The First Snow of the Northern Empire
The First Snow of the Northern Empire
On the return voyage to Teveri, Aslan spoke with Maria.
He praised her quick thinking on a matter they hadn't discussed beforehand, and expressed relief that things had resolved as Grim had intended.
Once they had boarded the ship bound for Teveri and it finally docked, he laid out the detailed plan as well.
An account that encompassed King Gerald's current state.
The elf-transformation seed King Gerald had consumed was an item that, in the game, triggered an instant game over upon ingestion.
That was because becoming a elf stripped away one's fighting spirit and capacity for violence.
As far as Aslan knew, the only elf capable of combat—aside from a player who intentionally chose one as a playable race—was Fay. There were no exceptions to this transformation.
King Gerald was no different. He hadn't simply gained immortality and a elf's body; he was becoming a elf down to the marrow of his bones.
His ego remained intact. His memories as well. But Gerald would ultimately become an ordinary elf who could neither agree with nor sympathize with his former self.
The only real distinction was his rank as king.
The likelihood of such a king governing effectively? Virtually nonexistent.
That was where Maria became essential.
After most of the princes had perished in "unfortunate accidents," Maria was the sole remaining royal heir.
She would serve as regent, lead the Kingdom of Bida, and lend her aid as part of the alliance.
Maria agreed without hesitation.
At this point—with King Gerald effectively deposed—she had no reason to refuse.
Upon arriving in Teveri, Maria announced that she would borrow Richard as her proxy.
Richard himself pleaded not to go, but Aslan had Angie personally deliver him to Maria.
The look of betrayal on Richard's face as he was dragged off.
An expression that promised he would never forget this, that he'd grind his teeth in resentment—Aslan forgot it in an instant and retired with his companions to a suitable rented manor to rest.
Inside that borrowed manor, Angie tilted her head.
"But why does he hate going to see his own fiancée?"
Rumel, Tiyamal, and Aslan—the three who understood the reason well—reacted in turn: Rumel with an embarrassed expression, Tiyamal with a silent closing of his eyes, and Aslan with an awkward smile, all three carefully avoiding her gaze.
Fay, perhaps deeming such knowledge unbecoming of "elf-likeness," showed little reaction, but Ereta chimed in agreement with Angie as if puzzled herself.
"I wonder the same. Lord Richard... always seemed like someone who cherished his betrothed."
"Right? Even back there, he was so worried..."
Back there. She was likely referring to King Gerald's procession, the moment Maria had almost been beheaded.
Aslan's guess proved accurate. Angie soon added:
"That guy actually asked me for help. Begged me to clear a path the instant the fighting started so he could grab Maria and protect her. Seeing that, he definitely cares about her..."
So that had happened. Aslan's eyes glinted with interest, while Rumel fidgeted with her braid in embarrassment.
Tiyamal, for his part, muttered while stroking his bow:
"Well, she's his woman, so of course he treasures her. As for hating to be around her... probably a similar reason. Though this old man—a true man of the world—can't say he understands that particular sentiment."
A remark befitting a rake who once sniped at a sacred mountain peak just to win a dragon-kin woman's favor.
"A true man, you say... Perhaps Lady Maria is simply abusing Lord Richard? Such things did happen occasionally in the cult."
What followed was a glimpse into Ereta's past.
Perhaps because she had once served a god whose regenerative power ranked among the top three of all evil gods, the anecdote Ereta let slip was far removed from anything ordinary.
"Was that you doing the abusing?"
Angie aimed a playful glance at Ereta as she asked, but—
"Ah, does it show?"
—when Ereta answered with a bashful look, Angie's expression stiffened.
Above that straight face, her pupils quivered faintly, gleaming gold, and she managed to get out:
"Oh... uh, right, of course..."
"But I don't do that anymore. I've... learned that being on the receiving end is better."
Affection and battery could never exist on the same spectrum, yet that was exactly what Ereta craved.
A beating infused with Aslan's abundant love. Now that her regeneration had returned, she could surely endure it.
Ereta turned her gaze toward Aslan, brimming with that desire, but he merely looked away with an awkward expression.
To Ereta—who now feigned a sulky look—Angie spoke, her pupils still trembling.
"Let's talk about something else. Please."
"Okaaay."
Quite apart from her lingering regret, Ereta's answer came readily enough. Angie rolled her eyes and let out a sigh of relief.
Tiyamal seemed thoroughly uninterested in the current topic. Fay was equally indifferent; only Aslan and Rumel appeared to grasp what was really going on.
