"Nobility is a game, much like Shatranj, only that there are no winnners. There are only those who lose less than the others."
(by First-Class General Erzula Blaith, ~400 After Calamity)
Chapter 3: Imperial Blue-Bloods
"That's your third loss, Gaoran."
High Count Gaoran Peixit stroked his beard, thoroughly examining the Shatranj board on the table in front of him. There were a few moves he could pull off, and if he sacrificed a few pieces…
His opponent sighed. "Stalemate. Move that rukh and I'll take your shah next. Take my ferz, if you want, but it won't change the outcome."
Gaoran did just that, and the man sitting across from him defeated him in the very next move.
"Oh, well," the other man chuckled, "if it's any consolation, you brought down half my pieces. Were this a real battle, I would've been hurting for months from such a costly victory." He spread his hands and gave a sympathetic shrug.
Stretching his neck, Gaoran reached for the elegant bottle of wine on the table, but pulled his hand away as his companion gave a quiet "tsk" and grabbed it himself.
"Please, old friend, you're the one hosting me. At least let me serve you in this way, negligible as it may be."
With an amused exhale, the High Count pushed his empty glass toward the other man and spoke, "I would not expect you to serve others, Vigo. Have you had a change of heart lately?"
Vigo looked him in the eyes, widening that devious smirk he always had plastered on his aged face. There was no hostility in his eyes, or in his body language, or in his words, but Gaoran had known him since Vigo's spontaneous rise to power more than three decades ago, and he knew better than to let his guard down around the seemingly-harmless man.
They were of similar age, and of equal rank, but they could not be more different. There was a sense of unbridled ambition in Vigo's behavior, and that betrayed more than any hostility ever would.
Beneath that wise man's visage lay a wolf leashed to the Emperor.
"My, my, Gaoran, now don't you go calling me soft!" His hearty laugh was an attempt to defuse the tension. An excellent one, but not genuine. "Drink your wine, old man, so that we can finally broach the real reason for my visit. Oh, don't give me that look. Did you think I rode here for a game of Shatranj? I'd sooner play against Lady Dracroy, and she's worse than you!"
"'Tis odd you do not drink," the High Count remarked once his glass was full. "What excuse do you have for that now?" He took a sip and leaned back on his chair, keeping his gaze on his fellow nobleman.
Vigo brought his hand down to his waist and retrieved a canteen, which he then shook lightly. The sound of liquid swirling within was prevalent in the quiet room. "Why, I've not the stomach for such a refined drink. Only those with more polished tastes can enjoy such things. You know I would much prefer the taste of water, or a glass of the cheapest swill some seedy bar can offer."
The two men chuckled, and Gaoran drank from his glass before asking, "Are you going to enlighten me as to the purpose of your visit?"
"Right, yes," Vigo responded. "I'm so forgetful, you know. Erzula always says I'd forget to dress myself if she wasn't around, but that's just mean. How does she think I live when she's off in Lupugana, or Glarasia, while I'm stuck in the manor?" Leaning forward, he scratched the back of his head while frowning thoughtfully. "Sometimes, she can be as demanding as Drizen was, and proud enough to match."
"Vigo. Your reason for coming?"
"Oh? Ah, yes, yes, right." He clapped his hands joyously. "I want to ask a favor of you, Gaoran. A tiny favor. It will hurt you no more than a pinprick would, and in the end, would help you more than you could imagine." His smirk was beaming now, as if he truly believed what he said.
Gaoran wet his lips. Whenever Vigo wanted a favor, it meant trouble. "What does this favor entail?"
Still grinning, Vigo put his feet on the table and casually - in the same tone that he would ask about the weather - said, "Retract your support for Lamia Godwin."
"No," was Gaoran's immediate response.
"Come, now, Gaoran. Face the truth. Ride with the wind, not against it." He snapped his fingers. "There's a saying in Mezoreia, you know? I'm sure you've heard it. 'Courage is climbing a mountain…'"
The High Count shook his head. "'...and idiocy is thinking you can glide your way down.' Unfortunately, old friend, I am quite comfortable at the base of the mountain, while you teeter on the brink at its peak."
"You're the 'White-Cloud General', Gaoran. You should realize that the flow of battle's turning against you. No one will blame you for picking the losing side, so long as you come to your senses before their inevitable defeat."
"Do you think Vincent Abellux is so powerful that his victory is assured? He is alone now, while Lady Godwin has the support of Lord Manesque, Lady Benedict, and Barthroy Fitts's band of cowards."
