The Whereabouts of the Princess from the Fallen Hanes Empire
"The whereabouts of the princess from the fallen Hanes Empire."
"…And why ask me?"
"You're the one who smuggled the princess out, aren't you, Alex?"
Yuma's two subordinates betrayed a flicker of surprise. Alex shrugged nonchalantly.
"…What are you talking about?"
"Playing dumb?"
"I know nothing about it."
All he had done was one thing. Fifty years ago, he'd turned a blind eye to a single dark elf fleeing. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Why would you do that?"
"If I had done such a thing, there would have been a good reason."
He'd simply wondered if there was any need to slaughter even a child. In his eyes, the Holy Church's massacre of children had seemed far more demonic.
Was it guilt from that moment? That was why, after leaving the Holy Church, he'd built this monastery and taken in orphans….
"I see. Do you recall anything at all? It's my mission to capture that subhuman."
"Why are you looking for the princess?"
"The Holy Church's influence has waned lately."
In other words, political reasons. Alex was about to reply, "I don't remember—"
His words caught in his throat. A dark elf?
Alex's eyes widened. He recalled the traveler man who had visited not long ago, and the girl with bronze skin, silver hair, and crimson eyes.
Long ago, a young dark elf wailing alone amid the ruins of the fallen palace. She bore an uncanny resemblance to that girl.
"…!"
But that young lady was human…!
…Was she?
Suddenly, it struck him as odd. She always wore a hood, indoors or out. And she'd even compounded herbs.
But that wasn't convincing enough. Still, the fragmented image from his hazy memory matched the recent girl's appearance all too closely.
If that dark elf had grown up, she would look just like the traveler girl.
…My… God!
Could it be?! She was alive all this time!
That explained the vague familiarity! He'd thought her surely dead!
Ha! Even this is a bond granted by the Azelan Constellation!
Alex smiled. Laughter bubbled up unbidden, tinged with joy.
"…I remember nothing. I'm just a humble monk living quietly in this rural backwater."
"……."
Yuma swept back his hair and spoke.
"You must tell the truth. Otherwise, we have no choice."
"Do you think I'm lying?"
"Do you know what my Divine Gift is?"
"Of course. Truth Sight, isn't it? The ability to discern truth from lies."
"Has that power ever been wrong?"
Alex shook his head.
"Of course not."
"…Tell me. Do you know the dark elf?"
"I told you, no."
"A lie."
"I figured as much."
"……."
Yuma glared at Alex.
"Do you truly intend to walk the path of a heretic?"
"…I serve only the Azelan Constellation."
Yuma strode toward the door.
"…You've changed."
"I've merely returned to my true self."
"With this… our bond ends."
Yuma turned to his subordinates.
"A heretic. Kill him. Then burn the nearby village and slaughter its people as well."
Yuma's men drew their swords and advanced on Alex.
***
Loki gazed toward the distant monastery, now out of sight. The sun had set, the moon risen; he had made camp. He untied the pouch Alex had given him.
It held green-glowing peppers. Tended with utmost care, their color was truly vibrant.
Loki bit into one.
"…Bitter."
It made him grimace. But… strangely delicious.
***
The civil war in the Ronia Kingdom.
Ash Ronia, the first prince and central figure in that conflict, stared blankly at the sky.
Amid the burning tents, the morning sun rose over a sky shrouded in dark clouds.
Crows swarmed the heavens, devouring corpses, while weapons jutted from the earth like tombstones.
What happened?
The question lingered only briefly before memories flooded back.
…Wiped out…?
Three thousand soldiers. Leading them toward Roden Territory, the final defensive line.
Everything had been fine until then. Supplies were tight but steady; he had conferred endlessly with his noble supporters, focused solely on halting the second prince with their army.
Then the wights attacked.
Just a few dozen.
That meager plague horde had annihilated his three thousand men, turning them wholesale into wights.
Ash stared vacantly, replaying the scene.
Where… did it all go wrong…?
As his trembling eyes fixed on the sky, a wight approached.
Ash didn't even think to flee. Both legs were gone, his belly torn open with a fist-sized hole.
-Grrrrowl!
