Echoes of the Past (8)
"Wha...? B-Bal... Balder... You're talking about Balder...?"
Brione's heart plummeted at the sudden question, her words stumbling out in a frantic stutter. Under the queen's gaze, she felt like she might faint on the spot. No way... Does Her Majesty know everything...? She'd been thorough in silencing the palace guards at Dogae Bridge last night...
Without thinking, Brione's eyes flicked toward Grancis. The overwhelming terror that she might end up in that woman's place wrapped around her like a vise.
Elua spoke to her in what passed for a gentle tone. "Your reaction tells me you're not going there after all. What a shame. I was going to send a gift for him if you did."
"A... a gift...?"
"I still owe him proper thanks for dealing with Lurtjog the other day, and it's been bothering me. Since you're an old comrade of his, I figured you might head that way."
Thank God... She doesn't know... Brione swallowed a sigh of relief and bowed her head even lower.
"I-I'm... s-sorry... Your Majesty..."
"I can't imagine what you're apologizing for."
Elua's eyes curved like crescent moons as she watched Brione tremble. "I thought you'd be the perfect fit for the role—my own advisor, after all. But no matter. Don't waste your precious vacation on this. We'll discuss it when you return."
Elua's smile was merciful, if still chillingly cold. "You're dismissed. Have a pleasant trip."
"Y-Yes... Understood..."
Elua watched Brione back away and exit, then slowly lifted her cup to her lips.
"Grancis."
Once the door clicked shut, Elua spoke softly. "Sometimes, you have to pretend not to know what you do."
Grancis stood like a statue, staring straight ahead.
"Brione is very important to me. So we'll let this slide."
Elua took a sip, holding the cup up to examine it closely. "Of course... Balder matters to me too. But his absence won't drag me from the throne to the executioner's block. Without Brione, though? It just might."
Brione, the mage who handled intelligence operations alongside the spymaster—shady politics, off-the-books dealings, all the dirty work. Without her groundwork, Elua couldn't have leveraged her legitimacy alone to suppress Gobert and Duke Alvis's factions and claim the crown.
Whether Elua craved the throne or wished to live quietly, they would have assassinated her anyway. She was always a potential rallying point for rebels. Better to strike first, then. And at the forefront stood the spymaster and Brione.
Elua promptly erased Brione from her mind and turned back to the report on her desk.
Stepping out into the corridor, Brione staggered and leaned against the wall. She couldn't hold for long and slid to the floor.
Her robes were soaked with sweat inside, and her chest heaved uncontrollably as the tension drained away.
"Are you all right, Mage?"
A staffer from the annex emerged and helped her up. Brione nodded weakly, clinging to his arm.
"I'm fine... Go back to work..."
Hand on the cold stone wall, Brione took deep breaths. The queen seemed blissfully unaware. If she ever learned the truth... Brione might well take Grancis's place.
But opportunities to be with Bertrand were rare. No—nonexistent. She couldn't pass this up.
And that gloomy black mage... that flabby milk boy... Brione had spied on them through a crack in the inn door, rutting away on the bed like animals.
How dare a filthy black mage... reeking in some dank basement, boiling human heads like it was nothing...
Brione shook her head fiercely, pushed off the wall, and strode down the hall.
Idwild and I waited for Brione outside the hotel. She soon appeared in simple travel clothes, bag slung over her shoulder, crossing the road toward us.
"Bertrand. Ready? Let's head out."
She ignored Idwild completely, speaking briskly.
"You got the vacation time?"
"Plenty. Don't worry. Bringing the Hell Horse, right?"
"Of course. Gear's all loaded."
"Good."
Brione summoned a Dimensional Gate on the spot. We led the Hell Horse inside.
True to its name, the gate was just a door—no winding tunnels of light. Step through, and you were there.
Emerging, a cold, damp chill hung heavy in the air.
"Whoa... Bertrand... Look at that..."
Idwild grabbed my shoulder, her voice dazed as she peered past me.
Towering ancient trees packed the space ahead, blotting out the view. Each trunk was millennia old, at least—maybe tens of thousands of years. Their bases were thick enough for dozens of adults to encircle hand-in-hand.
Thick, gnarled bark twisted in geometric patterns, intertwining, leaning, pressing down to form a second green horizon dozens of meters up. Leaves piled atop the dense canopy like a roof, blocking every ray of sunlight. The forest floor between them was pitch-black, like midnight.
I'd never been here, but I knew the place.
"Brione. This Semada Forest?"
"That's right."
Semada Forest: an ancient primordial woodland somewhere in the continent's south. No one knew when it began. Tree rings suggested it predated writing itself.
Legends called it where giants gathered firewood before winter, or where primordial beasts withered into trees. Somewhere in there lurked Mideronde's lab.
Idwild eyed the misty woods. "But... that mage is famous, right? Other mages must've searched for her lab... and never found it. Can we three really...?"
Valid point. But Brione hadn't dragged us here blindly. She was staring at the Holy Sword on my back while Idwild spoke.
The sword detects demons and monsters, traces black magic. It also senses unnatural mana flows. A mage's lab would pulse with it—devices, experiments, concentrations far beyond normal.
With the sword, we'd pinpoint it roughly. In short: invincible.
Anyone could be a hero with it, repeat my feats. If only anyone else could wield it.
Idwild's face lit up at my explanation. Brione smirked—Great minds...
I unhitched the Holy Sword and plunged it into the ground. White light erupted from the blade, spreading through the earth in all directions.
"Eek...!"
Idwild hopped away as the wave passed her feet.
It pierced the trees, fading into the distance. Faint beams shot skyward here and there.
Monster. Monster. Monster...
And way off... huh. One beam differed slightly.
"There. Not sure what, but no monster."
I described the rough location to Brione, referencing landmarks. Only I could see the beams.
"Let's go. It's a hike."
"No Dimensional Gate? Teleport?"
"Nope. In this density, you'd merge with a tree."
Hell Horse could gallop through with magic logic, but a stray branch at speed? Facial reconstruction.
"Got it. Walking it is."
We knew the spot. Time problem only. Sword, black mage, regular mage—we outmatched a legion.
We led the Hell Horse into the woods. It followed quietly sans reins.
Inside was midnight-dark, fog thick, visibility low. Brione conjured glowing orbs, floating around us.
"Bertrand... Hold my hand tight... Don't wanna lose you..."
Idwild took mine. Brione scowled uncomfortably.
"Milk cow. You stay behind us. Don't get lost like the idiot you used to be."
"S-Sorry..."
Idwild mumbled, shrinking. Her past with Brione was a sore spot.
Couldn't blame her. Brione had treated her like dirt back then. That's why, when Brione showed up at the inn picking on her again, I'd iced her out deliberately.
How long had we walked? Idwild and Brione spoke at once.
"What's that?"
"Huh...? Something ahead..."