Back in the Imperial Palace, Lowellmina lazily sprawled across the sofa in her office.
“Blaaargh.”
She acted like a tame pet, adorable but not at all dignified. Fyshe stared at her lady and sighed.
“Your Highness, please try to look a bit more presentable.”
“But I caaaan’t. I’m in burnout mooode,” Lowellmina whined like a spoiled child.
Fyshe would normally utter a few words of complaint and stand her ground, but her rebuke was half-hearted this time. The princess’s lethargy was understandable after everything that happened. Between her secret meeting with Prince Miroslav, meeting with Eastern Levetia, and preparing food for exports to quell the riots the Imperial princes incited across the Empire, there was hardly time to rest.
The rendezvous with Miroslav was especially taxing. Lowellmina took an unfamiliar sea route to Falcasso to avoid her brothers’ notice, but it still meant moving through enemy territory.
Moreover, since the visit was unofficial, there was a chance it could have ended up like this:
Thanks for coming. Prepare to die. Hah!
“Gweh.”
Lowellmina’s mental and physical breakdown was no surprise at all. Thankfully, the princess’s success made it all worthwhile.
“Your Highness, I understand how you feel. However, now is our best opportunity to act. We’ve received reports on this most recent battle, and it appears that both princes have suffered significant losses.”
Fyshe held out several documents that Lowellmina accepted listlessly. She scanned them with obvious irritation.
“Hmm… I already heard the basic details.”
Miroslav and his forces attacked Bardloche and Manfred just as Lowellmina had suggested. Caught off guard by this unexpected enemy, both sides sustained significant damage. As the mightiest armies on the continent, they were stubborn and struck back, but Miroslav’s forces quickly withdrew.
“Falcasso hurried home after hitting the Empire and earning prestige. Miroslav seems like a hot-headed fellow. I’m impressed he followed the plan to the letter.”
“It seems the prince’s citizens are praising his name to the heavens.”
“That’s no surprise. And apparently, my brothers have finally called off their useless staring contest and retreated. I’m sure both feel like they ought to be wearing mourning veils. Hmm…”
Lowellmina pondered something as she spoke. Not wishing to interrupt, Fyshe watched quietly. Finally, the princess shared her thought.
“Yes, this may indeed be an excellent opportunity.”
“What do you mean?”
“We will end this battle for inheritance within the year.”
Fyshe was thunderstruck. “Y-Your Highness, isn’t that much too soon?”
“No, considering my brothers’ current state, it’s well within the realm of possibility. Bardloche and Manfred will try to recover quickly and might gain the upper hand if we idle. We need to crush them first.”
Fyshe gulped. They were in the usual office, and Lowellmina was her typical self, but it felt like history was being made.
“Well then, Your Highness…”
Lowellmina smiled at her subordinate’s uneasy words.
“This will be a grand battle to determine whether I am the first Empress in Earthworld Empire history…or fade into obscurity.”
Footsteps echoed down the chilly stone corridor.
In the Empire’s main cathedral of Eastern Levetia, Yuan the missionary bowed to the few adherents he passed before arriving at a massive door in the innermost sanctum. A chapel lay beyond.
“Great Pontiff, I have returned.”
“Ah, Yuan,” a man replied. He was the head of Eastern Levetia.
“I heard the news. It seems our brethren have weathered an arduous trial.”
“Yes. However, we were able to overcome it safely.”
“I wish I could reward you with a well-deserved rest for your trouble…but I’m afraid I must ask more of you.”
“I am at your service,” Yuan replied with a reverent bow.
“You’ve heard about the recent agreement with Princess Lowellmina to restrict Falcasso’s Eastern Levetia population to a small region, correct?”
“Yes. Although it may help our members to escape persecution, it will be more difficult to reach the spiritually starved citizens.
“There is no cause for worry. Our presence is already well known in Falcasso. The destitute will instinctively flock to us.” The pontiff paused for a moment. “I am more interested in what we have gained from this change. That is, the opportunity to meet Prince Wein of Natra through Princess Lowellmina’s mediation.”
“I see…”
Wein Salema Arbalest, the benevolent ruler of the north.
There was a small community of Eastern Levetia faithful in Natra, but most kept their distance since Wein’s religious leanings were more Western. Furthermore, the nation never held much value.
However, all that had changed. It was well understood Wein took a pragmatic approach to religion, and Natra as a whole was evolving. Eastern Levetia could benefit from a relationship, which was why Yuan used Delunio to get a foot in the door.
“I would like you to go there and seek an audience. I had additional candidates in mind, but your connection to Princess Falanya is beneficial.”