The wight thrust its head close, gurgling phlegm.
"You want to eat me, you damned monster?"
His quivering lips barely formed words, but the creature wouldn't understand.
The wight—clad in blue armor marking it as one of his own soldiers—tilted its head at him. Then, grinning wickedly, it gaped its maw.
Black blood and Worm Pest spilled out, splattering Ash's body.
The Worm Pest spread eagerly, burrowing into new territory. Writhing vigorously, it pierced skin, sucked fresh blood, devoured organs.
As his body burned like fire, terror gripped Ash. Soon, he too would become one of those monsters.
He felt it—the corrupt energy spreading through him, devouring his life to seize his flesh.
A noble prince reduced to filthy undead…? Absurd!
"Damn it…!"
Then—
Thud…
A footstep, echoing unnaturally loud. The wight snapped its head up and snarled.
It charged toward some unseen target, jaws wide, black blood drooling—only to be shredded by dozens of flashes. Limbs tore apart and scattered.
The wight crumbled to ash and vanished.
Ash's eyes widened. Few could dismantle a wight in a single breath. And to reduce it to ash instantly?!
He strained to shift his gaze. Through fading senses, a hazy form emerged.
A figure dwarfing the corpse-pecking crows, casting a vast shadow.
A colossal man in a crow mask, far beyond any ordinary bird.
"…You're alive."
The words rang clear in his ears.
The Reaper…?
Come to claim his soul? Was this his end?
Ash mustered his last strength, clutching the crow-man's leg.
"Save… me."
He knew it was impossible. Even if this man were mortal, without holy water, no one could save a Worm Pest victim.
Still, Ash clutched at any straw.
"…Why? I don't need the hassle."
"Plea…se. Name your price… anything!"
"Can you find what I'm looking for?"
The crow-man shook him off pitilessly. Ash's feeble grip slipped away.
"…Should we kill the human?"
A girl's voice. A hooded girl, shrinking warily from the surrounding wights, clung to the crow-man's leg while glancing at Ash.
"Pity. I hoped… but no connection to the death angel."
Ash forced his mouth open.
"De… death… angel…?"
"……?"
"You're… looking for… her?"
"You know her?"
"Sa… save…"
Ash blacked out before finishing. His face paled, Worm Pest bursting forth to writhe.
The crow-man, Loki, frowned down at him.
***
Crickets chirped. Ash opened his eyes to a faint sky, staring vacantly.
The ink-black night sky glittered with countless stars; colorful moons illuminated the surroundings.
A cool breeze rustled grass across his skin.
His body felt warm, cozy. Amid the serenity, Ash smiled bitterly.
"So… I died after all?"
"Do you want to die?"
Startled by the low voice, Ash bolted upright, shedding his sleeping bag.
Now he understood the comfort, but no time for that.
The speaker wore a deep crow mask, black leather garb, and a feathered cloak enveloping his form.
Ash blurted, "…Reaper?"
The image fit perfectly.
The crow-man sneered at him.
"Reaper? Do I look that grim?"
"You're… not?"
"Who knows."
Neither yes nor no. The enigmatic reply flustered Ash.
"Heaven, hell—who cares? Reaper or not, does it matter? Or do you hope so?"
I'm not dead…?
The realization hit soon after. He was alive! Warmth coursed through him; sight, smell, hearing, taste, touch—all senses vivid.
Each breath of sweet air confirmed it.
Alive! And my body feels refreshed!
Energy surged, worlds apart from before. Ash suspected the figure had saved him—but stayed wary, unsure of the motive.
…Why save me? Even using precious holy water!
Infected with Worm Pest before death, his survival meant the crow-man had used holy water to cure him. For that rarity… there must be a reason.
"Who are you?"
His natural imperiousness made Loki—the crow-man—tilt his head, eyeing Ash with interest.
"Shouldn't you introduce yourself first? Straight to commands… quite the high station."
"Naturally. I am…!"
The first in line to the Ronia throne, Ash Ronia!
…The words stuck in his throat. He had to hide his identity.
Especially now: accused of senility in his king father, spreading plague—branded a heretic even by the Holy Church.
Ash swept a hand over his face.
"I am… a noble."