5
“…I still could have saved him!”
They had left the audience chamber and were somewhere in the halls of the Crystal Palace. Ferris was whispering to himself, his face dark and downcast.
“Ferris…”
“If they hadn’t stopped me, I could have saved him… It just doesn’t make any sense.”
His slim shoulders were shaking, his voice thick with frustration. The depth of his shame was unmistakable, and Julius discovered he could find no words to offer. Ferris was speaking out of his pride as a healer, as one who supported life. Any attempt at comfort that Julius might’ve made would have seemed glib in the face of that. He was still searching for something to say when—
“I’m sure it must’ve been quite a surprise for visitors from abroad.”
He was taken aback by the interjection of their guide, who glanced over at them.
“ ” For a moment, Julius said nothing, content to mull over the words of the imperial soldier who’d spoken to them. He had encountered more than a few of this country’s troops since crossing the border, and none of them were like their guide. Maybe it came down to the warlike character that radiated from most of the empire’s soldiers, but curiously didn’t from the man in front of them.
This difference in disposition seemed to also be reflected in the man’s unique appearance. Volakian troops were usually covered from head to toe in iron and steel equipment, as if to boldly announce they were powerful soldiers. This man was conspicuous for his exposed and visible face. He was tall, with his gray-brown hair brushed back behind his head. His drooping eyes and gentle smile projected an inviting friendliness, but the way he carried himself made him seem every bit as dangerous as the tip of a spear, like something that demanded caution.
His equipment might have been different from the other imperial troops, but it was clear he was not someone to be trifled with any more than the other soldiers. In fact, it was apparent that he was permitted distinctive gear specifically because he was recognized as a cut above the rest.
Julius studied all this, then began his answer: “Yes, that’s true enough. I would be lying if I claimed otherwise. To elaborate on what my friend is feeling, I wouldn’t wish to think this is what passes for a greeting in the empire.”
“A greeting? Not exactly, but you’re not that far off either… Anyhow, I don’t blame you for being appalled. Maybe it was all a bit too exciting for foreigners.”
“It’s not an issue of how exciting it was…,” Ferris muttered into the middle of the conversation. Julius decided to let his remark pass, choosing to continue to talk with the soldier. The calm, almost lighthearted response had given him some insight into who this man was.
“I believe here in Volakia, you would be a general, would you not?” Julius said.
“Ah, you’re well-informed. Yes, a common foot soldier is promoted to a private first-class. Above that, you achieve the rank of general third-class, then general second-class, and finally, general first-class—that’s the custom. When you reach the rank of general, you finally get free of that suffocating armor.”
“I’m told those in the first class represent the finest the empire has to offer, and that there are nine of them in total—the so-called Nine Divine Generals.”
Citizens of the empire, be strong. That was the only and most important teaching in Volakia. It made bloodline and birthright of minimal importance, meaning everyone was judged on the basis of their individual strength. As a pure, unadulterated meritocracy, the Volakian Empire valued power above all else.
These Nine Divine Generals held a rank roughly equivalent to the captains of the knightly orders in Lugunica. And if Julius’s judgment was not mistaken, the man before them was one of them…
“Seems it’s not worth pretending, so I’ll confess—I am one of those nine. Balleroy Temeglyph, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“…So our minder comes straight from the Nine Generals. The empire sure knows how to be hospitable.” When Bordeaux heard that one of the most powerful fighters in Volakia was their personal guide, deep creases formed on his brow.
Balleroy, unperturbed, tapped his own forehead and replied, “Goodness gracious. Not much to be said if you put it that way. It only goes to show how much the emperor values our dear guests.”
Ferris, finally unable to endure any longer, cut in, “You people sure have a strange sense of what it means to value someone.” From the humiliation of the plague-ravaged Lugunica Royal Family to the needless suicide, everything that had happened in the audience chamber had seemed designed to needle at the demi-human’s nerves. It was no wonder he couldn’t accept this as some show of consideration on the empire’s part.
“Like I said earlier…” Balleroy, sensing the charge in the air, winked and cracked the bones of his neck. “It might be a little too exciting for visitors, but fer us, it’s just a day’s work. Seems to ’ve sat especially badly with your pretty friend there.”
“A day’s work? Are you insane?”
“Ferris.”
“Aw, don’t worry about it. Think that reaction’s plenty natural, it is.”
Julius tried to rein in Ferris’s overly direct response. Balleroy, once again, seemed unfazed. He pointed to the Volakian crest emblazoned on the back of his light armor. “The pierced wolf, his eyes say he ain’t dead. That’s how things go in Volakia. Might be down to your last breath, but ya don’t use it to beg for your life.”
“And you’re implying this attitude has something to do with the display in the throne room?”
“’Tis simple. That soldier who killed himself was never going to leave that room alive. He pulled a sword on Councilor Zergev, but you could see he was scared about it. That’s the moment he died.”
Julius and the others were struck dumb to hear Balleroy speak so nonchalantly of life and death. Seemingly oblivious to the envoys’ reaction, the general led the way with a sprightly step.
