ACT 1
“Do not presume to touch me, lout!” Rífa glared down upon the drunken tavern patron who had just fallen to the floor on his backside.
She was a beautiful young girl with hair as pure white as the snow. Her body was draped in various places with ornamentation made from precious metals, indicating her high status.
Incidentally, “Rífa” was an affectionate nickname normally only permitted to a very few select people; her full name was Sigrdrífa. She was, in fact, the thirteenth divine emperor of the Holy Ásgarðr Empire.
Under normal circumstances, the sort of lowlifes who would frequent a run-down tavern like this would never be permitted the chance to lay eyes on one such as her, much less touch her.
Just the chance to speak directly to her and hear her voice was the height of good fortune, and yet this man had dared to grasp her by the shoulders and bring his lips close to hers.
It was an act so despicable that even death would not absolve the crime.
As far as Rífa was concerned, this man should be eternally grateful that he had only been thrown to the floor.
“Whaaat?!” The drunken man’s face had already been flushed, but now his anger turned it an even deeper red, and with a yell, he stood indignantly to his feet. He didn’t seem to have reflected on his actions at all.
“Honestly, this is even more horrible than the tales I’ve heard.” Rífa sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “No one here but you tawdry, vulgar lot.”
She couldn’t stand the foul air that permeated this place. Just breathing it seemed to cloud her mind. Frankly, even just being here made her feel unpleasant.
It would seem that perhaps she should indeed never have come here, just as her two attendants had said.
“Huuuh?! I don’t know who you think you are, but you’ve gotta lotta nerve talkin’ like that, bitch!” the man yelled with a snarling voice, and glared at her as if trying to intimidate her. Apparently he couldn’t stand Rífa’s air of confident composure.
As if the man’s voice were a signal, a bunch of other drunk patrons left the bar and came out to join them outside the entrance of the tavern. They began to surround Rífa. It would seem that the shouting man was their leader.
She was now surrounded by at least five drunken men. In this situation, a normal girl would unmistakably be terrified, but Rífa remained calm and unconcerned.
She was a special kind of Einherjar, of which it was said there were only two in all of Yggdrasil: She held two runes.
Against men of this low caliber, she was confident she could handle herself even if there were ten of them.
I suppose I shall start with the one who’s wailing and making a racket, she thought to herself. But before she could make her move, a young man’s voice rang out.
“Wait, wait! Everyone calm down!”
The voice was young enough that it felt out of place in this environment.
Rífa couldn’t see well due to the wall of drunkards blocking her line of sight, but this new man must have heard the commotion and come running.
The drunk men’s anger wasn’t the type to be soothed by the scolding of some boy.
“Huuuuh?! What the hell do you want?!” one of them yelled.
“If you’re tryin’ to get in our way, we’re gonna start with you!”
Just as she’d predicted, the interruption only added fuel to their fire.
That said, this young man was laudable enough for having tried to intercede in this sort of situation. Rífa did not want to get him involved, if possible. And she was supposed to be traveling incognito, to begin with.
I should just wrap this whole thing up as quickly as possible.
With that thought, Rífa took a deep breath and began to increase the flow of magical energy in her body...
“Be silent.” The shout of a young girl rang out like a peal of thunder. “Does no one recognize who stands before you now?! Behold, the august lord of our Wolf Clan, the eighth patriarch Yuuto Suoh!”
Rífa jerked with surprise, and the magical power she had been gathering dispersed instantly.
It wasn’t the loudness of the voice that had surprised her. Well, no, that had also startled her a bit, but a thing like that wouldn’t be enough to cause her to lose control over her magic; Rífa was not so lacking in skill.
What had broken her concentration was the name the girl had spoken.
Yuuto Suoh, Eighth Patriarch of the Wolf Clan. It was the name of the man whom the upper echelons of the Holy Ásgarðr Empire had determined to be the “Black One,” without a doubt.
Was he here now, in this very place?
“Huuuuh? Don’t be stupid!” a drunkard yelled.
“Yeah, you think our lord patriarch would be out here at some run-down tavern in the middle of the... gaah?!”
“Oh! Ohhh! It’s...!”
In a shift from their angry and skeptical protests, the drunkards’ voices now began to quiver with fear.
The young girl’s voice rang out again, as if she had been watching the men’s reactions to gauge the right timing.