“Please leave it to me. I shall not betray your trust.”
The pontiff gave a satisfied nod, then whispered grimly, “The tumult in the Empire is at its zenith, and the West is certain to respond. We must hold true if we seek the glory beyond the storm.”
“Fwaaah…”
Back in her mansion in the Delunio capital of Liddell, Falanya collapsed across a desk.
“You seem weary, Your Highness,” Ninym remarked with a smile. She came to Delunio as a secret messenger but was presently acting as her aide.
The tumultuous meeting had adjourned, but it wasn’t like everything was resolved. Actually, each answer seemed to lay the groundwork for another problem.
Between writing up a report for Wein, contacting King Gruyere, and speaking with King Lawrence about their next steps, Falanya was too busy to return home.
“Persistence despite exhaustion will only dull the mind. Why not take a short recess?”
Ninym could already hear Wein’s indignant protests. What?! You’re way nicer to her! But she banished him from her thoughts.
“I’d really love to, but I’m almost finished. Anyway, this is something only I can do. I won’t give up!”
Falanya patted her cheeks with fresh vigor while Ninym watched in admiration.
“I’d love to hear those same words from certain slackers.”
“‘Certain slackers’? Who?”
Ninym giggled. “Yes, who indeed?”
There was a knock on the door, and a man entered. It was Sirgis. His wounds had finally healed, and he was able to walk again.
“Might I have a word, Your Highness?”
Falanya nodded, and Sirgis’s eyes shifted to Ninym.
“Well then, I shall prepare for our return to Natra.” Ninym took the hint and gave the two some privacy, excusing herself with a bow. Once her footsteps faded, Sirgis spoke.
“I’ve just met with King Lawrence. Those close to Mullein will be dismissed alongside him. Delunio’s vassals will be returned to their stations.”
“That’s wonderful news. For both of us,” Falanya said before skipping to the more significant matter. “So, Sirgis, what will you do? King Lawrence asked you to stay here, right?”
Sirgis nodded and spoke as if his mind were elsewhere. “It’s as you’ve surmised. Delunio is my homeland. We’ve eluded danger, but this nation’s suffering remains. I sense I am still needed.”
“…”
“However, I made a promise to you. I vowed to serve you wholeheartedly once this crisis ended, Princess Falanya. Besides, although clumsy, King Lawrence demonstrated resolve at that meeting. I’m certain such spirit will uplift Delunio in my absence.”
Sirgis knelt and lowered his head with masterful grace.
“From this moment forward, whenever Your Highness is distraught, I shall bleed with you. Whenever you are joyous, I shall spill tears with you. It is an honor to pledge my devotion, and I vow to serve you until these bones return to the earth. If you believe I am qualified to be your shadow, please accept this oath.”
There was no question Sirgis meant every word. Overcome with nerves and emotion, Falanya took a single deep breath.
“…I accept.”
Both sensed the tangible bond this brief, succinct response created between them. It was invisible, and there was no written evidence, yet this promise was unbreakable as long as there was mutual respect.
“Now that I am your true vassal, there is something I must tell you, Princess Falanya.” With fire in his heart, Sirgis made what might be his final counsel.
“What is it?”
“I have been covertly plotting to install you on Natra’s throne, Princess Falanya.”
“…” Falanya’s expression was serene. She closed her eyes for a few moments, steadied her mind and breath, then spoke slowly. “I’ve heard rumors of such a scheme.”
“…”
“Is it revenge against Wein?”
“That was the initial reason, yes.”
She sighed at Sirgis’s confession, though from relief, not disappointment.
“Your actions were wrong, but I’m glad you told me.”
Falanya smiled. To her, this was a show of repentance and a first step toward their new life as master and servant.
“You’ve given that up now that I have your loyalty, correct?”
“No.”
Sirgis’s answer unnerved the girl.
“Princess Falanya. This recent incident has made it clearer than ever. You are fit to rule Natra.”
“Wha?!” Falanya exclaimed. “Sirgis, do you realize what you’re saying?!”
After swearing vassalage to her, his first words were a declaration of vengeance against Wein. Falanya could renounce him on the spot, and he would have no room to complain.
“Prince Wein has been at the forefront of Natra’s development. Without him, it would have been consumed by the East or West. The people laud his accomplishments; he rules with benevolence, justice, and love; and many are convinced they will prosper under his protection.”
“That’s right. What is there to complain about?”
“Surely you’ve noticed it, too, Princess Falanya. Were Prince Wein truly so kind, I would never have spoken a word against him.”
