Fun
Fun.
Simon had done a great deal of thinking in a very short time. Was she genuinely entertained by playing with people like this? Or was it all just a means to shake him?
"Why did you call me out here, Serne Eindark?"
At his words, the girl perched in the tree glided down with effortless grace. Even her descent seemed slower than it should have been, as though gravity itself held only loose claim over her.
Platinum-blonde hair, flawlessly arranged features, and — like Lorraine — that distinct aura of hers that made people cower. The bearing of a monarch.
She was unchanged. Just as she'd been at the teleportation circle, she was still the kind of person for whom facing her at all felt like a burden.
"I wanted to talk with you."
A soft, honeyed voice. Simon thought he had never heard such a beautiful voice in his entire life.
But while his ears reveled, his brain was flashing warnings like a mad alarm, and goosebumps crawled slowly up his skin.
"Get to the point."
Simon's voice came out sharp.
"This makes the third time we've met, doesn't it~? They say three encounters make a fate."
"......"
"You don't look convinced? Well, fine."
He remembered the atmosphere being different the first time they met. Back then she'd seemed like a cultured, well-mannered daughter of privilege; now she felt like a cunning little devil. Simon suspected this was closer to her true self.
She turned on her heel, hands clasped behind her back.
"Simon Polentia. Or — shall I address you like this instead?"
A chilling smile curled across her lips.
"Seventh Legion Commander."
"......!!"
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His heart began to pound violently.
"Is Pier doing well? It seems Erzsébet didn't come with you. Or perhaps she's shapeshifted into someone else on this island?"
"......"
His most vital secrets — the ones that could never, ever come to light — were being peeled out of her lips one by one.
"You...!"
"Ah— don't worry. We're inside a barrier I made myself, so there's no chance of an Observer peeking in or eavesdropping."
"How do you know all of that?"
With someone who already knew far too much, denial was pointless.
She gave a gentle, knowing smile, as if telling him there was no need to rush.
"I like that you admit it right away, so I'll tell you. The second place we met. Do you remember where?"
"The teleportation circle, right before we left on the mission."
"At that time, you and I were the only first-years headed to the Carlos Kingdom."
She lightly brought her palms together.
"Didn't that strike you as strange?"
Simon bit his lip.
"So you've been watching me since then."
"Yes — actually, from even before that."
She closed her eyes and mimed tapping the empty air with her fingertip.
"A Class-1 secret of Kizen. The Ivory Tower had been keeping a careful eye on the ruins Nephthys had sealed away. I personally installed an alarm spell keyed to the moment the ruins opened — and a few days later, the alarm rang. I hurried over, and lo and behold."
She smiled.
"There you were, newly made a Legion Commander."
"......"
So that's how far back it went.
Simon's mind raced breathlessly.
"Then how did you learn about Erzsébet?"
"Isn't that obvious? When we crossed over by teleportation, I made a stop at Arnish to spy on you too. I read the memories of the lord of Arnish, the guard captain, the soldiers, the thieves' guild members, the dancers. And..."
The corners of her mouth lifted.
"Ellen Zeil, whom you set free. Do you realize how serious a crime that is? Deliberately sparing a Priest's life."
The pressure closed around his throat, slow and tightening. Simon forced out a smile.
"Ellen was an unaffiliated individual at the time. We're under a ceasefire now. Rather than needlessly murdering an innocent resident of the Holy Federation and stirring up trouble, it was a magnanimous release carried out under the terms of the prisoner accords. I hardly think it counts as a grave crime."
"Hmm~ what a smooth talker you are. Then again, I suppose you don't need trivial matters like that held over your head, do you?"
She laughed.
"You're already a criminal guilty of Class-1 treason."
"......"
"Did you know that the moment you contracted with Pier's Legion — a Legion that rebelled against the Dark Alliance — you inherited that same charge of treason? It's a matter grave enough that your exams could be suspended on the spot, and it would be no surprise at all if Kizen's Crows, spread across the whole continent, came crashing down onto this island."
Simon slowly pressed a hand to his forehead.
"...That's ridiculous."
"Do you have more excuses to offer?"
"If you knew all that, you could've reported it to Kizen and had me put on trial. Why come whisper it to the person involved, of all things?"
"I believe we've finally arrived at the real subject of our conversation."
Her smile turned sly and sweet.
"Join the Ivory Tower, Simon."
"......"
An offer of recruitment, out of nowhere. Simon sensed the situation sliding in a strangely orchestrated direction.
A little longer. Keep her talking just a little longer.
"If you want to recruit me, then do it formally in a recruitment contest after I graduate. With the Ivory Tower's wealth and influence, I doubt you'd lose one."
"I don't want a Kizen person who came out of Kizen."
"...What's that supposed to mean?"
She gave a little grin.
"Doesn't it make you curious? Kizen is, at most, a school. So why is it that a mere school organization governs half the continent?"
"......"
He had, of course, wondered that himself.
"Let's take nearby Dresden as an example."
She spread her fingers.
"Four of Dresden's five Grand Generals are Kizen graduates. Seventeen of the twenty royal knights are Kizen graduates. The Minister of the Interior, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, the Minister of Defense. And even—"
She folded every finger down and clasped her hands behind her back.
"The Chancellor. The second most powerful man in the kingdom is a Kizen man."
"......"