Rumel: easy to talk to, gentle, and supremely fun to tease. Angie flashed a grin.
"Rumel, you know something, don't you?"
"...Ah, uh... no."
Rumel flinched at suddenly being called out. The woman, who had very clearly been lost in some vivid daydream, bit her tongue and flushed scarlet to the roots of her hair.
The way she wrung her braid in her hands and averted her eyes made her awareness of the subject painfully obvious. Angie's grin widened.
"Looks like you definitely know something."
"I-I really don't... please don't do this..."
She tried to hide her burning face behind her braid and turned away, but Angie—taller than Rumel—closed the distance in long strides.
The closer Angie came, the farther Rumel retreated, until she was cornered against a wall, trembling and struggling desperately to conceal her crimson face.
Watching the two women, Aslan pieced together the situation.
Rumel, with her sexual knowledge, almost certainly understood exactly why Richard behaved that way.
And she had almost certainly been indulging in a related fantasy.
Having her name called and being pressured to explain in the middle of that would embarrass anyone.
At this rate, Rumel's face would either explode or she would lay out every detail of her fantasy and then try to choose death.
Aslan physically separated the two women before their respective pairs of soft flesh could press any closer together.
"Angie, that's enough. You're making Rumel uncomfortable."
Only then, getting a proper look at Rumel's face, did Angie let out an "Ah" of realization.
"Oh wow, you really are. Looks like she's about to pop."
She giggled and tugged at Rumel's cheeks.
Rumel, baffled by the sudden action, nonetheless managed a protest, the words squashed and mangled by her stretched cheeks.
Grinning, Angie released her grip and turned back to Aslan.
"So, Aslan, do you know why Richard acts like that?"
She had switched targets.
Perhaps she'd concluded she couldn't pry anything out of Rumel.
At the incoming question, Rumel looked at Aslan with a flustered expression, and even Tiyamal, who had been fiddling with his bow, fixed Aslan with a solemn stare.
Fay and Ereta were also watching him, and Aslan's expression turned troubled.
He had, admittedly, recently been realizing the necessity of sex education.
Ereta was a full-grown adult who knew absolutely nothing, and Angie had grown to adulthood so rapidly that she couldn't possibly know.
They seemed to have a vague guess, but certainly lacked the details.
And in present company, Aslan had no confidence he could deliver accurate sex education to two women who possessed little to no sexual knowledge.
So he chose the second-best option.
"Later... if I find someone who seems more knowledgeable about these things, I'll ask them to explain."
"...Huh?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" she muttered, planting a hand on her hip and cocking her head. Aslan's explanation poured out immediately, without a single stammer.
"It's awkward to just talk about it outright, it's open to misunderstanding, and acquiring incorrect knowledge could be dangerous. So I need an expert."
Tiyamal let out a snort of laughter. Aslan shot him a sidelong glare and sighed. Angie tilted her head the other way.
"I understand that it's hard to talk about right now. Then I won't put Aslan in a difficult spot."
Ereta smiled softly, a subtle curve to her lips. Unlike her, Angie still looked ready to keep probing, so Aslan addressed that directly.
"Anyway, that's not what's important right now. We'll... talk about this later. Alright?"
"Hmmm, fine. But you have to tell me later, okay?"
She adjusted the hand resting on her hip as she spoke. Her chest swayed lightly, and Aslan's expression grew even more troubled.
Still, it was a discomfort laced with relief that they had finally moved past the topic.
Aslan spoke again.
"At any rate, with this, the Kingdom of Bida has effectively become our ally. Maria was willing to provide support from the start, and with Richard alongside us, things should go smoothly. ...So what's left?"
What remained. At the sudden question, Angie, standing a few paces away, cocked her head at a sharp angle.
"Dunno. Kill some priests?"
Aslan shook his head. When Angie frowned and cupped her chin in confusion, Tiyamal gave a sharp answer.
"The Northern Empire?"
"Exactly. An alliance with the Northern Empire."
The Northern Empire.
The last remaining faction on the Northern Continent that was not yet part of the alliance—a small nation.
Aslan's next objective was that Northern Empire.
If there was a problem, it was this:
"The Northern Empire...?"
Rumel's expression had turned profoundly grim.
"Must we truly bring those wicked people into this?"
Seeing her face and hearing those words, Aslan understood the context behind her prejudice.
The Northern Empire, situated at the center of the vast continent organically linked around an immense Y-shaped sea, claimed the legacy of the old empire yet was far from prosperous.