Holding up three fingers, Vigo countered, "Manesque is the lowest of the low, Benedict is a little girl with enough soldiers to count on one hand, and Fitts's group would rather hide than fight." He whistled and continued, "Merry band you've got there, old friend. House Abellux will hang them from the gates of Lupugana, and you with them, if you disregard my offer. I've not the stomach to see your corpse every time I visit the Crystal Palace."
"And if that does not happen? Lady Godwin is most unkind to traitors."
"What reason does Godwin have to learn of this? The most effective knife is the one left unseen, no?"
There was silence as Gaoran looked into his guest's violet eyes, trying to guess what the other man was thinking.
Unfortunately, Vollachian nobles knew better than to reveal their secrets.
"I enjoyed your visit, Vigo," the High Count spoke with finality. "We will play Shatranj again next time you stop by."
For the first time that Gaoran had seen, Vigo's smile vanished.
Now, the other High Count frowned as he stood and bowed his head.
"Take my deal, Gaoran…or there won't be a next time."
"Gaoran Peixit, the Lord of the Cumulus."
"Lord of the…huh?"
Criff winced as he pressed the gauze to his forehead. The white fabric had turned red. Unsurprising, given how he had basically split his forehead open. It barely hurt now, thanks to that "potion" the House Abellux medics had given him, but he could hardly visit the High Count with his face covered in blood and his uniform in tatters.
"Are you even listening to me?" he asked Subaru, who - in turn - looked at the floor. Criff bit his lip. Turning this kid into a distraction was going to be more trouble than it first seemed. "High Count Peixit is a renowned general, but he's past war now. He says politics make for a far deadlier battlefield than any other. Pfah! I'd like to see him here…" He pulled the gauze away from his head, inspected it, and threw it on the floor. It was completely red.
As he went to grab another roll of gauze, only to find there was none remaining, Subaru chimed in. "Um…and mister Peixit can help?"
Criff clutched his head. "I would hope so. He pledged his support to House Godwin, and he's unlikely to change his heart so suddenly." Given the Count had probably not even received the news yet, it was as safe a bet as any he could make at the moment. "He rules over the quaint town of Faradar, and his reach extends to the Great Cascade. We'll need to watch out, though; last I heard of him, there was trouble on his borders."
Subaru looked at him with a confused expression. Of course, Imperial politics were too difficult for a child like him to understand. That made his job so much harder. No one could truly comprehend the intricate games the High Nobles played - not even them, in some cases - but everyone knew that getting caught in those intricate schemes was an easy way to wind up as nothing more than a viciously mauled corpse in some dark alleyway.
The Montier family was perfectly content with staying on the sidelines, observing, and reaping what rewards it could find. Only one man of their blood had been plagued by delusions of grandeur, but he was long dead now, and his reward for such an idiotic endeavor was being forgotten by the world, with his identity purged from the Imperial records.
Still, Criff had to admit that the prospect of being a great General had crossed his mind more than once, and his comrades in Godwin's army had stoked the flames of passion with their promises of a greater Vollachia bound under their Lady's rule. It was difficult to remain stoic when everyone around him cheered at the prospect of Lugnica going up in flames, with the Imperial flag hoisted to fly over its capital's skies.
That passion was long gone now. It took him to that massacre and ripped everything from him, and he was surprised, despite having been warned that this would happen. If his family ever learned of this…
Forcing a smile, Criff shook his head. They would never learn, at least not from him. And he would never again be led astray by his zeal.
No, he would never be led astray again. From this day forth, he would prove his worth, not as an impassioned soul fanning the blaze of revenge, but as a silent turncoat. A wolf in sheep's clothing could do more harm than an entire pack.
Unknowingly, he clenched his fists, ignoring the concerned and fearful look Subaru gave him when the boy noticed.
But he was not so lost in thought as to ignore the boy. This child was, after all, his greatest tool, his only tool, and Criff would see to it that he was put to good use. So, with a kind smile, he shook his head and resumed his rambling about the High Count Peixit. How tragic, that the boy was doomed and he was not.
Still…if the boy died…
Well, there were always more tools out there, ripe for the taking.
"Curse that brainless fool."
Looking out of his carriage's window to the gently rolling landscape, the High Count Vigo Qisuni muttered those words with venom in his tone.
Still, it was not the landscape he was looking at, but his own reflection. Indeed, he had done his best to appear presentable, and he felt entitled to at least enjoy the fruits of his effort, as negligible as that effort was.
Vigo was, by no means, an intimidating man. His body had - despite his best efforts - withered with age, and as he entered his sixties, he felt the passing of time more acutely than he had before. It was true he exaggerated his weakness, but in the Empire, no one ever took off their masks, and he was no exception.