"Do you understand now? The power brokers of the Alliance are all one clique, calling each other senior and junior. They take pride above all else in having graduated from Kizen, and together they form a kind of cartel. They are more loyal to Kizen than to any nation or institution that pays their wages and grants their authority."
Dresden — and indeed most of the nations of the Dark Alliance — operated exactly this way. It was no exaggeration to say that key posts were almost entirely monopolized by Kizen graduates or their lackeys, save for the handful of royal appointees placed there specifically to check the 'Kizen cartel.'
Kizen held talent in the palm of its hand. And yet that wasn't a liability in seating anyone in high office — the ability and professional competence of Kizen graduates were transcendent. For the nations themselves, possessing Kizen talent was essential, if only to secure a stronger voice within the Alliance.
"Fine. Then the reason you're bringing all this up is—"
Simon lifted his head and looked at her.
"You need someone who can slip free of Kizen's influence and owe his loyalty to the Ivory Tower alone."
"As expected of someone so clever. I do enjoy how quickly you keep up."
She wanted not a Kizen graduate affiliated with the Ivory Tower, but a pure member of the Ivory Tower proper. It made sense.
"Do you think you have any choice?"
Serne's smile turned silken.
"Whether you die by execution for treason, or enter the Ivory Tower."
"......"
"And it's a fine place, you know? The best employer on the continent. Your classmate Meilin is there, and whatever you desire — money, power — you can have as much as you like..."
"Let me ask just one thing."
Simon spoke with grave seriousness.
"Do you need my own power? Or the Legion's?"
She smiled radiantly.
"Shall I say both? Out of courtesy."
"...My concern is this."
Simon bit his lip.
"I can't trust you yet. How would you prove that if I join the Ivory Tower, you won't strip the Legion away from me?"
She blinked.
"My, you have surprisingly low self-esteem~ I'd think that if you demonstrated your ability, there'd be no need for such worries."
"......"
"Well, fine. If you join the Ivory Tower, then as its successor, I promise you may keep your Legion. Now then — give me your answer, Simon Polentia."
Huuuuuh.
Simon exhaled a long, slow breath. He was being swept along at her pace far too completely right now. I need to take my pace back.
As he steadied his breathing and channeled his Jet-Black, the trembling in his body gradually stilled and the stray thoughts scattered away. At last, his head cooled, and Simon fixed her with a frost-hard gaze.
'The mood just changed.'
She sensed the shift in him too. But calming himself solved nothing — the situation remained exactly as it was.
"Serne. You..."
The corner of Simon's mouth twisted.
"You're bad at politics, aren't you?"
Her brow creased.
"Whatever do you mean by that?"
"Laying all your cards face-up and then trying to blackmail someone over them. It's a bad habit."
Serne had been a strong one since birth. She had never needed to think in complicated terms. A Yes or No to her demands. Life or death. No one could escape her forced choices — hiding one's cards was the behavior of the weak.
And so.
"You will never tell Kizen that I'm a Legion Commander."
This time, she had made a mistake.
"Oh my. And why would you think that?"
"Because you want out of Kizen's grip no matter what it takes."
"......"
For the first time, she did not answer.
"I've actually heard talk about that. That the Ivory Tower's insides are split between a pro-Kizen faction and an anti-Kizen faction."
"My, criticizing the internal affairs of the Tower. You do have excellent information networks~ Meilin wouldn't be foolish enough to spill Tower business."
It was, in truth, nothing more than idle table chatter from Dick over dinner — but no matter.
"You and the current Ivory Tower Master are textbook anti-Kizen. Why else would you be gathering Legion Commanders, building up your strength—"
Simon rested a hand on his hip.
"Because you want independence from Kizen. Am I wrong?"
"......"
"And yet you'd report me to Kizen and have me executed? Then tell me — who inherits my Legion?"
The corner of Simon's mouth curled upward.
"A necromancer far more powerful than I, one absolutely loyal to Kizen, becomes Legion Commander. If that happens, your independence slips further away than ever. And no — abducting me and having the Ivory Tower's necromancers graft the Legion out of me isn't an option either."
Simon crossed his arms and continued.
"Because that would be a genuine declaration of war on Kizen."
The abduction of Special Admission No. 1 — and that No. 1 turning out to be a Legion Commander, killed to tear his Legion free. If that ever came to pass, Nephthys would leave not a single speck of dust where the Ivory Tower stood. Historically, she had been nothing short of ruthlessly cold on matters of this kind.
"You know one thing and not the other."
Serne smiled serenely.
"If it comes to that, wouldn't this option also work? Eliminate you and bury the whole affair, so that no one ever claims the Legion."
"Ah-ha."
Simon grinned.
"Sorry, but that option doesn't hold up."
Simon yanked an imaginary lever and flung the subspace wide open.
[KHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!]
Serne flinched and took a step back.
A tall skeleton draped in a cloak of shadowless dark. The Ancient Undead Pier emerged from subspace.
Hard on his heels, skeletons kindling blue-black flames in their eye sockets and Erzsébet's corpse spiders came pouring through like demons spilling out of another dimension, a surging flood of them.
'Why is Pier here?'
Serne gritted her teeth.
'Surely they ran a subspace inspection at Kizen.'
"You said it yourself, didn't you? Within that barrier of yours, no Observer can see."
Simon smirked.
"That was your mistake, too."
Crack!
Snap!
Screeeeeee!
The Legion encircling Serne roared savagely, their fighting spirit blazing to life.