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“The Godwins’ elite forces have made contact with the Abelks troops!”
And so battle had been joined. War cries shook the air down below. Beginning with Lamia’s private army, the Pruning Force (was there ever an armed band of grimmer repute?), the net began to close around Vincent. The front line was steadily approaching Abelks castle.
However…
“The first line of defense should have crumbled almost immediately. The fact that it hasn’t—I suppose it’s because that accursed swordsman is so skilled.” Prisca snapped her folding fan shut and gazed at the line of battle with her crimson eyes. At this distance, the troops looked no bigger than beans, but she could see him at work, the overwhelmingly powerful swordsman keeping Lamia’s forces at bay. A secret weapon that Vincent had deliberately revealed to her before the Rite of Imperial Selection had begun. She’d known he was even better than Arakiya, and yet… “It is still stunning to see him like this.”
He was literally a one-man army, holding fast against their entire force. It was difficult to believe.
Lamia had brought more than five times Vincent’s forces to bear on the siege of this castle—and yet that calculation was based on the assumption that one of her soldiers was worth the same as one of his. A single fighter who could hold off a thousand troops naturally upset that calculation.
“I feel antsy…”
“Does he bother you so much, Arakiya?”
Arakiya, who was waiting as Prisca had bidden her, watched the battle unfold as well, letting her lips curl in displeasure. “Yes. Yes, he does,” she replied. “Is it okay? If I go?”
“As much as I would like to indulge you, I can’t permit it. Stay here by my side. You might not get your chance at him on this battlefield, but…”
“But…?”
“…your strength will be needed in due time.”
That was all Prisca had to say for Arakiya’s expression to change. She blinked, and her look of annoyance became the mask of a warrior. Prisca nodded approvingly, then ordered a nearby soldier to prepare a detachment. The numbers of the clashing armies were within tolerances—just.
Prisca was preparing to sally with the detachment when she heard a voice. “Prisca. Where are you going?”
“ ”
She winced at the unexpected question. Nobody nearby noticed her reaction, nor did they respond to the voice—for they didn’t hear it. It spoke directly into Prisca’s mind. A one-way mode of communication, essentially telepathy. She knew only one person who could do that—someone who, like her, was here on this field as a participant in the Rite of Imperial Selection.
“Mind your manners, Paladio. Who said you could speak to me?”
“ I didn’t realize I needed special permission to talk to my own sister.”
Telepathy took a certain knack, but Prisca was able to respond immediately—something that seemed to surprise him, even if only slightly. The entire point was to be able to capitalize on the way telepathy set someone back on their heels.
“What a petty little ploy. Booby traps and parlor tricks—is that all the Demon Eye Clan is good for?”
There was a beat before Paladio said, “Lamia told you to stay in the back. I advise you to refrain from acting on your own.”
“A doll that does whatever you tell it. How cute. I’ll be happy to dress you, too, if you like. But as for me, I never had any intention of dancing to that vixen’s tune.”
“So…treachery? At a moment like this?”
“Ha! There, you finally made me laugh. I’m going to plug the hole in the line.”
Paladio’s concern was evident even through the telepathic connection. This mode of speaking utilized the voice of the heart, which made it difficult to conceal emotions—a clear drawback. And the more pitiful emotion the user felt, the more obvious their thoughts when using telepathy. Paladio was no exception. Meanwhile, Prisca’s contempt and mockery would be perfectly evident to him.
“I’m not going to waste time explaining myself to the ignorant at this moment,” she said. “Tell Lamia whatever you want.”
“You’re so profoundly crude that no one would believe I’m your older brother. I’ve always hated you, Prisca.”
“Well, then I’ve got good news for you. To pay you back for that little remark, I’ve decided to take off your head with my own hands.” She smiled sadistically and cut off the telepathic communication with a feeling of annoyance. Entering directly into the mind of another was Paladio’s own uncanny skill, but he seemed to have no comeback. Coward, Prisca silently grumbled.
He was of the Demon Eye Clan; he possessed a Demon Eye somewhere on his body that granted him unusual abilities. It was a very rare gift, but it was wasted on someone so timid.
“Princess…?”
“It’s nothing. Just a man who fancies himself my minder trying to put me in my place. Thinks he’s going to tell on me. Is everything ready?”
Arakiya nodded in confirmation. Prisca smiled, her crimson eyes narrowing, and opened her folding fan. The sound as it whipped through the air seemed inordinately loud, drawing the attention of the small detachment.
The main force was fighting on the front lines, but Prisca, standing importantly before her troops, led them in a completely different direction.
“We’re going to kill Vincent Abelks,” she said. “You lot need only follow me.”
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