No one who lay eyes on the High Count would believe him to be any threat. Instead, they would see a graceful and humble elder, who was all-too-happy to busy himself with the bureaucratic dealings of his territory and its subjects. His thin body and colorless hair added to that impression, and he always ensured that his violet eyes hid his schemes.
His face, with its sunken cheeks and taut skin, was the only unsettling aspect of his appearance. It resembled a skull too closely for his liking, which was why he grew out his hair and tied it in a bun. Skulls may be bald, but Vigo Qisuni was not.
A soft voice interrupted his silent musing. "Lord Count Peixit is a great man, Handler, though I fear his age is beginning to show."
The man sitting across from Vigo seemed to be his reflection, a more youthful version of him. It would be wrong to call him a youngster, as he was in his forties, but that was what Vigo referred to him as, given he had never been given the younger man's real name. All the High Count had was his alias: "Omen."
Omen held a caring smile on his face at all times - very good, smiles were the best masks after all - which, combined with his well-groomed, clean appearance, and noticeable muscle, gave him a sort of fatherly look. That was all too well, given Omen was a Third-Class General. Vigo believed that those in power should always treat their underlings like their own children. It was a good mindset to cultivate.
However, Omen's tender looks served another purpose. They were his mask, concealing from the world his true role as an agent of the Imperial Hand, the group of fanatical cut-throats who jumped and croaked when the Emperor said "frog."
Vigo winced slightly. That was unfair to young Omen, given Vigo was not just his superior as a High Count, but also as a commander of the Hand. Yes, perhaps "cut-throats" was too harsh a word. Vigo himself preferred the term "enforcer." He certainly had enforced no small number of Emperor Drizen's commands, from the ordinary to the downright macabre.
"A great man indeed, Omen," he nodded. "Among the greatest. Perhaps, not greater than myself, but that's still up for debate. How regrettable that age makes fools of us all. Unfortunate indeed. Gaoran has clearly lost the core of what makes us living beings: he has no will to live, clearly."
Omen raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "I was not aware the Lord Count had given up on life. Has anything driven him to such a point?"
"Yes, my friend. Age."
"I thank the Emperor, then, that my hair is yet to lose its color. I could hardly stand to live, were my hair white as a cloud and my eyes dull as mud."
"A good sentiment, that. Endeavor to die soon, so your corpse will remain youthful in its casket. Ah, but don't get maimed too much. We want to see you, not a tangled mess of organs."
With a chuckle, Omen nodded slowly. "I expect you at my funeral, Handler, and if you're not there, I'll return and force you to attend."
Vigo laughed as he replied, "It flatters me that you think I'll outlive you."
"Why, 'course you will, Handler. None doubt your skill." Omen covered his smile with his hand as he added, "Only two ways for you to die: old age or displeasing the Emperor."
"A comfortable bed or the sweet gallows…what a choice. Promise you'll speak to the Emperor if it's the latter: I'd like a chance at Ginunhive over being executed like that."
"All this talk about death is souring the mood, don't you think?"
"When you're a High Count, it's always death and politics in every conversation." He raised two fingers. "That is the Empire's second maxim. Remember it, for when you think about becoming a lord yourself."
The younger man sighed wearily. "I will never be brave enough for politics, Handler."
Vigo crossed his legs and shrugged before reaching into his coat's breast pocket and retrieving a small black trinket made of wood. It had a rectangular shape, with its top caved in diagonally.
Holding it out to his companion, the High Count asked, "You brave enough for Shatranj?"
Being one of the Emperor's sons was exhausting.
It entailed a chance to, one day, rule over the Empire, but that chance came in a package that also included more assassination attempts than one person should ever experience, a treacherous family filled to the brim with conceited buffoons, and a small-scale civil war.
It also included a very neat fire sword, but that was of little consolation to him.
In this case, he was truly outmatched. The only victory he had snatched from the jaws of this horrendous defeat was that his personal army remained mostly intact, having suffered fewer losses than any other group in the Tropics.
And…that was it. There was no other good news today, given that Lamia's whole plan fell apart like a pile of ashes - which, might he add, was what the great "Poison Princess" had become. Still, though he had never truly liked that foul woman, he at least tolerated her more than that damnable Prisca, what with her too-good-for-you attitude and sharp tongue. At least Lamia pretended to be nice once in a while.
He always hated Prisca.