“You stand before your lord and patriarch. All of you show insolence. Kneel! Kneel, and bow your heads!”
“Y-yes, ma’am!!”
The drunk men all cried out their response in near unison, and dropped to prostrate themselves on the ground. They did so with such force that they were practically slamming their foreheads to the ground.
Just that display was enough to see just how revered and feared by these men the Wolf Clan patriarch was.
Now that there was no more human wall blocking her view, Rífa unintentionally locked eyes with the young man.
From what she could see, there didn’t seem to be anything particularly special about him.
He was perhaps about a year or two above her in age. He was a bit tall, but on the thin side, and not very strong-looking. His face also didn’t have much intensity to it; in fact, it looked like the face of someone mild-mannered and kind.
This was the man who was supposedly going to destroy the empire, so she had imagined a more vicious sort of face. Frankly, it was a bit of a letdown.
If there was anything that stood out worth mentioning about him, perhaps it was his hair and eyes; they were so black that they blended in with the darkness of night, almost sinister-looking.
“Wha...?!” As for the Black One, he was staring at Rífa with a shocked expression. It was like he was looking at something he couldn’t bring himself to believe.
Still, that was something Rífa was long since used to.
Hmph, no doubt he is shocked by the color of these accursed eyes and hair. How quaint, when you are much the same, Black One. Rífa couldn’t suppress a self-derisive smirk as she thought this.
However, what next came out of the Black One’s mouth went completely against her expectations.
“Mitsuki...?” He whispered it as if in a daze, but the word was unfamiliar to Rífa’s ears.
She searched her memories, but couldn’t say she’d ever heard it before.
“...Mi-tsu-ki? What does that mean?” Rífa asked suspiciously, frowning.
The sound of her voice seemed to bring the Black One back to his senses, and he hurriedly responded, “Ah, err, sorry about that. You just, uh, really resemble someone I know, so...”
“Oh, someone who resembles me? It must be someone of quite high birth, then.”
“Ahh, no, she’s just a girl from out in the countryside.”
“You know, you are quite rude, considering we’ve only just met.”
“Huh? ...Oh! No, I didn’t mean to imply that you seemed like a country girl, or unsophisticated or anything like... huh?”
Suddenly, the Black One stopped, and his eyes locked onto Rífa’s garments, as if he’d only just now taken notice of them.
This, too, was a little rude of him, but she would let it pass. This was just how the people out in the rural provinces acted, and so a magnanimous lord would overlook such things.
“Hm-hm.” Rífa stretched her back tall and brushed her hair to the side, making sure to show off her attire.
The clothes she was wearing were mainly made with the rare “sieke” (silk) thread imported from the East, which carried a fine glossiness that left all other fabrics behind in inferiority. The metal fasteners and clasps, as well as the other metal accessories she wore, were all of pure gold, and the brooch at her chest was inlaid with violet amethyst.
This was the sort of refined and beautiful outfit that was currently all the rage among the wealthy upper-class in Glaðsheimr, the cultural center of Yggdrasil.
I suppose now you understand who is the real country dweller here? Rífa thought as she gauged the Black One’s reaction.
“You’re wearing such high-quality clothing. Just who are you?” He was wide-eyed, just as she’d hoped.
That reaction provided her with some satisfaction, and so she placed a hand at her chest and introduced herself.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, patriarch of the Wolf Clan. It is certainly a strange twist of fate that I should meet you here. I am Rífa, granddaughter of Sveigðir, head of the House of Jarl.”
There, I haven’t told a single lie, she added internally.
Of course, there was a lot of the truth that she hadn’t said, as well.
There was great risk in revealing herself as the þjóðann, the reigning divine empress of Ásgarðr. A patriarch ambitious for power might react by seizing her, so that they might imprison and manipulate her to their advantage. But on the other hand, Rífa’s speech and mannerisms were such that she could not hope to pass for a commoner.
It was the patriarch of the Sword Clan, Fagrahvél, who had given her an answer to this dilemma. He was particularly close to her because he was her “milk brother,” raised by the same nursemaid as a baby. His proposal was that she pass herself off as a distant relative of the royal family, no more and no less.
The Black One gasped. “Wha?! One of the Three Houses of the imperial family?!”
There were many families with blood ties to the royals, but House Jarl was one of three powerful families said to be the closest to the throne, known collectively as the Three Houses.
