Dancing with Elves (2): Platinum Mirror Ipheria
"Greetings to the Elf King, the High Lord."
"No need to stand on such ceremony. You've received my daughter's blessing, after all."
"Your... daughter?"
"Erwin. You didn't know?"
"She was your daughter...?"
I'd thought she was a descendant.
"Her ears are elven... no, that's concealed with magic, isn't it...?"
"No. Erwin's ears are as they are."
"Then... is Chairwoman Erwin an elf whose ears just happen to look human?"
"No, she's not an elf. She's a half."
"......."
"A half-elf."
"Whoa."
This was a shock of historic proportions.
"Life can be born between humans and elves?"
"Yes. Even I didn't know."
"You didn't know...?"
"That's right."
"......."
How the he—'No. Don't think about it.' I'm in no position to judge.
"I know the history of Ipheria stretches back quite far, but were the chairmen before Erwin proxies appointed by the Platinum Mirror?"
"It's rare to see a child of Gibraltar so interested in imperial affairs."
The Platinum Mirror sipped her tea, her expression one of surprise.
"The child from your family shudders at the mere thought of looking toward the Empire."
"That child...?"
"The one called Cardian. You know him, don't you?"
"......."
Our ancestor's name popping up out of nowhere, referred to as "that child."
"If it's impertinent, I apologize, but may I ask your exact age?"
"Cheeky. Asking a lady her age."
"That's why I said it was impertinent."
"Tch. Polite enough, but that brazen way of speaking is no different from Cardian's."
The Platinum Mirror frowned and picked up a cookie from the plate in front of her.
"When Nostrum and Gibraltar forged their first pact, I was there. Does that answer your question?"
"Over 500 years old, then."
"Not particularly long for an elf's average lifespan. People sometimes compare it to human years, but let's set that aside."
Crack.
The Platinum Mirror snapped her cookie in half.
"Yes. Outwardly, she looks like a human in her early twenties, but inside dwells a monster over 500 years old."
The Platinum Mirror toyed with the inside of the cookie and smiled faintly.
How about you? she mouthed silently.
"......."
The sound would carry outside. Not just to Father, but perhaps to Lady Mente as well.
"I see."
Clink.
As I poured more tea for myself, I mouthed back: How much do you know?
Five years since my regression. My first contact with someone who seemed to "know" something.
Perhaps the Platinum Mirror held clues to my regression.
"How are the cookies? They're from the human world."
"Even if elves seal their forests with barriers, we don't completely cut off exchange with the human world."
I laid down smokescreen conversation.
We can't talk here.
Like this? They'd find it suspicious if we kept whispering or lip-reading intermittently.
"...Then there's no helping it."
I surrendered. This was consideration. And a threat: don't complicate things unnecessarily—obey quietly.
"For the Elf King herself to come and invite me personally, I have no grounds to refuse."
"A wise choice, child."
"But this has to be an unofficial visit, kept secret from everyone."
"Why?"
"Because Grey Gibraltar is currently portraying himself to the world as an incompetent, talentless fool handing the succession to his sibling."
"......Hmm."
The Platinum Mirror tilted her head.
"You're a Gibraltar, yet you speak like one of Nostrum's twisted little brats."
"......."
Yes, that's why I invited you here.
As expected. She knows.
"I originally just wanted to see your face, but this has gotten quite interesting."
"Interesting?"
"From here on, it might be better to speak to the Guardian of the age as well. Come in."
"......?!"
My head snapped around. Like an owl twisting its neck, nearly 180 degrees.
Flexibility? No. This was a racial difference.
Creeeak.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Father entered through the door. As expected, he'd heard everything from outside.
"And forgive my rudeness as a first-time visitor."
"Rudeness? Enter another's domain without warning, and you should expect a blade."
"A blade...?"
"Sharp one. Just a graze."
The Platinum Mirror lifted her robe slightly, revealing a sharp cut along the side of her green garment.
"Sharper than Cardian. The strongest Guardian in history... no, not quite Gibraltar level?"