And today, if everything had gone according to plan, Prisca would have been nothing more than a very-noticeable crater on the ground, along with that filthy schemer Vincent and their attendants. As fate would have it, now he was the one in danger of becoming little more than embers on the wind as Prisca and her Redmongers cheered for their victory.
With a loud exhale, he looked around the convoy, his convoy. Every soldier here would gladly throw their lives on the line to see him seated upon the throne, and he loved them for that, as much as he wished that he had any masterminds like Berstetz Fondalfon or great warriors like that Spirit-Eater at his command. Their loyalty was all he asked, and they more than provided it.
As he sat alone within his carriage and looked out the windows at the surrounding army that stood as his shield, he grasped an eye-shaped amulet that hung from his neck. It was smaller than his hand, so he handled it carefully as he opened it. Inside was a thin lock of fiery orange hair, and he scowled as he put his thumb over it.
I wish you had died, Prisca.
He took a breath to steady himself, and with great displeasure, he pressed his thumb to the lock of hair.
"You really are no more than filth."
His voice was silent, for he never spoke: his mind did. This "conversation," if it could even be called that, was a long-range interaction via telepathy, courtesy of his power as an Evil Eye.
"You can hear me, Prisca," he spat without opening his mouth. "What do you even gain from this? You know he will never let you live."
No response.
"You really are self-absorbed, Prisca. Too stupid to see beyond your cursed childish whims. If only your mother had never given birth to you."
No response. He was growing tired of speaking to himself, even if he was not really talking. His vitriolic rant would have left him flushed with rage if he had been speaking to the subject of his hatred in person. Still, he knew better than to try such a thing where that Empress wannabe could easily kill him for it, and he had no intentions of getting close to her when she had already promised to lop off his head personally.
"What did he even promise you for this? Are you that stupid to think Vincent will just…what? Pat your head, have some tea with you, and let you go? He never will. Damn you! You sentenced us to death out of petty spite!"
"How aggravating. Mineself thought I would never have to hear your bothersome voice again."
He almost gasped audibly at hearing his half-sister's response. "Damn you! I wish the Yang Sword had burned you to death! It would be more dignity than you deserve!"
"'Tis more dignity than a leashed dog like you deserves, though I suppose I may humor you as you perish. Do give mine regards to Lamia."
"You little-"
Suddenly, he winced as his ears popped. Prisca had cut the line.
Biting his lip, he turned the amulet upside-down, letting the lock of hair fall on the floor. So, she had the gall to leave him hanging like that, huh? To cut his own telepathic line? To condemn him and leave him like that!?
She would learn. Yes, she would, even if he had to be the one to teach her. He was the Emperor's son as much as she was the Emperor's daughter.
When they next met, he would ensure he took more than just a lock of her hair. He would scorch her to death personally, just as she promised to do the same to him.
He would do it because he was her elder, her superior in every regard. Because he was fit to rule in the eyes of the Yang Sword. Because he was the Emperor's son.
And, if nothing else, he would do it because he absolutely, truly, completely, and utterly, despised Prisca Benedict.
For the first time since Lamia's death, Palladio Manesque smiled as those thoughts crossed his mind.
"...but nine years ago, the High Count Peixit retired from the Imperial Army, claiming that he wanted to tend to his land, and now he's embroiled in a land dispute with his neighbor, High Count Qisuni, who…are you even listening?"
Subaru stared at Criff with a blank expression. He had unknowingly committed the grave mistake of asking the blonde man about this "High Count" they were going to see soon, since Subaru knew nothing about him, and Criff took the opportunity to display his knowledge. Now, Subaru knew Gaoran Peixit's entire life, or at least as much as he could remember from the mind-numbingly boring lecture, which - he might add - was not meant to be delivered as the two of them sat on the back of a carriage surrounded by a dozen guards.
Criff sneered. "You're not listening! You're not even taking notes!"
"I'm listening!" Subaru responded, crossing his arms. "And I don't have anything to take notes with!"
"Sure, let me just ask the Redmongers to lend us a paper and a quill," Criff hissed. "If you can't write it down, pay attention! I'm trying to help you here!"
Tilting his head, he asked the soldier, "Who're the 'Redmongers?'"
The man's eyes widened. "You…how? The Redmongers are Prisca Benedict's soldiers, those guys all in red, duh. They're pitiful, really. Any House in the Empire could beat them easily." As he finished, he smiled proudly and waved his hand.
Subaru pointed at him. "Then how come you lost?"
In an instant, Criff's face turned as crimson as the Redmongers' uniforms. "Shut up! What would some kid like you even know about that!? Pfah! As insufferable as that Benedict cur!"