There was no ruler of lands in Yggdrasil who did not know of them.
The clan patriarchs who ruled their territories did so with the authority of the þjóðann and the empire as the pretext and mandate for their rule. Thus, using her current identity Rífa did not risk a patriarch seeking to upset things by using her in their schemes, nor would she need to deal with being treated as someone of low station.
“Indeed, that House Jarl,” she said grandly. “As proof, here, see this bracelet upon my arm.”
Rífa held up her right arm to show off the bracelet, also made of pure gold. Upon it was the symbol of a bird in flight and a sword, overlaid — the symbol of the Holy Ásgarðr Empire. The detail work was intricate, such that one could tell at a glance that this was no fake.
Seemingly coming to the conclusion that this was no joke or deception, the Black One held an arm across his chest and gave a respectful bow.
“P-please pardon my rudeness. A-allow me to once again introduce myself. I’m... er, I have been granted authority by Her Majesty the þjóðann to rule the Wolf Clan. My name’s, uh, I am known as Yuuto Suoh. I’m pleased to make your a-acquaintance.”
At least according to formal hierarchy, this attitude of deference toward her was perfectly appropriate. Rífa was, after all, a daughter of the family directly related to the throne he served under as vassal.
Of course, in reality, the central empire no longer had the power to control these lands, and hadn’t for a long time now. But still, the traditional authority of this hierarchy served as justification and backing for the patriarchs’ rule over their territories, and so they could little afford to ignore it completely.
“Well, in the end I am nothing more than a granddaughter with almost no claim whatsoever to the imperial succession,” she said, lying. “There is no need for you to be too formal with me.”
Rífa nodded with an air of generous composure, and exchanged this formal greeting in practiced fashion. Her smooth navigation of these social formalities was certainly evidence of her high upbringing.
“And so, Lady Rífa, m-might I ask what brings you to these remote lands?” the Black One asked.
“An excursion for pleasure. You do know how they say one should see the world and broaden one’s horizons while young.”
“I see. However, a lady traveling by herself is too... do you not think it too dangerous?”
Ever since Rífa’s introducing herself, the Black One’s — Yuuto’s — speech had gotten a bit clumsy.
Rather than sheer nerves, it was more like he was simply unused to using respectful speech towards others.
Rífa made sure to disregard this and pretend she didn’t notice.
“Oh, I did bring along proper protection,” she replied. “They are resting in our room at the inn right now.”
“Does that not perhaps suggest they aren’t the most qualified guards for you?” Yuuto looked pointedly at the still-prostrating men from the tavern, a troubled expression on his face.
True, allowing one’s charge to be exposed to danger while lounging in safety was hardly praiseworthy for a bodyguard. That said, the two girls traveling with her as protection were currently bound and unable to leave their room... and the one who had done that to them was none other than Rífa herself.
“Ha ha, please don’t blame them for it. I quietly snuck out on my own, without their knowledge.”
Rífa had to offer at least some defense for them, otherwise she would feel sorry for them and their reputation.
Yuuto’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s... how should I put it...”
“Hee hee! Oh, you can be blunt and say it’s a tomboyish thing to do. I don’t mind.”
“Ah... ahahaha.” Yuuto laughed dryly, and averted his eyes.
It seemed that was indeed what he’d been thinking.
“Well then, your guards must surely be worried about you. I shall escort you back to your inn.”
“O-oh, yes.” Rífa had been a picture of composure thus far, but for the first time, a twitch of anxiety passed over her face.
She had come to investigate this tavern because she’d been unable to suppress her curiosity, but she hadn’t given any thought at all to what would come after.
If she were to go back now, her two bodyguards would surely still be furious with her.
Of course, they wouldn’t be able to yell at Rífa or insult her to her face, but without a doubt, a parade of well-meant scolding and lectures was awaiting her. In the worst case scenario, she might possibly even be forcibly sent back to Valaskjálf Palace.
That, more than anything, was something she could not bear. This was her first, and last, chance to travel in the outside world. She couldn’t let that end here, like this.
Rífa began to regret, all too late, that she hadn’t been more deliberate and careful with her choice of actions.
