Chapter 97 - 8-11
Marvel Boony woke up feeling as though she had seen an important dream.
It was deep within the forest, where the morning sun sparkled between the groves of trees.
In the dream, Marvel had reasoned through something and reached a certain conclusion. She could not remember it. It was not a dream where the ground split open haphazardly or where she became naked. It was a dream with a clear and correct progression: this became that, and next it would become this. Therefore, it could be considered as follows.
Her body had been asleep, but her mental excitement must have persisted, continuing its activity.
—Something, something important.
She felt she had understood. She believed she had reached the thing she wanted to know.
Mozu Wolf, who had been sleeping nearby, suddenly sat up. He blinked and looked down, appearing to be thinking about something.
"I saw a dream for the first time in years,"
Mozu said to Marvel with a smile.
"What kind of dream?"
"I can't remember."
The four prisoners who had escaped from prison along with Mozu woke up one after another.
The man who slept until the end shouted "Great King!" in his sleep before leaping awake, making everyone laugh.
"What, do you miss the Great King so much that you're dreaming of him?"
Being teased like that, the last man to wake up scratched his head. "No, I definitely had a dream, but what kind of dream was it..."
—Me too.
—I saw one too.
It seemed everyone had seen a dream. It must be a mere coincidence. However, Marvel felt it was somewhat eerie. She felt she now understood the creepiness that superstitious people feel in the forest. Marvel cast her eyes toward the bundles of red light created by the dawn and the darkness lurking beneath them. Naturally, there was nothing there.
"Everyone, listen to me." Marvel chased the foolish thoughts from her head.
Since the four others besides Mozu were Southerners, the language was Enagamo.
The men gathered. Each of them carried the blankets Marvel had distributed the previous night.
"Before that, is this alright?" Mozu Wolf said. "I hadn't thanked you. Marvel, you saved me. I thought I'd be like that until the war ended, but it looks like I'll make it in time for the best moment."
"Mozu-sama. I beg you to please give my regards to the Great King. To be clear, the reason I helped you, sir, was for that purpose."
"I know."
Marvel noticed that white hairs were mixed into Mozu Wolf's black beard.
"I once told you that there was a grudge within your clan. Do you remember?"
Marvel nodded.
"That grudge has vanished. I understand your wish. You want to meet the Great King once; is that all?"
"Exactly, Mozu-sama."
"Mozu is fine." Mozu narrowed his hawk-like sharp eyes. "I will take responsibility and arrange for you to meet the Great King. However, be careful. Regarding the matter of Sitris of Attaik and the matter of the great fire this time, you must never be proud of them. Face the Great King with an attitude of explaining that it was unavoidable."
"That is... but..."
—Is it not an achievement?
Marvel was bewildered.
"The Great King is a warrior. Warriors have the honor and duty of warriors. If you had arrayed your troops and fought, a great fire might be permitted after defeating the enemy. However, sneaking into enemy territory and setting fires is cowardly. Of course—"
"Wait, wait. Is this not a war?"
"Exactly, it is a war. That is precisely why I believe the Great King wishes to settle things through a fair and open contest. Otherwise, it would leave seeds of resentment for future governance. Of course, in war, there is no meaning in not winning, even if the methods are unorthodox. The Great King actually knows this. However, he cannot openly support it. Furthermore, it was not an order given by the Great King himself. It was your own discretion, and regarding Attaik, it was my own discretion. We are grateful to you. But from the Great King's perspective, you and I simply did as we pleased. Naturally, the Great King will not support it. Marvel, this is an important point."
Marvel chewed over Mozu's words. In the end, she bowed her head.
Marvel could intuitively understand politics based on military force. The strong are right, and meaning exists only in the result. However, so-called governance, like civil administration, did not click with her. She even thought that things like rank, the order of events, nominals, and formalities were not things Kosa people did.
But at this moment, Marvel understood what Mozu wanted to say.
Officially, Geraha could not evaluate what Marvel had done.
Conversely, Mozu must have wanted to say that if it were unofficial, there was a possibility he would acknowledge Marvel.
"You said Mozu is fine," Marvel said. "I beg your favor. I leave everything to you. Please, I rely on you."
"Umu. I swear I will let you meet the Great King. Lift your head. By the way—what happened to that black woman?"
"If you mean Rivet—"
She should be hiding in the church. There is no need for concern. Rivet would catch up to Marvel no matter where she was.
"More importantly!"
Marvel had completely regained her energy. Along with the budding of hope, she felt as though she had rejuvenated into a child and puffed out her chest. The chainmail of a Siddim low-ranking soldier, worn for disguise, was lifted by a youthful swell.
"Don't think you can return to the Kosa camp for free. I've tied the horses ahead, but there are only two. I've only prepared one set of clothes. We'll need to procure some somewhere."