“The boy showed fear in front of all those people, and that meant we never were gonna be able to use him again. If he couldn’t’ve killed himself, the others wouldn’t have stood by and done nothing. Cowardice is a disease, and it only needs one weakling to spread. Then there’s the question of what would’ve happened to his family if he disobeyed an order from the emperor.”
“They wouldn’t seriously use his family as leverage, would they? That’s despicable…”
“Cowardice spreads like wildfire. The people of the empire don’t need soldiers afraid of their own shadows. Look, though, I see how ’tis. Just something we don’t see eye to eye on; won’t ask you to understand.”
“Then you’re in luck. Because I absolutely don’t,” Ferris replied firmly, his distaste for the empire hardening all the while.
“Splendid,” Balleroy replied, and he laughed merrily. “Whoops, here we are at your quarters, honored guests.” They had spent so long speaking that they had arrived at their rooms, and the general’s time as their guide was over.
The guest chambers at the Crystal Palace, like the rest of the building, seemed to be the final word in elegance. From the furnishing to the lamps, everything that populated the room was of the highest quality. Julius marveled at the quarters, which had apparently been designed by people who were unacquainted with the word simplicity.
“Fancy this,” said Balleroy, still standing in the doorway. “I finally meet the famous Sword Saint, and he hardly says a word.”
“…My apologies. I just wanted to minimize the chances of saying anything that could be considered rude.”
“Well, how’s that for modesty. But why so?”
“When I do anything, it often seems to put people needlessly on guard.” This was why Reinhard had been keeping his peace until Balleroy made this unexpected comment to him.
Balleroy widened his eyes slightly at Reinhard’s answer, but he was soon chuckling somewhere deep in his throat.
“Master Balleroy…?”
“Ah heavens, pardon me. Modesty, I called it, but I think I’ll be takin’ that back. Master Sword Saint understands his own strength, I see.”
“You give me too much credit. And that title, Sword Saint—it sits so heavily on me.”
“So you say, but ya ain’t denying you’re the strongest.” Balleroy snapped his fingers. “Right?”
The red-haired man smiled wanly but didn’t answer. His silence was affirmation enough.
Reinhard van Astrea was, without question, the most powerful being in the world. He fully acknowledged his own strength. But that was not the embodiment of Reinhard’s own ideals. He was not yet satisfied with himself. That was what motivated him to push beyond his grand title.
“Well, bless me… Doesn’t matter the country; the strongest always just go their own way.”
“Someone else you have in mind, Master Balleroy?”
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. Our number one’s the same way, that’s all.” He did seem to be considering something more, for a complicated emotion appeared in Balleroy’s eyes. Though, perhaps only Julius noticed the welter of feelings in his expression. Maybe because he himself was familiar with it. “’Fraid he’s away from the city on business right now, but maybe you’ll get a chance to talk to him sometime. Could be interesting. Might be surprised how well you understand each other.”
“I hope to have the chance one day.” The discussion between Balleroy and Reinhard drew to a close before Julius had a chance to give any voice to his misgivings.
Balleroy, his job done and his curiosity satisfied, said, “Right then, much as I hate to bore our esteemed visitors, I’ll have to ask you to wait here for the time being. When His Majesty makes up his mind, you’ll be summoned. Don’t know if it’ll be to the throne room or to a temporary residence, though.”
“I simply hope it isn’t to a stone prison or to the exposed earth.”
“Ha-ha-ha. I’ll make sure to let His Majesty know.”
Julius had spoken mostly in jest, and Balleroy received his comment with a laugh and departed. When he disappeared, the envoys from Lugunica were at last left to themselves. Julius felt the tension drain out of his shoulders just as it did from the air around him.
“So Master Miklotov. How do you think our negotiations went?” Bordeaux, free from the eyes of their minder, made himself comfortable on the sofa as he started the discussion. He gestured to a chair in front of him, and Miklotov sat. “I’ve never spoken to the emperor before, so I couldn’t tell. Can’t say he seemed very convinced. And he didn’t look like he was sold on the idea of a nonaggression pact.”
“Mmm. Nonetheless, you played your part well, Master Bordeaux. I’m rather more disappointed by my own maneuvering—or the failure thereof. I hope we haven’t unduly annoyed His Majesty, but…in that respect, our youths have acquitted themselves well.”
“Us, sir?” Julius raised an eyebrow in surprise as the knowing gaze of the head sage fell upon him. The very least Julius could say was that he didn’t feel he had contributed anything to the negotiations. That said, it was hard to judge; he, like Bordeaux, found Vincent’s reactions difficult to read.
One of them, however, interpreted Miklotov’s praise as apparent sarcasm. It was Ferris. His ears were pressed back against his head, and he nodded toward Miklotov with a dark expression. “I’m very sorry, sir. I let my passion cloud my sense of duty… I wasted our time in the throne room.”
Miklotov shook his head. “Nothing of the sort. No one would blame you for what you did. In fact, I myself was deeply heartened to hear you defend the royal family.”
Julius felt the same. Most surprising of all, Bordeaux crossed his arms and nodded soberly. “A man can’t be called loyal if he would let a slight to his king or his prince go unchallenged. You spoke for all of us. Got nothing to be ashamed of, kid.”