“Father, if I may.” A small girl appeared next to Yuuto, seemingly from out of nowhere. “Lady Rífa is a noble lady of the imperial family. Knowing this and simply escorting her back to her inn would be seen as lacking manners, and bring shame on the Wolf Clan. I think perhaps it would be best to invite her to the palace and give her a proper reception there.”
The girl seemed to be only twelve or thirteen. She had an adorable appearance, but it was ruined by the cold light in her eyes, uncanny and unbefitting of a girl her age. Her eyes were the type that seemed to see right through people, and thanks to that, they gave the girl a much more cheeky and precocious impression.
Judging by her voice, she was the girl who had made the loud pronouncement earlier and silenced the drunkards. She had afterwards remained silent and hidden, likely judging that it would be improper for her to insert herself into a conversation between her patriarch and an imperial noble.
The girl was holding a small animal to her chest: an ash-grey puppy. Likely, she was holding it still to prevent any chance of letting the animal act in a way that offended a highborn lady.
“Hrrm. Huh, is that how these things go?” Yuuto scratched behind his ear in a manner that made him seem quite undependable. It seemed this man was completely ignorant of proper etiquette in these situations.
That was a quality particular to his sort, men who rose to power from nothing. The first impression she’d had of him was still intact. He just seemed too easygoing for someone in his position.
This was the man who had, in the blink of an eye, expanded his clan’s territory out from the Bifröst highlands and west into the heart of the Álfheimr region. She had imagined he’d be someone with more of the aura of a conqueror, with the resolute personality of a man used to making tough decisions. And yet, he wasn’t. He was a bit of a letdown.
“I shall have one of my people send word to the inn that Lady Rífa will be extended full hospitality at the palace, and as such, they need not worry for her,” the young girl said.
Yuuto nodded. “Okay, then I’ll leave that in your hands, Kris.”
“Yes, Father.” The young girl gave them both a respectful bow. As she did so, Rífa’s eyes met hers.
In that instant, the girl winked meaningfully at Rífa.
“Hm.” Rífa’s eyes narrowed.
I see... She sensed my reluctance to return to the inn, and that was why she interrupted to offer her suggestion. She might seem a bit impertinent, but this girl is quite good at paying attention to others.
Rífa found herself deciding to accept the kindness that had been offered her.
“Yes, that sounds good,” she said. “I shall put myself in your care.”
“Hmm, it’s more meager than I expected...” Rífa muttered to herself as she looked up at the Wolf Clan’s palace.
First, it wasn’t nearly spacious enough. She could see just about the entire breadth of the palace grounds looking in from in front of the main gate.
And the main palace building itself looked so small and shabby.
Even their Hliðskjálf, the sacred tower that was a symbol of major cities, was lacking in height. It was perhaps only about half as tall as the one in Glaðsheimr.
Rífa found herself worrying offhandedly whether the prayers of the people here could even reach the gods with a tower that short.
“Ha ha, please don’t compare us to Valaskjálf Palace,” Yuuto responded with a wry laugh and a shrug of his shoulders.
Apparently Rífa’s quiet remark to herself had reached his ears. She hadn’t meant for him to hear it, and got a little flustered.
“M-my apologies. I assure you, I don’t think it a bad palace. It isn’t bad, but just, for the Wolf Clan whose rapid progress and prosperity has become famous even back in Glaðsheimr, it stood out.”
“Mmm. Well, there have been many more pressing matters I’ve been occupied with up until now. But you are right. Now that we have so many more people there, it has become a bit cramped, so sooner or later, we should consider expanding the... huahhh... agh, so sorry about that.” Mid-sentence, Yuuto started to break out into a yawn, then quickly clamped down on it and apologized.
The more Rífa talked with this young man, the more he seemed to be exactly like her first impression of him: a calm and gentle person... or, to put it more critically, thoughtlessly carefree.
Certainly some excuse could be made for the fact that it was so late at night, but even so, she wondered how he could let himself be so unfocused in front of an imperial noble like this.
No, perhaps this is just the current state of things in the empire, she thought solemnly. Already, in terms of both actual territory under its control and actual soldiers under its command, the Wolf Clan had become more powerful than the imperial administration ruling from Ásgarðr.
Though the same might not apply to the þjóðann herself, perhaps he no longer felt the need to go out of his way to curry favor when dealing with a mere distant relative of the throne.
The several guardsmen manning the main gate to the citadel and palace grounds all greeted Yuuto in unison, and came to a crisp attention.
