Generational Change
The path back to Dawn Castle was as smooth as if someone had cleared the way ahead of them.
The mountain range that had been lashed by endless blizzards greeted them with brilliant sunshine the moment they entered its foothills, and not a single unidentifiable monster attacked them.
They arrived at night.
Shiron, who had returned to Dawn Castle without so much as a drop of blood or even a speck of water on his hands, walked the frost-covered corridor.
"Yuma. Where is Siriel's room?"
"I shall guide you."
He was practically coated in dust after weeks of camping, yet Shiron decided that delivering the Holy Sword to Siriel was more important than bathing right away.
After following Yuma down the hallway for a short while, a pure white door appeared before him. Yuma focused her senses and confirmed that Siriel was inside.
"Lady Siriel is within."
"Good thing I didn't waste the trip."
Dealing with a girl in her most sensitive years required caution. Shiron took several deep breaths and knocked on the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's me."
A short answer. That seemed to be enough to open a teenage girl's door. After a moment of hurried rustling from beyond, Siriel's figure appeared through the softly opened gap.
"Oh, when did you get back?"
"Just now."
"...I missed going out to meet you."
Siriel smiled awkwardly, as if embarrassed. Not only the smile but the way she twirled her hair was rather cute, yet Shiron's brow furrowed instead.
Did something happen?
The Siriel facing him looked unwell.
Dark circles ringed her eyes, and strands of hair clung to her forehead as though she had broken out in a cold sweat. He had wanted to chat about this and that while handing over the gift, but he could not very well keep a sick person talking, so it seemed best to simply deliver the present today and leave.
Shiron drew the Holy Sword from his coat and held it out to Siriel. Her eyes widened as she received the gift with both hands.
"......What is this?"
"What do you think it is?"
"..."
Faced with a question in return, Siriel could not answer and merely looked back and forth between the Holy Sword and Shiron. Given how carefully it had been wrapped and presented, it was clearly a gift—yet because of the Burning Spear incident, Siriel could not casually call it one.
"Are you... lending this to me too?"
"What are you talking about? It's a gift. A gift."
"......Thank you."
Siriel hugged the large sword tightly to her chest and bowed her head. Having confirmed her joy, he ought to end the conversation here. Shiron took a step back from the door.
"Already? At least stay for a cup of coffee."
"What coffee when the day's already over. You look exhausted—you should sleep too."
"Ah... yeah."
"Don't go swinging the sword around just because you got a gift. Your condition doesn't look good, so rest properly."
"Yeah. Thanks for worrying about me."
Shiron turned his back and walked farther away, and Siriel slowly waved toward his receding figure.
She closed the door feeling a regret heavier than the sword in her arms.
Yet it was also true that she had been exhausted from not sleeping properly for the past few weeks.
Siriel plopped down on the bed and unfastened the leather belt wrapping the sword.
A jewel-like blade was revealed.
It possessed a beauty more suited to display than to actual combat. The moment she touched it, mana flowed into her with a soft rush.
"..."
It was a sword splendid enough to draw successive gasps of admiration even from those who knew nothing of blades—yet Siriel could not react that way.
...It's exactly like the sword I saw in my dream.
Siriel lifted the sword with trembling hands. Shiron had given no explanation whatsoever, yet she could clearly speak its name.
Spica.
The dreams that had tormented her so viciously these past few days that she could scarcely sleep had not been mere nightmares.
The contents of the dream... have become reality.
That fact alone was reason enough for the blood to rush to her head.
"Get lost. You're in the way."
Not now—the sword had been held by a somewhat older Siriel.
The self in the dream was a little more grown than she was now.
"We planted the same seed, so how can they turn out so different?"
The adult "me" hurled curses at an older brother who looked even more aged than she. Same seed? Who was she comparing him to?
Lucia?
"A piece of trash who isn't even qualified."
"Does one necessarily need to be qualified?"
The older brother in the dream spoke quietly, yet his expression was twisted with malice, looking almost like a ghost. An appearance unimaginable right now. What kind of experiences must he have endured to wear such a face?
The more she watched their conflict, the worse she felt inside. She pitied her adult older brother, and even found herself thinking she did not want to grow up...
Siriel hated the adult version of herself who treated her brother so cruelly. She gritted her teeth.
Click—
Click— Click—
Then she turned off the light and roughly lay down on the bed.
For dreams. To dream more dreams... to understand why the adult her treated her brother so badly.
Only then...
Earnestly wishing to change the future, Siriel roughly rubbed her burning eyes.
The next morning.
In the largest hall of Dawn Castle, everyone who resided there had gathered.
"Lucia Prien."