The older man closed his eyes as he began to articulate with his hands wildly, ranting about this "Benedict" person. Subaru sat quietly as he talked on and on, then looked out of the carriage and paled.
"Mister Criff…" he muttered.
"What do you want!?" the soldier yelled. "I was trying to teach you something, but no~, you just ignored me. This is why I never joined House Benedict! Dealing with children like you is a pain, especially when they're all so self-entitled!"
He must have noticed Subaru's expression, because he closed his mouth and looked outside of the carriage…and his eyes widened in horror.
Standing there, just a few steps from them, was that girl with the silver hair and scant clothing. Her hand held that weird branch thing, and she remained stoic as she looked at them both. Somehow, that was scarier than seeing her angry.
Criff gave a shaky smile. "No chance you…didn't hear me, right?"
"No," the girl answered flatly.
"Great," he sighed. "At least I won't have to listen to that Chisha bastard anymore…"
The girl retained her completely uninterested expression and stayed silent until Criff scooted away from her. When he settled down as far as he could get from the entrance to the carriage, the girl turned to Subaru and said, "The princess wants to see you."
Subaru looked at Criff who - very unhelpfully - motioned for him to go, discreetly mouthing "hurry up" as he flattened his palm and slid it horizontally across his neck. That certainly did not motivate Subaru to go along with this, but he had no choice.
And so, he stepped off the carriage and looked around. They were in the outskirts of some camp, and everywhere he looked, there were soldiers in either red or black uniforms. A great number of them were not human, with some having either strangely-colored skin or some other subtle changes while others were downright animalistic, resembling a variety of creatures. Fortunately, that red-scaled lizard from the forest was not here.
By the time Subaru stopped looking around, the girl had already begun walking away, and he ran behind her to catch up. Once he stood at her side, the two of them walked in silence for a few seconds until Subaru asked, "Um…who's the princess?"
"She's the princess," the girl responded in her monotone voice.
"Oh…she's the princess of this…Empire?"
"That's correct."
Subaru made a mental note of that. Criff had mentioned once or twice that he worked for a woman who had been set to inherit the throne as well. "What's her name?"
The girl did not miss a beat as she replied, "Prisca Benedict."
Immediately, memories of Criff's hatred toward that name passed through Subaru's mind. He did not particularly know anyone here, but Criff was a good person, and if this Prisca had earned his ire, then…maybe it would be best to at least be wary of her.
The girl led him through the camp toward a great manor in the distance, which had been gravely damaged. Any red-clad soldiers they passed wasted no time in bowing to her, though she paid them no heed and continued onward.
Subaru looked up. The sky was darkening, and dusk was not far. He would most likely sleep in that carriage, unless Chisha gave him better accommodations.
Out of nowhere, the girl froze beside him, tightening her grip on her branch. She narrowed her eyes for an instant and pushed Subaru away so fast that it took him a second to realize what had happened. In the very same breath, she swung her branch in a vertical arc, stopping a bucketful of water mid-air before condensing it into an orb that hovered just in front of her.
"Heya, lil' doggie! Your only friend in this magnificent world has arrived, and with refreshments!"
The "attacker" gave her a beaming grin as he held up a metallic bucket. He was a young boy, probably just a year older than Subaru himself, with dark blue hair and a silver kimono. It took Subaru a moment, but he recognized the boy as the bloodied swordsman who dragged him to the camp in the forest. After all, there could not exist another person in this world with such a mischievous smile. Perhaps, it was for the best that there was only one such person: the world might not have been able to handle more than that.
The girl, for once, changed her expression, frowning as she floated the orb of water into the boy's bucket.
"Ah!" the boy exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head. "Right! I forgot this thing was full! Good thing I didn't spill it on you, ha!" With that, he pulled the bucket back and swung it at her again. The water hovered in the air for an instant before suddenly changing direction and splashing all over the blue menace, who just kept smiling and chuckled, "You know I can get more, right?"
"You better not," the girl threatened with actual emotion in her voice. "Leave, Cecilus Segmunt."
"Aw, don't be like that!" Cecilus tilted his head and rapped his temple with his knuckles. "If I leave, I'm coming back with another bucket."
"Why do you even have a bucket?"
"Oh, well…His Excellency said I had to help put out that forest fire…"
Cecilus pouted and Subaru could see the girl's lip twitch upward ever-so-slightly. The very next second, however, the cerulean trickster turned to look at Subaru, and his smile widened. "Heya! It's that crybaby from the forest!"
Subaru felt his cheeks redden. "I'm not a crybaby! And you're the one covered in water!"