“…” Falanya trembled. She knew her gentle, reliable, flawless brother was more than he seemed. “B-but, even if Wein isn’t thinking about the good of the people—”
“Two,” Sirgis cut in. “One must have one of two requirements to succeed as a politician.”
“What are they?” Falanya asked.
“A love for one’s citizens or need of one’s country. If you love your people, you will take responsibility for them even if it doesn’t award you a kingdom. Conversely, if you desire to keep your nation, you will defend it, and therefore its populace, for as long as possible. Politicians must possess at least one of these conditions.
Falanya understood the implication. “Wait, Sirgis! That’s enough!”
“Prince Wein has neither.”
His words pierced through the girl like a knife.
If only this were mere vilification or misdirected anger. Then she could argue and fight back without hesitation.
However, that was impossible. Falanya ached to deny Sirgis with every fiber of her being, but somewhere deep down, she understood.
Wein did not love his citizens or need his country.
“That man is a dragon who sits upon the wasteland with outstretched wings. The people are content in his shadow because they believe the dragon loves them. This is a mistake. He only remains there on a whim.”
“……”
“I would not be surprised if he suddenly vanished from Natra tomorrow. Princess Falanya, I’m certain you realize the danger this would create. Natra’s politics rest on Prince Wein’s shoulders. How do you think the country would fare if he, if the dragon, flew away?”
Falanya envisioned a starved, suffering nation. It wasn’t impossible. Even if Wein didn’t run off, he might suddenly fall ill like their father. She’d considered this more than once before. The potential was a constant threat to Natra, although it had not come to pass yet.
“In…in that case, we just have to prepare everyone! We’ll teach them to survive on their own while Wein is still here!”
“That’s impossible.” Sirgis shook his head. “Most people are weak, Princess Falanya. They prefer to float downstream at a relaxed pace. The country will continue to rely on the dragon so long as he remains. Such was the case when Delunio invited Natra to the ceremony. The vassals initially tried to distance Prince Wein from government affairs after his authority suffered a setback, yet they called for him again at the first sign of trouble…”
“…So, you’re saying I should take Wein’s place? Someone like me who can’t hold a candle to him?”
“Your assessment is correct when measuring skill. However, your character and charm outshine Prince Wein’s. And most of all, Princess Falanya, you love Natra and every one of its citizens.”
“…”
“That is the leadership your country needs. If you handle all of Natra’s problems alone, the people will only learn to depend on you instead of your brother. Encourage them to resolve their frustrations, and they’ll remember how to think for themselves and walk on their own.”
Falanya’s heart was a mess, and her breathing was ragged. She wanted to call someone who’d shut up Sirgis.
However, Falanya couldn’t stop him. Sirgis’s every word reminded her of an invisible path she’d been trying to ignore.
“I’m not the only one aware of this danger. Regrettably, there is only so much we can do. Walking alone in a dark wasteland is terrifying for anyone. We will need someone who can act as our light when the time comes.” Sirgis’s following words were clear and carried the most profound reverence. “Please become our queen, Princess Falanya. For the sake of Natra’s future, we need you.”
“Lady Ninym, what shall I do about this luggage?”
“It seems that the food supply we ordered has not arrived yet.”
“What route shall we take for the return journey? The leaders and nobles of several towns have expressed a desire to greet Princess Falanya.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll be right there.”
Ninym expertly dealt with the volley of problems tossed at her.
Whether it’s Wein or Princess Falanya, my duties never change.
While she mused on this, another issue came flying her way.
“Lady Ninym, there’s something off about one of the carriages. We’re confirming whether the axle is cracked and if it can be repaired quickly.”
She headed to the storehouse on the mansion grounds where the carriage was located and spoke to the repairman.
“So, what do you think?”
“A temporary fix won’t hold all the way to Natra. You’re better off switching it out.”
“Just when we were about to leave…”
Was it better to wait for a rough repair or save time and purchase a new buggy? The price had to be considered.
Ninym returned to the mansion, unsure of the best decision. On the way, she spotted a procession of aristocratic carriages slowly making its way past the estate.
Maybe we can borrow one of theirs?
Ninym watched the group roll by. Meanwhile…
“Ah…”
Sitting inside her carriage, Caldmellia observed those beyond the window, muttering something with curiosity.
“What is it, Lady Caldmellia?”
“Oh, nothing. I merely realized that coincidences do occur now and then.” Caldmellia looked over the documents in her hand as she answered her subordinate Ibis’s inquiry.
“I see. Are you truly all right with retreating so easily…?”
“I don’t mind at all. I decided to spectate because it seemed entertaining. Delunio was never my primary intention. Besides, look what we have been given.” Caldmellia motioned to the papers.