"If it's an invitation you're offering, I consider it an honor, High Lord."
"You might grow strong enough for one, but... hmm."
The Platinum Mirror eyed Father regretfully, smacking her lips.
"If you'd become an unfeeling, cold blade, it might be different. But with mercy in your sword, you'll break someday."
"......I know."
"......."
It sounded like intimate talk between Masters.
What do I do? Should I pretend to understand? Or keep playing dumb?
"For whose sake was that choice, Guardian?"
"My wife, and..."
Father sat beside me, placing a firm hand on my shoulder.
"My son. My children."
"...A fine father."
For the first time, it felt like the Platinum Mirror smiled genuinely.
"Very well. Then to the Guardian of this age, allow me to explain why I'm interested in this boy."
The Platinum Mirror drew something from an inner pocket of her robe.
"You know what this is?"
"This is..."
"What you call Caroline and produce. We call it the Phantom Demon Ecstasy Realm."
The Platinum Mirror pinched some Caroline and sprinkled it over the decorative candle next to the cookies.
"Opening the gates to the dream realm, reaching the heights of the unconscious, manifesting the super-ego through... Sorry. I'll stick to human terms."
The Platinum Mirror tilted her head briefly.
"...Apologies, but I doubt the kingdom has a fitting word for it."
"Does the imperial tongue have one?"
"Lucid dream?"
"I get the gist."
In the future, it's called "Lucifer Dream," a devil's whisper dragging humanity to ruin, but at root, it's lucid dreaming.
"You know one of the ingredients used to make this?"
"Yes. Vampire remains."
"Indeed. I've watched you gather this vampire ash. And when you eliminated the vampires raiding the Sevillea manor, I was certain."
"......."
"You saw me. As expected."
"I thought it was a familiar, a bird. I sensed something watching, but how long have you been observing?"
"From the beginning?"
"......."
From the first expedition? Inevitable or not, a painful oversight. Ignorance is no excuse.
Good thing it was the Platinum Mirror. If it had been the crown prince's lackey...
Crying "I didn't know" after getting assassinated changes nothing.
"I, the Platinum Mirror, propose to Gibraltar's Guardian and his prospective successor."
The Platinum Mirror straightened, speaking gravely.
"Due to our laws, I cannot punish the traitors myself. So eliminate the defectors hiding in the human world for me."
"Defectors...?"
"Yes. Those who produce this powder... vampire ash."
The Platinum Mirror's eyes trembled faintly.
"Those who create vampires to obtain the ash."
At that moment, in the eastern imperial territory of Marquis Claydoll's estate.
"Your Highness. I have a report."
The witch-attired woman, Batori, swung her legs back and forth from the bench and asked.
"Now, or after we're done?"
"Do you think this is the time for reports?"
Crown Prince Hapsburg von Tersian, dressed simply in a white shirt and pants with only a greatsword in hand, rolled across the dirt floor.
Whoooosh!
A massive axe grazed where his head had been.
To onlookers, it might seem unseemly, tumbling in the dirt like that—but something soon flew toward his rolling path.
Thud!
A red arrow. The mana-forged projectile plunged into the ground.
"A report in this situation?!"
"Kuhaha! It's urgent—you have to hear it!"
Marquis Claydoll swung his axe wildly, chasing the prince.
"Hey! Witch! Report!"
"Are you really the crown prince?"
"They say you can handle three Masters while eating—surely you can spare time for a status update!"
"Tch...."
The prince leaped high from the ground, swinging his greatsword.
Claaaang!
He parried the aura-infused axe, deflected the incoming red arrow, and slammed down the greatsword he'd swung low beneath him.
Claaaang!
A paper-thin sword blocked the greatsword. The black-clad, masked figure deflected it and leaped back.
"Hoo...."
"Your Highness. Shall we pause for the report?"
A white-haired, muscular youth with an eyepatch over one eye lowered his bow calmly.
"No. We can continue. Batori, is it safe for them to hear?"
"No big issue. Just trivial kingdom gossip."
"Nostrum?"
"Yes. About Sevillea, beyond the pollution zone."