He wanted her to be prepared to move through the forest for a while and to not even raise smoke.
"But rest assured. I have secured a safe path to the Twin Forts. It will take some time, but regardless, we can return alive."
The men tightened their expressions and nodded to one another.
Satisfied, Marvel distributed dried mutton she had hidden in the forest along with the blankets. With this, they could eat while walking. The mountain hunt had likely already been carried out. There was no time to rest on this itinerary.
Udoh Renne woke up feeling as though his name had been called in a dream.
The state of being half-asleep lasted only a moment, and Udoh immediately covered himself with a blanket and strained his eyes in the early morning twilight.
The actual scenery was closer to a dream than the dream itself. This place was like the heavens.
It was the midpoint of the Dwarf Mountains. The ground was far below.
—My name was called.
For a long time, Udoh lay flat on the ground, guarding his surroundings. There was not a single silhouette. He finally relaxed his guard, wondering if he had just seen a dream.
Udoh crawled out from the blanket, took a sip of water, and ate the bread he had brought.
While eating, he confirmed many times that no pursuers were coming.
The Kosa people intended to construct another fort inside the Twin Forts, and the prisoners were being used for that work. During that work, carrying a water bucket, Udoh had drifted away from the task. He had walked leisurely, hid in the thickets on the east side where he had concealed his blanket and belongings, and carried out his escape in broad daylight, moving from thicket to thicket.
The interior of the Twin Forts, which the Kosa army used as a base, was surrounded on four sides by natural strategic points. To the south and west were deep forests, to the north were steep hills, and to the east was the slope of the Dwarf Mountains.
The Kosa people believed that the only exit was to the northeast, between the Twin Forts.
Udoh, of course, knew that mistake. The area around the Twin Forts was the land of the Renne family. He knew every corner of it. The mountain path climbing the Dwarf Mountains that Udoh was following was known only to locals.
By following this, he could reach Carossa, and crossing Carossa, he could reach Dint.
The Renne family cavalry were stationed in Dint. If he could merge with them,
—He could fight one more battle with the lot at the Twin Forts.
Whether it was lucky or unlucky to be able to participate a second, third time in the extreme of war, Udoh did not know. He was simply being called. The land, the land of the Renne family, was calling out to Udoh. This was not some kind of illusion.
Udoh was a man who would have lived far more happily as a farmer than as a noble.
He was fascinated by the interest of the soil. Even regarding fertilization, whether cow manure, horse manure, or human manure was better—he had talked with the land—he was a man who could talk with the soil. Soil is something to be fertilized and grown every year. Soil does not grow simply by letting livestock graze and defecate once every three years, as in the three-field system. Every year, one enriches the soil by spreading leaf mold or ash. In that way, over many years, one creates a field where delicious wheat grows. Soil becomes a field with a good yield only with the patience of ten or twenty years.
However, this work is fragile.
If one does not cultivate for a single year, the field returns to its original useless soil. This is a mysterious thing, but the soil of a field has some kind of action that breaks down fertilizer into nutrients. The something that exerts that action dies when it is left fallow and covered in weeds. Even the earthworms in the soil seem to change their constitution and stop producing good manure.
On the land of the Renne family, they decided to leave a field fallow and start everything over only when bad mold proliferated in the soil. Other than that, they had maintained superior fields capable of enduring continuous cropping. However, this year it was likely already no use.
The Kosa people did not know how to cultivate fields. All the soil would die.
There were ancestral fields that had become top-tier fertile land over fifty years. Those would die too.
Udoh could hear those screams.
—Well, it ain't a big deal.
Dead soil can just be grown again. However, humans are not like that. The screams of the farmers throughout Siddim were more poignant than the screams of the soil.
The reason Udoh wanted to save Siddim was for the Siddim people who had spent years of labor on the soil. They must be rewarded; that was Udoh's natural justice.
For that reason, Udoh climbed the mountain with a body like a scrawny horse.
He climbed the mountain path of the Dwarf Mountains steadily, and upon crossing the ridge, Udoh unexpectedly encountered a person. A man wearing a cloak. He was sitting down in the middle of the narrow mountain path, looking despondent.
That chubby man had a sword at his waist. Seeing Udoh's face, he drew his sword and stood up.
"Who are you!"
"I'm Udoh, son of the Renne family of Count Villen."
Udoh had no weapon. Having made up his mind, he sat down on a nearby stone. "And who might you be?"
"Count Villen? Son? What of the war?"
"I fought. Then I became a prisoner. But I escaped."
"Under whose command?"
"Who knows. I was under Ostra-sama at first. After that, I took orders from Hilboro-sama."
"You are not a noble, then?" The chubby man readjusted his grip on the sword. The tip of the blade was trembling.
"I'm a noble, even if I look like this. You, what's your name?"