“Welcome back, Lord Patriarch!”
So he is the real thing, at least, Rífa reflected. She had to admit that at some point, she had started having suspicions about whether the young man might be some kind of impostor.
Of course, she was aware of the fact that people were often not what they appeared to be at first glance...
As the group passed through the gate, they were met by an incredibly beautiful woman with golden hair and blue eyes. “Welcome home, Big Brother. Did you enjoy your nighttime walk?”
Rífa had rarely seen a woman of this level of beauty, even among the halls of Valaskjálf Palace. Even Rífa found herself temporarily captivated.
“Hi, Felicia, I’m ba— um... are you maybe, uh, mad at me or something?” Yuuto had started to raise his hand to casually return the greeting when his expression suddenly tensed up.
Taking a harder look at the beautiful woman, it was true that while she wore a graceful, ladylike smile, there was a somewhat annoyed hint to the stare she pointed at Yuuto.
“Yes, a bit,” she said. “When you go out to town, not only are you not bringing me, your personal guard, you seem to be going exclusively with Kris as of late.”
“Well, that’s just because her ability is the most ideal for walking around town, that’s all.”
“Yes, I am aware of that,” the golden-haired beauty said with a bit of a sulk in her tone, and puffed up her cheeks in a way that was quite cute.
Rífa’s eyes widened. This incredibly beautiful woman... it seemed she wasn’t serving Yuuto for the sake of any wealth or power he might grant her, but due to the fact she’d fallen head over heels for him.
Even just observing from the sidelines like this, that was immediately clear, and what’s more, the woman seemed to be making no attempt to conceal it.
The golden-haired beauty, taking greater notice of Rífa at last, was looking at her with a troubled expression. “Um... aside from that, Big Brother, who is this person? How should I put this, her appearance is...”
Rífa reflexively assumed that the woman must be curious about the strange colors of her hair and eyes, but...
“Yeah, she does look just like Mitsuki, but she’s a different person,” Yuuto responded, his shoulders drooping.
Once again, she had been mistaken for this girl who supposedly looked just like her.
“This is Lady Rífa, who’s come from Ásgarðr,” Yuuto said. “She’s a lady of House Jarl, one of the Three Houses.”
“Jarl...!” The golden-haired woman gasped, then hurriedly grasped the hems of her skirt and gave a curtsy. “Th-though my rudeness was out of ignorance, please forgive me. I am Felicia, sworn younger sister of Patriarch Yuuto Suoh of the Wolf Clan, and I serve as the head of his sibling subordinates.”
“And I am Rífa, if you’ll pardon the repeated introduction. It is a pleasure. May we get on well.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The basic introductions being finished, Yuuto piped up as if he’d suddenly just remembered. “Ah, that’s right. Felicia, please have a room prepared for Lady Rífa.”
“Yes, Big Brother. Then, Lady Rífa, if you would come this way.”
“Mm.” Rífa nodded and began to follow Felicia, who gestured towards a path for them to follow.
Felicia began to lead the way with slow, graceful steps. Every one of her movements seemed to flow into the next, indicating her level of skill and practice. It was enough to make Rífa want her as her own personal lady-in-waiting.
Afterwards, perhaps due to the fatigue from all that had happened, once Rífa had been led into her guest room, she quickly fell fast asleep.
As she did so, her heart still trembled with thoughts of the exciting outside world.
After watching Yuuto, Felicia and Rífa enter the palace grounds, Kristina stood alone outside the main gate. She then raised both hands into the air, as if in a gesture of surrender.
“Thank you for your hard work as always, Big Sister Sigrún,” she said, turning to glance behind her towards the darkness at her back.
“What, so you knew I was here?”
From within that impenetrable darkness quietly emerged the figure of a lone young woman. She was wearing a fur mantle made from the pelt of a great wolf known as a garmr, and in the dark of night, it made her seem like she could be the vengeful mother of the wolf puppy cradled in Kristina’s arms, come to take back her child.
She was Sigrún, a fair and slender girl who nevertheless held the title of Mánagarmr, “Strongest Silver Wolf,” which was only handed down to the greatest warrior in the Wolf Clan.
“Well, yes. I am technically a specialist in this sort of thing.” Kristina wryly shrugged her shoulders in reply.