"Hold on."
Boom!
Mana surged into the prince's foot as he stepped forward; the three encircling him with weapons froze in place.
"Let's hear it. What happened?"
"Baron Plambel Sevillea is dead, and they didn't recover the silver dust."
"...Did you confirm any remnants?"
"No. The shadow sent to retrieve it went silent. There was a Viscount Hex there, apparently...."
The black-robed figure flinched at the mention of Viscount Hex.
"Lady Shahti. Compose yourself."
"...My apologies."
"Sorry to spoil the mood. Let's take a break."
"H-Hey, Your Highness. You gathered busy folks for sparring, and now you stop for this? Is it that important?"
"It requires some thought—hard to judge mid-spar. I hope you understand, Marquis Claydoll."
The prince stabbed his greatsword into the ground and cracked his neck side to side.
"Did you send a new shadow?"
"No, couldn't. Elves were hunting in the skies at the time."
"Elves?"
"Out vampire hunting."
"......Your Highness."
The white-haired man bowed his head.
"If needed, I'll go."
"Hmm...."
"It'll take time, but infiltrating via the pollution zone is feasible."
"Hmm."
Through his fallen hair, the man's ear was half-severed. The lobe had a gaping hole, large enough to hang something from.
"Sevillea—Plambel Sevillea, that old coot. He wasn't someone we supplied much to, was he?"
"Right. The worry is the shadow might've been caught by Viscount Hex."
"Worried about silver dust exposure now? Pointless."
The prince shook his head.
"Did you send Numbers?"
"No. An extra. A disposal number."
"Then no surprise if it's dead."
"One with missionary fluid."
"...That's a problem."
"That's why I'm reporting."
"In that case...."
The prince pulled his greatsword and slung it over his shoulder.
"Shahti. Marzael. I'll give you two orders."
"As you command."
"Your orders."
"Traverse the pollution zone and infiltrate Sevillea territory. Two things to investigate."
The prince paused, took a deep breath, and continued.
"One: Recover any remaining silver dust bought by Baron Plambel Sevillea. Two: Retrieve the missionary fluid spilled by the disposal extra. If you suspect the fluid was used...."
The prince drew his thumb across his throat.
"Eliminate all involved. That is all."
"Understood."
The masked figure, Shahti, nodded heavily.
"Yes. But, Your Highness."
"Not Highness yet—still Your Highness."
"Soon to be Emperor. One question."
The archer, Marzael, raised a hand.
"Can we do some 'mana replenishment' on the way?"
Their path lay through the mana beast pollution zone.
"They're already strong—even if they chew more mana stones there, what of it?"
"Kuhaha. Your Highness, the desire to grow stronger is universal, no?"
Marquis Claydoll grinned wide at the prince's wry question.
"Me too."
His canines gleamed particularly sharp.
"Whatever. With you two going, they won't botch recovery without a plan or die pointlessly."
The prince scratched his neck irritably and continued.
"The corpses will be eaten by pollution beasts anyway."
"As you command."
"...Oh. And on the way back—not an order, but grab some wild vampires if you spot any."
"As you command."
"I said not an order."
"Oh? Why the wild ones?"
"Well."
The prince toyed with his neat teeth and smiled faintly.
"The Empire's land is cramped enough, and lately, more fools insist on Nostrum's traditional burials—burying bodies and making mounds."
Ah. I see.
"Someone's deliberately creating vampires."
Vampires infect via vampire blood. Vampire ash comes from simply killing them.
"Turn healthy humans into vampires, expose them to sunlight to burn them to ash."
Like how Baron Plambel's ghoul-turned corpse dust became Caroline through purification and Somnus mixing.
No wonder.
How they produced so much silver dust.
No bodies? Make some and sell them. Hapsburg-style resource recycling.
Quintessentially human—uncaring what becomes of people after death.
And perhaps.
Inadvertently hit the truth.
In his influence, I uncovered this secret through Baron Plambel.
What a guy. Truly.
Even graverobbers don't touch the urns of those cremated.