The Brand (1)
The Empress's study.
"Your Majesty."
"......"
How many years had it been since he had last seen Her Majesty sunk so deep in thought?
"Your Majesty."
"...I'm listening, Prime Minister."
At a glance, the reply was composed. But the Prime Minister, who had stood at her side through long years, knew it for the performance it was — a mask of calm. Her delicate brow was faintly drawn. She had been like this ever since the report on the girl had reached her.
"So. When do you intend to pay her a visit?"
"The affairs of state piled before me are a mountain. I shall postpone it for another day."
The same excuse. The third day of it, now.
"I can say with certainty that it would not take so very long."
"All the more reason it can wait, then."
"And yet, Your Majesty—"
"—Enough."
So she would not go today, either. But he could not let this continue.
"What, precisely, is it that you fear?"
"...What did you say? Fear?"
Her eyebrow twitched. He pressed on regardless, undeterred.
"You are the Empress of the Astaria Empire, sovereign over all living souls. And yet you have spent three days inventing excuses because you are afraid to meet a single frail girl. How could the world not laugh?"
"You are remarkably harsh on a sovereign already buried in affairs of state, Prime Minister."
"If you are so occupied, then do not hesitate for even a moment — leave it to this old man. I, Andarlef, as Prime Minister of the Empire, shall do what must be done."
"No. This is a matter I must handle myself."
"If I may be so bold — is that not the Latium Canal construction proposal in Your Majesty's hand? I truly cannot fathom why you would be reviewing a matter that need not be addressed until next year."
Andarlef parried every word with unhurried ease, conceding nothing.
"......"
A rather long silence. After a single sigh, the Empress spoke.
"I don't know."
"...Your Majesty?"
A lifeless gaze turned toward the window.
"Even if I meet her, what could I possibly do? Tell her that I personally had my father — the man who wiped her people from the continent without a trace — drawn and quartered in the marketplace, and so she should forget everything now and live happily? Should I grovel that pathetically?"
"Your Majesty."
Scattered grains of snow drifted past the glass. Now and then the winter wind keened like a banshee's wail.
"It is truly a farce. I had thought that by razing the old Imperial Palace, I might at last shake free of every sin this empire had committed. And yet the man I had torn limb from limb left behind, as if to mock me, a crime that can never be washed clean."
It was an expression he had not seen in a very long time — or perhaps one he had forgotten entirely. Sharp as the honed edge of an axe. Why, he wondered, did that look call to mind the Empress of years past, leading her knights onto the battlefield?
"His traces follow me wherever I go."
"These are not sins of Your Majesty's making."
"Heh. How fortunate it would be if that child thought the same."
"......"
She laughed, sharp as shattered ice.
"That is how it is, Prime Minister. Before that child, I am not the Empress of an empire. I am the architect of a living hell, one who deserves to die. Every word that leaves my mouth would be nothing but an insult to the druids as a whole — a paltry, pathetic excuse."
Three nights of broken sleep. The Empress had woken again and again in the dark, pacing the floor around her bed. A girl of another race, imprisoned for nearly ten years on a charge she never deserved. What kind of eyes would that girl turn upon her when they finally met?
"The atrocities the old Imperial House inflicted upon its own people — those I can repay, steadily, to the citizens who will live under my reign. But what of them? Even a lifetime of atonement would not settle the debt, and there is no one left even to receive an apology. They are all dead."
Worse still: what the Imperial Army had done was the annihilation of a people. A crime that could never be forgiven. The girl's parents, her family, her friends, her neighbors — violated before her eyes and slaughtered with unspeakable cruelty. A thing beyond imagination. And yet, ten years ago, it had been reality.
"And so how am I supposed to face that child? It would be better for us both if I simply never—"
"Remember the Eirene Oath, Your Majesty."
"...!"
The Eirene Oath. The vow that had opened the Empire's golden age. Before tens of thousands of her people, she had declared:
"Wherever darkness falls,
I shall be the light that drives it back."
"That child needs a light more brilliant than anything else in this world."
"...So that is how you play it. Cowardly of you, Prime Minister."
"I beg your pardon."
Another long sigh.
"I will go."
The Prime Minister's eyes went wide.
"However. As you well know, the people's regard for the druids has not yet changed. The world still sees them as little more than man-eating monsters. Even if the child truly wished it, I cannot send her out into that world."