“I heard you came to an agreement with Princess Tolcheila, but what might those reports be…?”
“They are footprints stowed away in the Soljest palace…footprints of the Flahm.”
“Footprints of the Flahm?” Ibis repeated with evident confusion.
The Flahm were an oppressed people in the West. Why did their records take priority over the fate of an entire nation?
“We cannot peer into the past directly,” Caldmellia began eloquently. “However, writings left for future generations immortalize the ideas and actions of their authors. Of course, each is only a small glimpse… But once you compile and compare them to the records of various nations, organizations, and ordinary citizens, those pieces form a larger picture. Eventually, you can see the outline of what was once lost. And…ah, it’s as I thought,” Caldmellia said with an eerie smile. “Yes, I see. So that was their group’s intention.”
“Lady Caldmellia…?”
Caldmellia faced her puzzled subordinate. “There is a living descendent of the Flahm’s founder out there.”
The Flahm’s founder.
Few understood the significance of those words, but any who did, especially those in the Levetia order, knew the incredible value.
“The Flahm’s Ralei clan is tasked with guarding this hidden knowledge.”
Caldmellia was unraveling a hidden history. Among the mysteries of the Flahm was a secret no one could ever know.
“Its members arrived in Natra one hundred years ago. And that living descendent is…” Caldmellia envisioned a young crown prince, then the girl who loyally served at his side. “…Ninym Ralei. She is the heart of all the Flahm on this continent…”
King Owen of Natra decided on a certain matter. It had to be done at some point, but it was also something that had been determined long ago. It had been waiting for the right time, and the moment was here at last.
A knock came at the door.
“I apologize for my long absence, Father.”
Owen’s son and Natra’s current de facto leader, Crown Prince Wein, entered.
“It’s been a while, Wein. How’ve you been?”
“Thankfully, I’m feeling fine. How about yourself, Father?”
“…Lend me your ear.” Wein obeyed and drew close. “Between you and me, I’ve been thinking I could use a wild night.”
Wein chuckled.
“Don’t you dare tell Falanya. She’ll probably tell the guards not to let one drop of alcohol into this room.”
“A son should always support his father, but at the same time, a big brother should support his little sister. It seems I’m in quite the fix, “ Wein said with a laugh. He pulled a chair to Owen’s bedside. “At any rate, I’m sorry I haven’t visited in so long.”
“Don’t worry. I was a politician for years. I know how easy it is to get wrapped up in national affairs when there are only so many hours in the day.
“Yes, I must agree. And yet my aide still pesters me each day to work harder.”
“How unfortunate. Others will never understand that a king is a lone warrior.”
Wein and Owen enjoyed a few more minutes of lighthearted conversation. The bond between father and son was clear as day.
“So, Father, what did you wish to speak with me about?”
At last, Wein broached the subject at hand. Owen had summoned him for a reason, after all.
“I’ve been mulling this over for a while, and I think it’s about time.”
“What do you mean?”
Owen paused for a moment before answering. “It’s time I pass the crown to you.”
Wein’s shoulders shook faintly. Owen gave him a sidelong glance and continued.
“I tell Falanya I’m fine, but life as a devoted king is exhausting work. I doubt I’ll recover enough to resume my duties.”
Owen gazed at his hands. He was never an incredible physical specimen, but he’d grown gaunt since falling ill. Age played a part, too. His strength and focus were deteriorating.
Even if Owen sat on the throne again, how much longer could he valiantly rule as king?
“You’ve more than proved yourself as regent, and I hear your skills have been recognized both domestically and abroad. No one will object to you being king, so I shall pass it to you.”
This day was bound to come since the moment of Crown Prince Wein’s birth. There was a sort of forlornness in Owen’s heart as he spoke, though.
“I can tell you have extraordinary resolve, Father.”
Relinquishing power and passing it to the next generation was a leader’s final duty, but some clung to it and refused to let go. Despite his long-term illness, Owen didn’t shirk his responsibilities.
“However, will you first hear my request?”
Owen raised an eyebrow. “Request?” His son never asked things of him. “Well, this is a surprise.”
Wein had demonstrated a ready wit at an early age. If he wanted something, he could get it himself without bothering others.
“Yes. It will probably be the first and last time.”
If Wein went this far, Owen, his king and father, had no choice but to listen.
“All right, what is it?”
Grimacing, Wein spoke these words:
“Father, I want you to tarnish your name for all of history.”
Multiple speculations swirled together in a race to the finish line. Future scholars came to call this era the “Great War of Kings.” A long, tumultuous year lay ahead, ready to enter the annals of history.
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