“In fact, Emperor Vincent might have been far more perturbed if we hadn’t argued with him. From that perspective, I don’t think there’s any cause to believe your actions have harmed our diplomatic position.”
“If… If you say so…” Surprised to find himself forgiven for his emotional outburst, Ferris seemed at a loss.
Then Miklotov turned to Julius and Reinhard. “Nor was there any problem with the way the two of you spoke and acted. The fine upbringing of our Sir Julius and the prowess of our Sir Reinhard seem to have impressed the emperor.”
“Huh. Huh! Sounds like we’re doing great then, negotiation-wise.”
“I’m afraid my withered eyes are no longer sharp enough to see the consequences of your actions, Master Bordeaux…” Miklotov looked dourly at his colleague, who appeared to have forgotten his own tense exchange with Vincent. The huge elder pretended not to notice as he looked around the room.
“Gotta say, I can’t seem to relax in here. We might not have one of the generals looking right at us anymore, but there’s so much mana hopping around here that it makes me feel sick.”
“Yes… The stones used to build the Crystal Palace include a number of magic crystals, exceptionally rare even among magic stones. They’ve been carved and sculpted by the world’s most capable technicians. The density of mana floating through this castle is exceptionally high. We must take care not to get inebriated.”
“I think meowby they’re doing it on purpose.”
Magic stones and magic crystals were both major mana receptacles. The castle had been carefully constructed from a wide variety of large and small magic stones, and an unimaginable amount of mana swirled within the structure. At such a density, it would be impossible to use magic in the normal manner; in fact, in some cases, the excessive mana supply could potentially cause a caster to explode.
“Meaning that one would have to be accustomed to this environment in order to use magic at anything resembling their normal power,” Julius mused. “That point alone shows just how thorough the Crystal Palace’s defenses are.”
“And that means a bunch of emissaries from another country are on completely uneven footing compared to the imperial troops, who are all used to this amount of mana … Why do you look so happy?”
“…Do I look happy?”
“Downright thrilled!”
Julius had been contemplating the construction of the Crystal Palace out of academic curiosity, which seemed to upset Ferris. The cat-boy looked away, disheartened, and Julius turned to Reinhard instead. “What do you think?” he asked.
“Me? I’m not sure… That spirit of inquiry is one of the things I like about you, Julius. And your analysis just now seemed thorough and thoughtful…”
“Not the point! Forget about Julius!” Ferris burst out.
“I was only kidding,” Reinhard said with a wink. To Julius himself, Forget about Julius seemed a rather heartless turn of phrase, but he accepted it as a sign of Ferris’s intimacy and said nothing more. Reinhard, meanwhile, gazed around the room with his blue eyes as if to take in the entire castle. “All the mana in here doesn’t bother me too much, honestly. I’ve never been much for magic, and the density of mana doesn’t do me any harm to speak of one way or the other.”
“Oh, that’s right. You seem like you can do anything, Reinhard, so I’m always really surprised to remeowmber you can’t use magic.”
“Anything, heh!” Reinhard forced a smile. “Sometimes, it feels like there’s nothing I can do.” Those last words sounded a touch harsh. They showed that Reinhard was in no way taking their situation lightly, and Julius found himself privately admiring the man for that.
“Plus,” Reinhard added, his fingers brushing the metal choker at his neck, “right now, my powers are suppressed anyway. I already couldn’t use magic before—now I feel truly useless.”
“Hmm, I guess I get it. Your whole self-worth is directly related to your strength, isn’t it?”
“Ferris, I think you’re going too far—”
“It was a joke, just a joke!”
Julius, finally feeling Ferris had crossed a line, leveled an intimidating gaze at him, but Ferris slapped his hands over his head. If nothing else, it suggested he had finally begun to let go of what had happened in the audience chamber. Relieved to see it, Julius decided to forgo a proper scolding. He looked at Reinhard, who was no more genuinely upset about Ferris’s jab than he was, but—
“Mm? Reinhard, what are you looking at?”
“Eh, just the town. You can get a sense of the capital from here.”
“I see; you’re taking the lay of the land.” Julius joined Reinhard in looking out the window.
The guest chambers were on a high floor of the Crystal Palace, and from their vantage point, they could see almost half the capital city. Unlike the capital of Lugunica, which spread out in a circle with the castle at its center, Lupghana was ensconced by walls, which formed a square around the city. And unlike the kingdom’s capital, where the rich and the poor were clearly separated, the appointments of the citizens of the empire seemed to vary little from one part of the city to another. Its development seemed quite distinct from Lugunica, where the nobility and downtrodden commoners lived in contrasting realms of light and shadow.
“Quite a different-looking place from our home,” Julius said.
“Yeah… The land and the weather have something to do with it, but mostly, I think it comes from the ethos that the emperor promotes. Sometimes, competition among people really can lead to prosperity,” Reinhard answered.
“Reinhard,” Julius interjected. “Do you think it’s right?”
“Some of it. But I can’t abide abandoning of the weak,” the Sword Saint responded firmly. It was his one and only response to the imperial way of life…
“I agree. I pray you’ll always remember that.”
…and it was that ideal that made Julius proud to call Reinhard, the Sword Saint, his friend.
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