If you wavered,]
The voice was meant for Simon alone. She had turned her head toward the back of the stage — toward Simon's eyes, precisely.
[then stay right where you are.]
"...!"
At those words, Simon froze as if turned to stone. Beads of sweat slid down along his bangs and dripped like dew onto the ground.
"As I thought."
Nephthys turned her gaze forward again.
"You won't come out. I know. You can't bring yourself to trust us just yet..."
"Lady Nephthys!"
A spectator kicked off from the ground and leapt onto the platform. Attendants rushed to seize his arms and drag him back down, but Nephthys raised a hand to stop them.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Corino, from Ballot in the Dresden Kingdom!"
Shaking off the attendants, he dropped to one knee. Nephthys gave a benevolent smile.
"Yes, dear Corino. What is it you wish to say?"
"Please, rescind your declaration! Rescind the lifting of the 7th Legion's Red Wanted Order!"
With bloodshot eyes, he hammered his fists against his own chest, again and again.
"I lost my wife to the spears of that abominable Legion of Betrayal!"
"..."
"All that remains in the hearts of my daughter and me is a deep wound. That wretched Legion of Betrayal must be erased from this world without a trace! They betrayed the Alliance! They murdered comrades they had fought beside for years — comrades who fought for the Priesthood!"
Tears spilled from his eyes.
"Has it not been the one absolute principle of the Dark Alliance since its very founding?! I care nothing for anything else, but the crime of betrayal can never — never — be forgiven!"
Great shouts of agreement rose from every corner of the square.
"I lost my friends!"
"My hometown burned to the ground!"
"Complete annihilation for the Legion of Betrayal!"
Simon felt his breath catch in his throat, a sour lump rising up it.
He'd had it far too easy.
If you wavered, then stay right where you are.
Nephthys had known all along that it would come to this.
"Dear Corino."
Nephthys spoke.
"Is your daughter here on this island?"
"Yes, she came to the Dark Festival with me—"
"What an irony."
A strange smile crossed her face.
"I grieve that you lost your wife to the 7th Legion. But today, it was the 7th Legion that saved your life and your daughter's."
"What — what do you mean—!"
"Hear me, all of you. The madman who warped reality itself upon entering Roke Island was not dealt with by us, but by his legion and its allies. Had the 7th Legion not existed, Roke Island would have sunk beneath the sea by now."
She began to walk, step by deliberate step.
"Dear people. To a necromancer, the undead are but tools. A tool bears no guilt — it is the hand that wields the tool upon which judgment must fall. A blade in a murderer's grip kills; the same blade in a surgeon's hand becomes the instrument that saves a life; in a chef's hand, a tool that feeds the people."
Speaking in an uncharacteristic register — refined, elegant, and steeped in antiquity — she came to a halt and spread her arms wide.
"The Holy Federation grows stronger without end. Their mysteries reach unto the heavens, and their blind faith in their god grows more tenacious by the day. We must face the reality that a single madman brought the entirety of Roke Island to the brink of ruin."
She clenched her small fist.
"It is often said that Priests gaze into the future of the afterlife, awaiting the 'Day of Judgment,' while necromancers touch 'dead corpses' and gaze into the past. But those bound to the past alone are left behind by the current. Beyond the Holy Federation, there exist third powers as well — the Blood Heaven Sect among them. We must grow stronger than before, and we need the strong now more than ever. This I say to the Commander of the 7th Legion."
She lowered her hand, her speech sliding back into its usual playful tone.
"I do hope we can have that conversation very soon!"
At that moment, the Dark Alliance elders seated in the back rows shot to their feet one after another.
"Announcing something of such import in a venue like this! What are you scheming, Supreme Leader?!"
"We heard no report of any of this!"
"But of course~"
Hand pressed to her cheek, Nephthys batted her eyes in a show of adorable innocence.
"It's not as though I'm obliged to report every little thing to the likes of you, now am I?"
"Yes, Lady Nephthys!"
"There is one more thing we cannot simply let pass!"
Another tall elder came shuffling forward, leaning on his staff.
"You said it yourself — the entire island of Roke was thrown into peril by that madman. This was an invasion by the Holy Federation! A grave provocation!"
He screeched at the top of his lungs.
"They must pay in blood! We must wage a war of righteous fury!"
Yes!
Kill the holy bastards!
Desecrate the corpses of the fanatics!
Voice after voice echoed in agreement. But Nephthys did not waver in the slightest. She simply smiled.
"Hehe, why, it feels like only yesterday when you were a fresh-faced young thing, building sandcastles with me, plucking wildflowers to make your confession~ Robert."
Embarrassment flooded the old man's face.
"Wh-what nonsense are you spouting!"
"Somewhere along the way your jowls sagged and your belly grew, and now you're nothing but wrinkles and greed. Do not speak of war so lightly."
She turned around slowly.
"If what you're dreaming of is a little war game — sending the young off to reenact the glory of the Dark Alliance while your days run short, and you sit safely in the rear collecting reports on how the battles go — then I shall personally fit each and every one of you with armor and plant you on the very front line."