"Your words are just."
"And beyond that, she will have to contend with the nobility, the Magic Tower, envoys from every nation... Harsh days lie ahead of her."
"Your Majesty's prestige, known across the continent, will serve as a sturdy shield. Do not trouble yourself overmuch."
"You will discreetly engage capable bards. We shall have to begin considering, even now, how to undo the false rumors surrounding the druids."
"It shall be done."
So she had already thought this far. He had worried she might find the child distasteful. It had been nothing but an old man's needless anxiety after all.
"Who is guarding the child at present?"
"Vice Knight Commander Rebecca Atraingel, Your Majesty."
"...Then there is no need to worry."
Her voice was faintly drained.
"Prime Minister. I am the Empire."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"I have already punished the Empire's sins with these hands."
"You have."
"The Empire is mighty, and it does not bow carelessly to anyone."
"That, too, is just."
"And so I will not ask that child for forgiveness."
"As Your Majesty wills."
"I shall play the part of a merciless sovereign, and nothing more."
"Do so, then."
He quietly affirmed the frail words she let slip.
"...I am a wretched woman, forcing a child who cannot even walk to run a path of thorns. Then the least I can do — the barest atonement — is to pave that path of thorns into a road she can run upon. Whether she walks it, runs it, or stops altogether... that choice belongs to her alone."
"Your grace is boundless."
The Prime Minister bowed his head deeply. The Empress's radiant prestige. Whether to stand beneath that light, or remain forever in shadow — that decision belonged to the child alone. He prayed, and prayed again, that this warmth of heart would reach her.
...This is bad.
Rebecca gently stroked the child's burning forehead, her expression tight with worry. Even a glance was enough to tell it was a severe fever. And yet she could not summon a healer, and a priest was even more out of the question. No — leaving this room at all was forbidden. Until orders came, the child's very existence was to remain a closely guarded secret.
"Hngh... hot... it's... too hot..."
And that fact was what made it so hard. The child's tears never seemed to dry. Prime Minister Andarlef had told her he had reported the matter to Her Majesty. Three days. Three full days had passed. And through every one of those three days, the girl had suffered, and suffered again.
Even if affairs of state are pressing, how can Her Majesty be this late?
She knew the thought was disloyal. But never had waiting felt so bitter. She had sent her swiftest knights to secretly procure medicines good for fever — only to hesitate, struck by the sudden fear that remedies meant for humans might prove poison to a girl of another race, and so she dared not administer them.
Damn it. Should I look into an underworld physician?
Frustrated, she had slipped into the Imperial Palace library whenever she could spare a moment, rifling through texts on the druids — only to find most of them stuffed with nonsense, painting the people as hideous monsters. In the end, all she had been able to do these past three days was feed the child warm water and carefully wipe away the cold sweat that kept beading on her skin.
And this scent, after all...
Rebecca lifted a handful of the child's silken, verdant hair to her nose. A clean pine scent. The gentle, comforting fragrance of a forest, the kind that soothed a weary body and mind. And that was not all.
The flow of my Aura has grown smoother.
Her Aura control had grown more precise. She had thought it her imagination, but she could clearly feel the Aura throughout her body flowing, fine as thread, through even her capillaries. In the end, simply by sleeping at the child's side, she had achieved a dramatic leap in her own ability.
This must never get out. If this unknown ability were to drag the child into some struggle over interests...
Just as the thought was unfolding—
A knock at the door.
"Vice Commander. It's Sonia."
"Enter."
The door opened, and a short-haired female knight stepped inside. Near her right shoulder sat a pauldron engraved with the lion's crest — the honored armor bestowed only upon the Empire's senior knights. She saluted Rebecca with crisp formality.
"I have arrived as ordered. Your command."
"One. Guard this door without fail. One. Admit no one into this room save Her Majesty Aria and His Excellency the Prime Minister. And one. Should anything happen to the child, channel Aura into this communication orb. I will come at once."
"As you command."
As Vice Knight Commander of the Imperial Knights, she had no choice but to leave the room to oversee training. Her feet were reluctant to move. She pressed a kiss to the forehead of the child, who still seemed trapped in some nightmare, and whispered softly.
"Sweet dreams."