"Of course I am! Do you know how hot it gets out here? This is really refreshing! I can get you a bucket too, if you want!"
The girl flicked her branch and warned, "Cecilus…"
Cecilus paid no heed to her as he bowed to Subaru and, with unrestrained enthusiasm, proclaimed, "Well, I need to introduce myself!" Before Subaru realized it, Cecilus was standing right in front of him, shaking his hand. "I'm Cecilus Segmunt, no thanks to the lil' doggie ruining that part of my debut! I'm this world's rising star, the protagonist of every story there is to tell! My name will be synonymous with excellence! Just like Reid Astrea himself, I'll rise to the very top of this world and win over the hearts of everyone in it!" He let go of Subaru's hand and quickly twirled in place, spraying water everywhere. "But fret not! I'll let you and the lil' doggie have the front-row seats, so make sure to bring roses for the curtain call!"
He froze and struck a pose, putting both hands on his hips and turning his face sideways so fast that his ponytail hit him in the nose.
After a few seconds of silence, he raised an eyebrow and said, "Well…this is where you give your introduction!"
"What?" Subaru pointed at himself. "Do I HAVE to!?"
"Would you prefer I call you 'crybaby' forever!?"
Terrified by the prospect of such a fate, Subaru put one hand to his waist and raised the other to point at the sky. "I-I'm Natsuki Subaru! Son of Natsuki Kenichi!"
"You're both insufferable," the silver-haired girl muttered.
Cecilus, meanwhile, just laughed and said, "I've never heard a name like yours, Nachuki Shubawu! Where you from!?"
"Ah…it's this place to the east. Japan? I don't think you've heard of it."
Somehow, that response was enough to - apparently - shock the silver-haired girl, as her eyes widened. Cecilus, however, laughed with clear amazement and grabbed him by the shoulders. "That's fantastic! You're Lugnican!? I've never seen a Lugnican in my life! Do all of you have such weird eyes!? Is it true you guys lost a war against a snake!? Is the Divine Dragon really as big as they say!?"
"You're Lugnican?" the girl asked, her tone as cold as when she addressed Cecilus.
"No!" Subaru immediately clarified. He noticed a few of the soldiers nearby were giving them…giving him…odd looks. "I don't know what you're talking about! I'm from Japan, not…wherever you're talking about!"
Cecilus tilted his head. "Huh? Everyone knows there's no country further east than the Kingdom of Lugnica! I mean, that's what His Excellency and mister Rowan said!" He pointed at the girl with his thumb and added, "Even those who don't know how to read a map know that!"
"You can't read maps, Cecilus," she replied.
"Huh, what!? Who told you that!?"
"Master Vincent."
"No way! I thought he was on MY side! Was he really this play's antagonist all along!?"
Subaru watched their back-and-forth bickering as he thought about what Cecilus had let slip. The "Kingdom of Lugnica," huh? And it was the land farthest to the east? That meant there was probably an ocean or something beyond it. If this was like some fantasy anime - which it undoubtedly was - they might even be on a floating island!
But that meant little to him. Sure, it would be super cool if he got to see a flying island while he was here, but he did not plan to stick around in this Empire, or this world for that matter, any longer than he had to. If there was a way into this fantasy world, there had to be a way out.
"Excuse me," he said, raising his hand right in the middle of one of Cecilus's impassioned speeches. "Erm, if the Kingdom is the farthest land to the east…what's beyond it?"
"The Great Cascade!" the blue teen answered. "They say it's su~per high up! And you never stop falling down! One day I'll get to the bottom of it! That's something the Sword Saint could never do, you know!?"
The girl merely uttered, "I support you on that endeavor."
Subaru spoke up before Cecilus could start another speech. "So…what's beyond that?"
"Nothing," the girl replied.
"Yep!" Cecilus continued. "There's nothing after that! Someone…ate it a while ago! Dunno how, but they did!"
Oh.
Someone ate a part of the world? That was…not good.
Just as Subaru opened his mouth to ask another question - now was as good a time as any to learn about his situation - a new voice pierced the air, one voice filled with pride, that said, "Mineself thought his ignorance would be amusing, but even the lowliest jester could top such a display."
The speaker was a young girl not quite into her teens yet, who held a closed fan. She stepped up to them with an air of absolute confidence that made Subaru immediately tell her apart from the others he had seen thus far. Cecilus was easily self-absorbed, but this girl was leagues above him in that regard, judging by the smirk she was giving Subaru.