The old man's wrinkled face flushed crimson. Nephthys bounced back a few steps on light feet and faced the crowd once more.
"Details are forthcoming, but this air raid by the madman was a matter separate from the Holy Federation. In fact, someone who cannot reveal their name on the Federation's side contributed enormously to finding the fanatic and striking him down."
The revelation that a Priest had aided them threw the crowd into utter confusion — all the more so because Nephthys was hardly the type to lie in front of ten thousand witnesses.
"Which means even that side has 'people one can talk to.' So long as dialogue flows and reason holds madness in check, there will be no war. But it is equally true that the Holy Federation and its hostile powers are growing stronger, and the moment the balance of power tips, the Dark Alliance will be in danger. That is plain reality."
She stretched out her arm.
"Only strength can protect us. The past is irrelevant. If something is useful, we take it — whatever it may be. Even if that something is..."
The corners of her mouth curled upward.
"...the Legion of Betrayal itself."
Nephthys's speech at the Dark Festival's closing ceremony sent shockwaves through the entire Dark Alliance.
Every newspaper in the Alliance rushed the story to print, plastering it across front pages before a single day had passed.
Public reaction split cleanly down opposite poles.
Though Nephthys had lifted the Red Wanted Order for the entire Dark Alliance, the Dresden Kingdom and the Shahed Kingdom — the two of the Four Great Kingdoms that had suffered direct losses in the incident — reacted with extreme hostility. Setting aside the Alliance's official directive, both kingdoms went so far as to issue wanted orders of their own at the national level.
Seizing the moment, the anti-Kizen faction — long drained of its power — rose up in unison as well, loudly insisting that they must secede from an Alliance led by a senile Nephthys who had forgotten the past and was now coddling the Legion of Betrayal.
Even stripping away all that political coloring, ordinary citizens remained divided down the middle. On one side, those who argued that the unforgivable crime of betrayal still stood, and the 7th Legion must be destroyed on sight. On the other, those who took Nephthys at her word: the undead were mere tools, so it would do no harm to judge the wielder first.
The only reason opinion had settled at a near-even split was that Nephthys had spent considerable time and expense cultivating moderate public sentiment even before her announcement.
The Kizen students — who hadn't lived through the incident themselves — leaned noticeably friendlier toward the 7th Legion. Life at Kizen bred a deep-seated belief in merit over all else, and plenty of students muttered that as long as they fought well and handled Priests capably, who cared about some old crime of betrayal?
Of course.
"Unforgivable."
"The Legion of Betrayal, of all things."
For students whose parents' generation had suffered directly, the Commander of the 7th Legion was nothing short of an enemy, and they ground their teeth at the thought. Hector was among them — the Moor family had been direct victims as well.
"What's with Hector's face?"
"Must be the whole Legion Commander business. Better steer clear unless you want to get caught up in it."
Listening to the murmurs around him, Simon stared blankly into empty air.
'...Good thing I didn't step out there back then.'
It wasn't only Hector. Quite a few students he was close with, or at least on familiar terms with, were declaring their intent to destroy the Commander of the 7th Legion.
[It seems the world is not yet ready for you to reveal yourself as Legion Commander.]
Pier said.
'Yeah. Seems not.'
Even though none of it had been his own doing, Simon had been fully prepared to bear the weight of it. Had his father not gone back to save his mother, he himself would never have been born. He would never have wielded Jet-Black and Divinity together. He would never have met precious bonds like Lethe and Israfil.
While Simon was lost in these deep thoughts—
"It has to be Eisel! Eisel is the Legion Commander!"
— a very peculiar rumor was circulating, centered on the third-years.
"That's it, that's it! If anyone could do it, it's Eisel!"
"So THAT'S why he's been away so long! Eisel is the complete package — the finished necromancer!"
Where on earth did they get this stuff?
Simon listened to the seniors' chatter with an expression of pure disbelief.
"Bwahahahaha!"
Will, the class representative, looked particularly pleased with himself.
"All that boasting about catching up to Phantassus — so there was a reason for it after all! So THAT was the secret mission, was it!"
He waggled his eyebrows at Simon.
"Eisel will be back before long! Think that boy can handle being a Legion Commander? Bwahahaha!"
"...Uh, hm."
Simon just smiled.
"Hey, everybody!"
Just then, Eshu's voice rang out from beyond the door.
"Quit lounging around and give me a hand!"
"?"
Simon turned to find her directing a swarm of summoned creatures, hauling huge logs across the yard.
"What's all this for?"
"The after-party, obviously!"
She winked.
"And what's a night party without a campfire? I ask you!"
In the center of the courtyard, enormous logs were being stacked, layer upon layer. Clearly they intended to do this in grand style — shrimp thicker than a man's forearm lay heaped nearby, and oak casks full of wine came rolling and tumbling across the grass.
"Classes go back to normal tomorrow! Let's burn the last night of the festival down to the ground!"
"You know it!"
Students from every department came bounding out in a rush of excitement. Simon, too, rolled up his sleeves and gladly headed out into the yard.