Glenn Prien faced Lucia in the center of the room. With his previously unkempt hair tidied and wearing a formal uniform that radiated dignity, he projected an unmistakable air of authority.
Glenn recalled the sight he had witnessed at the Prien family tomb.
Siriel [Lucia]
The name that shone most brilliantly upon the giant stone monument.
"You were the one who shone the brightest."
"...Yes."
"You are the Young Family Head."
Clap clap clap clap clap—
The moment Glenn finished speaking, the room filled with applause. Every maid who guarded Dawn Castle struck their palms together as one, and Shiron and Siriel offered Lucia congratulations filled with genuine warmth.
Yet the face of the Lucia receiving everyone's praise looked somehow uncomfortable. Seeing that expression, Glenn let out a hearty laugh.
"You don't look happy."
"...I am happy."
"You may speak honestly. As Family Head, I permit it."
"..."
At Glenn's words, Lucia turned to look behind her.
Shiron, who had been smiling without a care in the world, mouthed something.
What? Do you need to pee?
"Ha..."
Lucia faced Glenn once more and opened her mouth.
"Being the Young Family Head... is a good thing, right?"
"Hmm? Of course it is. Better than not having it."
At Glenn's answer, Lucia hesitated for a moment.
"Honestly, I don't really know what a Young Family Head even is. And I don't understand why I have to receive it either."
"Hmm..."
Glenn stroked his smooth chin as he considered the advantages of the title. Money? Honor? The envy of other houses? Jealousy? The feeling of having become a superior human being? The elation of having proven oneself? If nothing unexpected occurred, Lucia would one day become the Family Head of House Prien. Was that not enough?
Am I, as the Family Head of Prien, happy?
The answer to that was no.
Glenn decided what he would say to the child who shone like a jewel.
"You are the greatest Prien. The title of Young Family Head proves it."
"...I see."
"Then, finally..."
Glenn drew a single sheet of paper from his coat. The old, worn paper stained by the hands of successive Family Heads was a keepsake he had received from his own father.
"My child. You have gained power. The destiny given to you..."
Convinced that Lucia had obtained the power of Prophecy, Glenn spoke. To the child who shone brightest in all the world, he offered words of blessing until his mouth went dry.
The Imperial Palace of the Rihnn Empire.
Within the palace surrounded by red walls, the Emperor faced his retainers as he always did.
"A detailed report on this quarter's expedition has arrived."
"...I see."
"Hugo Prien has requested an audience during the morning audience."
"...Denied. There is a court banquet soon, is there not? We shall see him then."
"Then I shall convey it as such."
"You may withdraw."
With the final report, the Emperor waved his hand as if shooing the retainers away.
In the emptied audience chamber, Franz tried to rise from the throne with his creaking body.
Thud—
Franz could not rise from the throne. His entire body felt heavy, as though something were dragging him down, as if he were wearing thoroughly soaked cotton clothes. He had no choice but to call the chamberlain standing attendance at his side...
"Chamberlain."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"My cane—no. Give me your arm."
"Yes."
Franz received the chamberlain's support while breaking out in a cold sweat.
This is driving me mad.
His age was only just past the mid-fifties. It was not an age at which one should be so frail as to need help simply to walk...
The symptoms grow worse by the day.
The clear abnormality filled Franz with a murky suspicion.
Poison? A curse?
At whose instigation? Every day he received examinations from the royal physician and detection magic from the court magician Arak, yet no poison or curse of any kind was ever detected.
Ordinary aging?
"Your Majesty."
Halfway down the corridor leading to the office, Franz heard a voice.
Turning, he saw a man who looked exactly like him.
The First Prince. Austin Breed de Rihnn.
A sickly prince who had been lame from birth and particularly plagued by minor illnesses. Word had it that his own condition was also growing more critical by the day.
Franz straightened his posture to maintain his dignity.
"Yes. What brings you here, Austin."
"The office lies just ahead."
"I am aware of that fact."
"You appear to be in quite serious condition."
"Is that why you stopped me?"
"As a subject before I am a son, I wished to offer counsel out of concern for Your Majesty's precious health."
Austin approached Franz with a limp. The cane in his hand was ash-gray, and though he had only just passed thirty, Austin's hair was already pure white.
Thump— Tap—
Thump— Tap—
Had he come to urge that the appointment of the Crown Prince be hastened...? Dark thoughts, suspicion among them, crowded Franz's mind.
Yet the words that issued from the First Prince Austin's mouth strayed far from every expectation.
"However, seeing that Your Majesty seems full of vigor, I am relieved."
"Is that so."
Franz faced the faint smile drawn upon Austin's lips.
"Then this humble servant shall take his leave."
"..."
Franz watched his son's receding back, then resumed his steps.