Though Kristina and her sister were both Einherjar, combat was not Kristina’s specialty. In order to cover for that deficiency when Yuuto took Kristina on his strolls around town, Sigrún had taken on the role of watching over them and guarding them from the shadows.
Incidentally, Kristina’s sister Albertina was more talented with a knife, but prone to distraction. She would get so wrapped up with other things during an outing that she’d completely forget to focus on her job, and so she’d already been judged a failure as a candidate for bodyguard.
“You could be more like Aunt Felicia, you know,” Kristina said. “If you are going to accompany us, it would be fine doing so openly.”
“I’m not able to make interesting conversation like you do,” Sigrún answered. “I don’t want to get in the way of Father enjoying himself.”
“I highly doubt that Father would think of you as a hindrance in any way, Big Sister Sigrún.”
“You’re right. Father is kind, after all. However, I am the one most aware of the fact that I’m a boring woman. Watching over him from the shadows is best suited to my talents.”
Sigrún stated this bluntly and without hesitation. She clearly wasn’t saying this out of humility or self-depreciation, either, which made it difficult to respond to. She was just matter-of-factly speaking what she believed to be the truth.
Sigrún had devoted herself to the role of becoming Yuuto’s “sword.” She was likely content to be able to protect him, regardless of how.
“But you do know that Father hasn’t realized this?” Kristina leveled this pointed query at Sigrún.
In other words, what Sigrún was doing would not see her rewarded in any way, not with merit and promotion nor with favor from her beloved sworn father.
Sigrún, however, responded to this cheerfully. “That’s just fine. If Father knew he were being watched, he surely wouldn’t be able to relax as he wished.”
Kristina, even with all of her keen insight that had earned her the nickname “Little Fox,” could not pick out any trace of dishonesty in Sigrún’s words. Her heart seemed to contain no selfish motives, only sympathy and consideration for her master.
Yuuto and Felicia occasionally made references to her that compared her to a dog, and now Kristina felt she understood why. This girl was truly a most loyal and faithful dog.
However, Kristina thought with a chuckle, I don’t dislike that about her at all.
“So then, what did you need with me?” Sigrún asked. “This is hardly the first time I’ve guarded the two of you. The fact that you called out to me after all this time means there’s something up, right?”
“It’s about Lady Rífa. What do you think of her?”
“She’s good. After getting a rough look at her, I can tell she’s at least as strong as Felicia, if not stronger.” Sigrún spoke nonchalantly, as if recounting what she’d had for breakfast, but her words were far from light in their implication.
Felicia wasn’t as strong a fighter as Sigrún, of course, but she was at least counted as being within the strongest five warriors of the clan. If someone was stronger than her, that was saying something.
“So I was right, then.” Kristina placed a hand to her mouth, and thought to herself quietly for a moment, frowning.
Rífa had been surrounded by five large, adult men, yet had not shown any signs of fear, only indignant anger.
And afterwards, during the walk up to the palace gates, Kristina had observed the girl’s movements carefully. She moved in a way that appeared to be full of openings for attack, but which actually allowed for none.
If Kristina were to attempt to strike with a knife or the like in an unguarded moment, her calculations only led her to one image in her mind: Kristina’s attack being easily evaded and countered, ending with her being forced to the ground.
“However, it also seems like she hasn’t fully cultivated her skill,” Sigrún continued. “She’s like a big hunk of raw ore right now.”
“Hm, I see.” Kristina nodded, those words striking a chord with her.
That explains it. I sensed that I wouldn’t be able to defeat her, but also got the impression that she was somehow vulnerable.
Because of those contradictory impressions, Kristina hadn’t been able to properly judge the girl’s level of strength. It would seem that asking for an expert’s opinion on the matter had been precisely the right call.
This girl was clearly not just some noble lady. And there were also a few other points that concerned Kristina.
“I suppose I’ll do some more digging, then.”
With that low remark, Kristina’s form melted quietly into the darkness.
“Huh?! There’s a girl who looks just like me?!” Mitsuki let out a startled cry at hearing the news.
Her even, shoulder-length hair was a bit disheveled in places. It was already past midnight, and she had just been roused from her sleep by a sudden call, so a bit of bedhead couldn’t be helped.
She was alone in her own room, so some of the front buttons of her dog-patterned pajamas were undone, exposing her soft cleavage in a way that was rather daring.