The silver-haired girl lowered her head and quietly walked over to stand beside the newcomer as Cecilus waved at them both. "Heya, young lady! Come to witness my mythical feats once more!? I'd be down to demonstrate with the lil' doggie like last time!"
"Oh," the new girl said, narrowing her eyes at Cecilus. "Brother's dog is here as well." She pointed at the older boy with her fan. "Mineself has no interest in hearing your jabbering, even if my dear brother does. Go irritate him. You are most suited to that task."
Cecilus pursed his lips as his smile vanished. "You're mean, young lady!"
"Princess," the silver-haired girl muttered, pouting. "I'm sorry for the delay."
In response, the princess - no, Prisca Benedict - flicked her servant's forehead. "Has mineself broached that subject, Arakiya?"
"No, princess…"
"Indeed, so you are not to worry about it." Prisca turned to Subaru, and he flinched involuntarily. "As for you…perhaps mine dear brother will find your obtuseness endearing. He does seem to surround himself with such clowns." With that comment, Cecilus pouted. "Yet, you lack any outstanding quality to differentiate yourself from the common rabble, aside from your appearance. If brother wishes to employ another fool, he has better candidates than you."
Subaru stammered for a moment, caught off-guard by her sudden onslaught of insults. "W-what?"
"Hmph. And not even a retort. There may be hope for you yet, but mineself expected more from such an enigma." She shook her head, seemingly disappointed. "Perhaps you shall prove entertaining when next we meet."
She did not even wait for Subaru's response before turning and leaving, with Arakiya close behind.
As Subaru tried to process what just happened, Cecilus sang, "We~ll, I still have a forest fire to put out, so…see ya 'round, Nagumi Suaru!"
With that, he disappeared, leaving Subaru all alone.
As the sun vanished over the horizon, Count Bluhart lit a candle on his desk.
Pushing up his glasses, he looked over the few remaining papers in front of him. Given his territory's location between Ladrima and Picoutatte, along the Vollachian border, he had an endless stream of messages to review from his counterpart in the Empire, along with a great variety of appeals to him by his citizens.
As far as Lugnican noblemen went, Nolan Bluhart was the very definition of ordinary.
All that would mark him in a crowd was his aquamarine hair and eyes, as he was a man of slightly-below-average stature who was neither thin nor large, and was not muscular enough to be called well-built but also not cursed with stick-like limbs.
Still, he never found himself praying to the Divine Dragon for anything, despite his adherence to the Church's strictures. The first lesson he ever learned as a Count was that, thanks to his distance from the Lugnican capital, he would never be called upon for counsel on important matters aside those concerning Vollachia. That was alright. No point getting tangled up in what the Council of Wisemen did not deem fit to include him in.
He was a Count, and that was the end of it. Besides, being in the middle of the social ladder was not that terrible.
Squinting as he held up a letter, his next paper to go over, Nolan gave a faint sigh. The sender was a close friend of his, Katrien Coesant, who quite enjoyed gossip. She was, much as he loathed to say it, his only source of information in the Lugnican capital. The city could catch fire and he would never learn about it unless the Council told him.
He read the letter carefully, grinning at some of the woman's uncouth remarks about the rest of the nobility. There was little of note going on, she claimed. Apparently, Morgan Frantz of the Dragon Kingdom Newsletter ran a very nasty article on Gwain Merette - who was rightfully called "The Faker" - that resulted in the former having a bottle thrown at him and the latter getting reprimanded by Margrave Mathers himself. Odd. Nolan thought the Margrave better suited to entertaining at parties, not politics, but that was all well and fine. No point getting up in arms over a man who lived across the nation.
Next came some reports from Vollachia, passed by his counterpart in the Empire. He distrusted the reports, naturally, since no Imperial would ever tell the truth to a Kingdom nobleman like himself, but he and his counterpart cooperated in hopes of preventing friction between the countries. Everything flowed smoothly, so they were clearly doing a good job.
There was a Newsletter article about the Karsten family, the Bluharts' ancient rivals. To be precise, they were rivals in the yell-and-call-each-other-names way, not the more Imperial rip-your-throat-out-and-use-your-skull-as-a-cup way. It was all politics, really. The Karstens were too conservative, too stuck to the Kingdom's past, to see what the Bluharts saw: that Lugnica needed change if it wished to grow and assert its power. Power, Nolan often said, was determined by one's ability to thrive without external aid.