"Ernes Anil, head of the Anil family, retainers of the Thora family."
"An administrator of Carossa," Udoh said. "That's a distinguished house. I felt sorry for Sedias-sama. Even people from the East praise Sedias-sama."
"What! He died?" Ernes Anil flinched. "What are you saying!"
"You don't know anything, do ya. Well, sit down."
The chubby Ernes did not sit. However, after hearing the details of the war that Udoh spoke of, he eventually fell to his knees. He was weeping.
"It's finally the end," Ernes said in a tearful voice. "The Thora family is finished. My house is also impossible now."
Saying so, he pressed the tip of the sword he held against his throat.
Udoh was surprised. He stood up quickly and snatched the sword from Ernes. Ernes seemed to have no will to resist.
"I'll help ya, so tell me the situation."
When Udoh made the blunt proposal, Ernes Anil, while sniffing, began to talk about the circumstances of the Anil family and the situation in Carossa.
Cloden Danforth met with nostalgic faces in Saranti and drank a bit too much the previous night.
Since he had a high tolerance for alcohol, he woke up refreshed the next morning.
—I had a dream.
He felt he had seen a good dream, though he couldn't recall what it was. As the sleepiness in his head awakened, the mist of the dream evaporated in the morning sun.
It was a high-quality bedroom. The bed was also a luxurious item adorned with carvings. The plaster on the walls was as white as if it had just been applied. Because of the large amount of light entering the room, it seemed to shine even whiter. The windows were large. The south side was practically all glass. It was an astounding luxury.
The overflowing light and the pure white of the walls reminded Cloden of Krisina.
He wondered if she had appeared in the dream he couldn't remember. It was not quite clear.
He folded the borrowed sleepwear and changed into his own clothes. He put on his cloak and left the room.
The dining hall was also as bright as the outdoors. The windows were wide open, to the point of being dazzling. Since castles are made by piling up stones, it is normal for the walls to be thick to support that weight. Therefore, he had thought that windows could not be made large, but it seemed it was different if one had gold coins. Architectural technology likely evolved with gold coins, and the common sense of the time changed.
Raslaf Dravar was on a terrace protruding outside the window. Blown by the wind, the loose cuffs of his white clothes fluttered. A childishness still seemed visible in his profile, and he had not lost the air of a beautiful youth.
However, his gaze had become more manly.
"Cloden."
"Yo, Raslaf. Last night was fun," Cloden said, sitting at the terrace table. "Were you thinking about something? You seemed to be spacing out."
"I had a dream. But I can't remember it."
"A dream, huh."
Cloden had also been spacing out thinking about a dream until just a moment ago. However, when Raslaf did it, it looked strangely fitting.
"Don't worry about dreams. It's surely a good omen. More importantly..."
Since he was alone with the Prince of Saranti, Cloden wanted to lay the groundwork. He had to persuade Raslaf's mother, Helderica Dravar, to cooperate with the Royal Army. If possible, he wanted Raslaf to be an ally.
Just as he was about to start talking,
"What are we talking about?"
A voice sounded. Turning around, a plump youth and a youth with a shaved head approached.
They were Kashu Coil and Zett Mengel.
Both were comrades from the Fourth Army. Cloden had been surprised to see the two last night. He had been concerned about their whereabouts, but he had not known where they were or what they were doing.
Kashu and Zett seemed to have lost their place due to Sedias Thora's reorganization of the East. Kashu had been kicked out of his house, and Zett Mengel had abandoned his house of his own accord. The elder brother of the Mengel brothers, Raidi Mengel, was said to have died in prison during the Thora family's suppression of the East.
Raidi was cheerful and skilled, and his mental rotation was twice as fast as Cloden's.
—Talented people die young.
Last night, while drinking, Cloden had thought of Raidi's image.
The two who had lost their place had taken refuge with the Dravar family. This was because the Dravar family had declared they were raising an army. Even the pleasure-seeking, gluttonous Kashu seemed intend to fight without forgetting his duty.
As for Zett, he would likely seek an outlet for his anger over losing his brother in the coming war.
Kashu and Zett came to the terrace and sat at the table.
"It's nothing. We were talking about dreams," Raslaf said.
"Speaking of dreams, I feel like I saw a strange dream too," Kashu said.
"A dream about food, right?" Cloden teased.
"I hate how you treat me like a country bumpkin. You just keep eating potatoes. In this world, there are things delicious enough to dream about. I'm not certain if it was a dream about food, though."
Kashu was unchanged from before. When they last parted, Kashu had grown quite thin from prison life. Now, he had completely returned to his original physique.
"If it's dreams, I saw one too, though I can't remember what kind of dream it was."
Zett, who had been devout and serious, had changed slightly.