This girl, Mitsuki Shimoya, was a perfectly ordinary student, a third-year at Hachio City Municipal Middle School. Ordinary, that was, with one exception: Her childhood friend had been mysteriously transported to another world.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Yuuto said. “And, like, exactly like you. It seriously freaked me out.”
The excited voice of her childhood friend came to Mitsuki’s ears through the speaker of her smartphone. That excited tone showed just how much this other girl must really have resembled her.
“Right, well, it’s a shock for me too,” Mitsuki said. “Especially because you suddenly called me in the middle of the night like this.”
“Urk! Uh, s-sorry. I, uh, guess you were sleeping?”
“Of course I was,” Mitsuki replied sullenly. “Lack of sleep is beauty’s greatest enemy, after all.”
Normally, Yuuto would call her sometime between the hours of eight and ten in the evening, and they’d already finished their nightly call hours earlier. Despite that, he’d suddenly contacted her in the middle of the night, and it had nearly sent her into a panic with worry that something terrible had happened.
So after learning that the truth was only that he’d found a girl who looked just like her, she was in the mood to give him a little bit of grief.
“U-um, I really do feel bad for waking you up,” Yuuto apologized. “That’s all I needed to tell you, so I’ll let you go now.”
With clear guilt in his voice, Yuuto began to end the call, and Mitsuki hurriedly stopped him.
“Ah! W-wait!”
Setting aside the problem of the time and urgency of the call, it did concern her that there was some girl who looked exactly like her. Besides, she was already awake now, so having their conversation cut off suddenly would bother her just as much.
“Did she really resemble me that much?”
“Y-yeah, she did. Her hair color and eye color were different from yours, but other than that, you might as well be twins.”
“Huh, really? Then... I wonder if maybe that person might be one of my distant ancestors or something.”
“Ha ha, maybe so.”
“What’s this girl’s name?”
“She said it was Rífa.”
“Huh?!” Mitsuki suddenly felt like her heart skipped a beat.
“Hm? What is it?”
“Ah, no, nothing. I just got this feeling like I’ve heard that name somewhere before...”
“Did you maybe used to know someone with the same name, or something?”
“I don’t know any foreigners, Yuu-kun. I think I must have seen it on the internet, but... hmm... nope, I can’t remember.”
Mitsuki tried to search through her memories with her still-sleepy brain, but she couldn’t recall any person in particular with that name.
However, strangely enough, she was still certain that she’d heard the name somewhere before. That feeling bothered her, like an itch she couldn’t scratch.
“Oh, crap, already out of battery,” Yuuto said. “Hey, I really am sorry for waking you up tonight. Good night, Mitsuki. Sleep well.”
“Ah! Wait, Yuu-kun... Geez!” The call had ended before Mitsuki could respond, and she tossed her smartphone against her pillow, angrily puffing out her cheeks.
Yuuto had gotten to say his piece and hang up, and he was likely going to sleep properly tonight. But now Mitsuki was distressed enough that she didn’t think she could get right back to sleep.
It seemed like she was going to have to accept the fact that she’d be pretty sleep-deprived at school tomorrow.
I’m a third-year taking entrance exams, you know! All right then, tomorrow I’m really going to have to give him a piece of my mind.
Mitsuki resolved in her heart to do just that.
In the innermost section of Valaskjálf Palace, at the top of its sacred Hliðskjálf tower, the holy sanctuary from which the divine empress ruled all of Yggdrasil was now fallen into an unprecedented state of chaos.
The cause was the fact that the master of this sacred place, the divine empress herself, had vanished.
And the one who had led the þjóðann out of the palace and into hiding was none other than the man nursed at the same breast as her.
It was incredibly shocking, for this man was also the patriarch of the Sword Clan, one of the four great military clans that had always borne the role of protecting the þjóðann from the oldest days of the Holy Ásgarðr Empire.
Amidst the panic and confusion, there was one person who showed no signs of worry or agitation.
It was a one-eyed old man with an uncanny sense of composure, his cheek resting on one hand. “So then, do you have anything to say for yourself, Lord Fagrahvél? Any excuse for this?”
“None,” Fagrahvél replied stiffly, and shot a piercing glare back at the old man. “I will accept any blame or punishment given. I only wished to listen to and grant Her Majesty’s final request of me, come what may.”