The article proved to be boring drivel, typical of the Newsletter. It was always the same with them. "Is Duke Karsten building an army? Is Duke Karsten stepping down? Is Duke Karsten secretly Vollachian?" Who cared? Clearly, though, the masses ate it all up, because the article had a small note attached to it by one of the Bluhart employees clarifying that the "news" had been "slightly edited" in the name of "clarifying some unsubstantiated claims" after repeated insistence that the article was no more than "substandard garbage" by the Karstens' Guard-Captain and head of security, some man named Kolwin.
As a self-respecting nobleman, Nolan chuckled and threw the article to the trash, where it belonged. Picking up the second-to-last document on his desk, he grimaced. It was a letter from the Council.
Opening it with the utmost care, Nolan inspected its contents as if it were a summons for his own trial. Thankfully, it was nothing so grave. The Council was calling a meeting with His Majesty, Randohal Lugnica, and a few select nobles to discuss…"future relations with the Sacred Vollachian Empire and its Emperor."
That was definitely strange, but it was no cause for alarm. If there was war on the horizon, Nolan would be the first to know, since he would be the first besieged by the Empire's army.
The meeting was set to happen in a week, so he set to drafting up what he would request from his employees while he was gone.
As he wrote his instructions on a few pieces of paper, the final document on his desk, a letter bearing the Empire's Swordwolf sigil, sat undisturbed, waiting, as the Lugnican blue-blood scribbled away.
When the moon rose in the Vollachian sky, a visitor came to Criff's carriage.
Criff would have shooed her away, if she had not brought with her two plates of actual food.
He eyed her warily as she set the plates down, one in front of him and another in front of Subaru. After the boy returned from his impromptu kidnapping by Prisca Benedict's executioner, he explained all that happened. Criff believed it. Prisca was known for being fickle and cruel like that. He did make a note to himself to be more wary of any Redmongers that came his way.
The visitor, however, was clad in House Abellux's black uniform. She was a dark, plump woman with a motherly air about her. She reminded Criff of his own mother, but he pushed that thought away.
"Well, I've lost a bet," she said once she was done with the plates. Criff was shocked that they contained actual food and not army rations. "And here I thought this 'kid' everyone kept talkin' about was just a tall tale. Battle fatigue's a tough mistress, ya know?"
Subaru barely waited before picking up the plate and digging into his food, a delicious-looking piece of steak. The woman had brought utensils, but Criff had the suspicion that Subaru would have devoured the food with his own hands if she had not brought the silverware.
"What's your name?" he asked, picking up his plate but not touching the food. "Why're you here? If Chisha poisoned this food, he'll have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of us." At the mention of poison, Subaru stiffened and looked at him with wide eyes.
The woman laughed. "Please. If General Gold wanted you dead, I'd wring your necks with me own hands. Dishes are his courtesy. First and final gift, he called 'em."
"You haven't answered my questions."
"First-Class Soldier Gia Sleis, one of General Gold's secretaries. I'm your driver to High Count Peixit's doorstep, yeah? You'll have seen a finer carriage driver in your life, I'm sure, but me? I get you there fast. Tomorrow sunrise, you'll be chatting the High Count's ear off, and I'll be back at my desk."
Criff looked down at his plate. That sleeping dart had left him with an appetite fit for a mabeast. "You'll just kill us on the way. Dump our bodies in som-"
"Od, man," she interrupted him. "Are all Godwin men this grim? Let the kid eat and leave your thoughts to fester, if you're going to be that gloomy. C'mon, eat your dish, 'fore I beat you with it."
He did as he was told, and once he swallowed the first bite, he said, "It's cold."
Gia glared daggers at him. "'Course it is. I walked from the manor, no thanks to whoever left you out here. Suppose it's more comfortable than the manor's basement, though. Less torture devices."
She grinned widely and waved her hand when Subaru gave a small squeak at her comment.
"Nah, nah, no torture devices, I promise," she clarified. "Might be a few in other rooms, but not in the basement, no. Now, eat up! Sooner you're done, sooner you'll see the High Count!"
She walked away laughing, heading toward the front of the carriage.
Criff met Subaru's gaze, and the boy looked down at his half-eaten steak. "I don't think I'm that hungry anymore…"
"Eat it, kid," he ordered, cutting another piece. "You never know when you'll get your next good meal. Besides…Abellux is paying for this. Consider it our little way of rebelling against him."
As Criff bit the cold meat, Subaru asked him, "Is it always like this?"
Still biting, Criff smiled and replied, "Welcome to the Empire."
AN: GUESS WHO GOT EX 5!
That's right! At long, long, long last, I can finally get canon-accurate information!
Ahem. I'll, uh...cut the line here. Leave you all to enjoy the chapter.
Do pay close attention to the names in Nolan's section though...