The reason lay in the very place where the Veil of Compassion had severed the continent's waist: the Faraway World.
That colossal line, ceaselessly radiating cold and freezing all life and space-time, left the Northern Empire's territory cramped and barren.
In size, it was barely ten times the volcanic island where the City of Mages sat.
Its population was perhaps fifteen times larger, but with the left branch of the Y-shaped sea facing the Kallus Empire, it possessed no natural advantages beyond the ocean itself.
To survive, they had chosen to plunder.
Cross the ocean, raid the Kallus Empire, seize as much wealth and food as possible, and withdraw.
A pillaging born of necessity, of survival. But the blades and axes they swung were driven by malice all the same. Those who killed and endured in such fashion were the people of the Northern Empire.
Plunder for survival, yes—but to the citizens of the Kallus Empire, the perception of those Northern Empire raiders could hardly be anything but unambiguous. They were treated as little different from demons. Unless one was completely ignorant of the world like Angie, or a former cultist like Ereta, anyone from the Kallus Empire tended to suffer from that prejudice.
And Rumel, who was a noble on top of that, would inevitably be even more sensitive to such rumors and bias.
Understanding that facet of her, Aslan spoke.
"You'll remember the Northern Empire people you saw in Olpasbet. And as you'd know from seeing them, they're ordinary humans too. They just..."
"I, I was told... that their warriors who pile up merits and bathe in blood receive the blood of monsters and transform into monsters themselves."
Rumel cut him off before he could finish. Aslan's expression turned awkward.
For a woman who had personally fought numerous monsters and survived multiple encounters with the priests of evil gods, the rumors about the Northern Empire people had taken on a weight she could no longer dismiss as mere hearsay.
"That's not true. I've experienced it personally."
Even with Aslan's denial, Rumel still looked half-doubting.
So Aslan elaborated.
"Even if they really do turn into monsters, it won't be much of a problem. What we're going to fight are monsters beyond monsters. I need everyone's strength."
"...Even if they devour humans and take on monstrous forms, you mean?"
Rumel's eyes were full of worry. That, admittedly, was a problem.
He had said he wouldn't be picky about methods when it came to hunting evil gods, but he had never agreed to accept outright, undeniable evil.
That was a path Aslan wanted to avoid as well.
If he abandoned everything else for the sake of efficiency, nothing would remain after the victory.
So he explained.
"There might be people like that. But I don't think every single person in the Northern Empire is that way. I have no desire to condemn people wholesale for something when I don't even know if they're guilty of it. So at the very least, I should speak with them directly before deciding."
At those words, Rumel fiddled with her braid and pondered.
She seemed to agree with the premise that not every Northerner was such a monster or a predator upon humanity.
Yet the fact that some were such monsters still visibly troubled her.
Aslan watched her quietly for a moment, then spoke abruptly.
"While everyone was resting and processing the alliance paperwork, I asked Lady Maria to send a letter ahead to Olpasbet."
"Olpasbet? Why there?"
Angie asked in Rumel's stead. Aslan glanced obliquely over his shoulder as he answered.
"To ask them to send a Northerner here."
"A-a Northerner?"
This time it was Rumel who asked. When Aslan looked back at her, she was blinking in bewilderment.
Prejudice never vanished easily; he understood that. Aslan nodded frankly.
"While the others rest or prepare, I'd like you to accompany me to meet that Northerner, Rumel. I'll need to ask them about the sea route to the Northern Empire and the current situation there."
"D-does it absolutely have to be me?"
A reaction he couldn't tell was fear or prejudice toward Northerners. Looking at the woman, Aslan smiled gently.
A placating approach was necessary for the moment.
"Yes. I'm asking you, Rumel."
"Eep."
And the approach worked beautifully. As Rumel's face flushed a faint pink and her shoulders hunched inward, Aslan knew—even without her giving an answer—that she would accompany him.
That was exactly what he was aiming for.
He intended for Rumel to see the Northerners with her own eyes, to speak with them, to hear about their society, and to realize that they were people not so very different from anyone else.
Only the reply letter disrupted his plan.
The letter contained a single, brief sentence.
Every Northerner staying in Olpasbet had been massacred.
The cause: a sudden mutation during a brawl.
Dozens of them had simultaneously transformed into fur-clad monsters and torn each other apart.
In the process of suppressing them, twenty soldiers had been injured or killed.
Aslan crumpled the letter with a grim expression.
Along with the thought that perhaps the prejudice and rumors Rumel had heard were not mere misunderstandings after all.