Everything about Fagrahvél’s appearance fit the image of a gallant young warrior, the sort destined to protect a noble lady, from his shining armor and sword to his beautiful face.
The old man gave a short, contemptuous laugh through his nose before replying. “Such heartwarming words of loyalty, we’re all impressed, but what about Her Majesty’s safety?”
“I assigned her two protectors, both Einherjar, from among my own personal subordinates. I have full confidence in their strength, martial skills, and their character. Her Majesty herself is also a twin-rune Einherjar. There should be no chance of real danger to them.”
Fagrahvél’s statement was unambiguously confident.
Of course, that was because Fagrahvél could have never dreamed that the bodyguards he’d assigned had been magically paralyzed by the divine empress they were sworn to protect. If he’d known that, he would hardly have been able to stand in front of these men and claim such a thing with such certainty.
The other men present, all important figures in the imperial administration, wasted no time in leaping upon his statement with an almost triumphant anger.
“I would ask that you refrain from spouting such foolishness!”
“There ‘should be’ no chance of danger? Her Majesty should not be exposed to even the slightest risk to her safety!”
“Indeed! Just how do you intend to take responsibility for this situation?!”
Considering their position in all this, Fagrahvél understood that it was perhaps unavoidable that they’d act in this way. He did not flinch at their heated remarks.
“As I’ve said, I shall accept any blame or punishment. Jail me, kill me, do with me as you wish.”
“Hmph, you speak as if that would be enough! Do not presume that your life would begin to be a fitting price for endangering Her Majesty!”
“Yes, that’s right! What an insolent presumption from a mere clan patriarch!”
“If something were to befall Her Majesty, not even executing you a hundred times over would absolve you of that sin!”
Fagrahvél silently withstood the torrent of disparaging shouts that fell upon him. All of this was well within what he’d expected.
It was all worth it, anything was worth it, if it meant he’d managed to help grant the wish of the girl he’d pledged his life and sword to. If it meant he’d granted her the chance to fully enjoy her life’s final taste of freedom.
Suddenly, words of support came from an unexpected place.
“Now, now, let’s leave it at that for now.”
A single remark from the one-eyed old man was all it took to silence the other chief vassals.
Pausing for a moment after they’d quieted, the old man looked them over once, and then at Fagrahvél. “With two-skilled Einherjar from Fagrahvél’s ranks guarding Her Majesty, it is true that there is no chance of danger, barring something extraordinary. You said that she’d absolutely be returning in the spring?”
“Yes, she promised me so.”
“Keh heh heh, naïve as always. Where is there any evidence that such a promise will actually be kept? It is her first time in the outside world; by now, she must be enthralled by all of its stimulating wonders. Can you really guarantee that after that, she will come back?”
“Her Majesty fully understands the weight of her position in life.”
“Keh heh heh heh, now that is quite a strange thing for you to say.” The old man chuckled heartily, with a hand on his stomach, as if this was too funny for him to bear. “Just take a look around you right now. I cannot call it anything but absurd that you would stand here and say she understands the weight of her position. She really needs to learn a bit more prudence in her judgment.”
“I must say that your actions and remarks seem to lack proper respect for Her Majesty,” Fagrahvél said, glowering at the old man.
Indeed, it was always that way with him. The old man never seemed to conceal the fact that he did not revere the þjóðann as the person of highest authority, but instead saw her as little more than just a girl.
He didn’t even really act worried for her safety. It was as if he were thinking that if something befell her, they could just replace her with someone else.
His attitude showed the height of disrespect for the crown.
And that wasn’t all. Moments ago, the other high-ranking statesmen had all been furiously heaping abuse upon Fagrahvél, but as soon as the old man had spoken, they’d all gone silent. Right now they were all quietly looking down, averting their eyes.
It was proof of the fact that this old man had them, and the palace, completely under his thumb.
Fagrahvél glared at the one-eyed old man with contempt. And the old man — Hárbarth, patriarch of the Spear Clan and high priest of the Holy Ásgarðr Empire — merely shrugged his shoulders as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“I’m shocked that you would cast doubt upon my loyalty. Why, even now, I’m putting several plans in motion, doing what I can to preserve our great empire. Yes, for example... the eradication of the Black One whom, it is said, will one day destroy us.”
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