Zett Mengel used to be a fussy man who even gave opinions on other people's lifestyle attitudes. Now he was completely calm. He was like a genuine member of the clergy.
"I'd like to keep talking like this, but Cloden probably wants to talk about something else."
Raslaf laughed.
The one who showed the most change was this man, Raslaf Dravar. Where had that crybaby Raslaf gone? The man before him was full of confidence and exerted a natural leadership.
"Last night became a banquet, so we couldn't talk," Cloden said. "Before that, isn't Saranti just an incredibly pleasant territory? The beauty of that inlet visible in the distance. I wonder if the better the territory, the more it makes people soft."
Cloden threw that out first.
"Kashu, you seem like you'd speak frankly. What do you think of our war? Udoh Renne became a prisoner of Geraha Wolf. Zeal Androsh lost his territory. Even so, they are cooperating with Haider. Kashu, what are you doing now?"
"I'll let me say something too, Cloden. What on earth happened to Haider Skyner? Has he been completely softened by the Royal Army and become a dog?"
"Haider exiled Dico Thora."
"And he obtained Ganlord. Moreover, by colluding with the Danforth family, retainers of the Thora family."
"If you didn't know, I apologize for the lack of explanation, but we're in the middle of a war with the Kosa army. Haider has no choice but to use everything he can use."
"He sold the pride of the East and bought Ganlord."
"Don't think we're facing an opponent we can beat with pride," Cloden said, as if spitting the words out. "The East might borrow the strength of the West, let alone the Royal Army. At a time like that, Saranti is eating delicious meals and drinking good wine—"
"It was good wine, wasn't it?" Kashu laughed.
"Eating delicious meat and drinking good wine—"
Just as he was about to say it, a servant arrived. He had brought breakfast.
"Excuse me while you are talking. The shrimp has been prepared."
Cloden thanked him, took the soup plate, and brought it to his mouth without placing it on the table. Taking one sip, it was again a groaning deliciousness. Cloden's chest became full. Thinking that nothing more might pass through his throat, he set the plate down.
"We also believe we understand the situation in Dint and Belgau,"
Zett Mengel said. He likely noticed Cloden's state.
"Furthermore, I want you to not assume that we are just resting in peace."
"Siddim is losing,"
Cloden said.
"We are being whittled down and retreating, retreating and being exhausted. Many soldiers are on the brink of life and death."
"I know. However," Zett said. "The Royal Army is led by the West. The Dravar family should not cooperate with the Royal Army. Cloden, what happened to our principles? It might be unavoidable that Dint and Belgau submitted to the Thora family. However, the Dravar family did not submit to the Thora family. They are the only house in Siddim that repelled the Thora family."
"Our principle is the restoration of the East. However, above that, we should be holding a larger principle for the sake of the royal family and for the sake of Siddim. Besides, besides, the Thora family is already gone. You guys, what, how long are you going to bask in past victories?"
"Laicanel Thora," Raslaf interrupted in a cool voice, "has apparently entered Delroy. The Thora family hasn't vanished and disappeared. Rumor has it that Yugis is alive and participating in those movements. Cloden, do you expect something from that?"
The information of Yugis's survival was Cloden's trump card.
If Yugis's supernatural power still remained, he might be able to make Raslaf and the others change their minds. Certainly, in that sense, Cloden had expectations for Yugis.
"Unfortunately, the Western Army that Laicanel is trying to create gathered only a few soldiers. My political advisor reports it as a 'complete dud.' You said Siddim is losing. From my perspective, it's different. The Royal Army is losing. Saranti has no obligation to follow the orders of a defeated general. We don't have soldiers that can be entrusted to a defeated army."
"Knowing that much, and yet only such optimistic things come out of you." Sarcasm was Cloden's bad habit. "I guess you really do grow dull. If you don't participate in war. No matter how you guys think, I consider you my comrades. If that's how you feel, I'll respect any foolish thought. But it would be a shame if you just stayed silent here and returned to the battlefield."
—Yugis is alive and will bring the Western Army.
Cloden said.
"The talk of the Western Army being a dud is exactly as Haider predicted. It's nothing to be surprised about. Even so, Yugis will somehow form a shape and come. That bastard will probably do something interesting. If you guys don't want to be involved, that's fine. As you know, Yugis is a detached man. Even if he hears your thoughts, he'll probably just end it with 'I see.'"
"We—"
Cloden cut off Kashu as he spoke.
"You guys can't be involved in anything. You shouldn't move from this place."
"We can move freely," Raslaf said.
"You'd better stop," Cloden shook his head. "If you move clumsily, Yugis will first attack and seize Saranti. He'll squander all the wealth of this territory in war. He's that kind of man."
Raslaf tried to laugh, but his expression clouded.
Kashu and Zett also both made unpleasant faces.
Cloden somehow held back the urge to burst out laughing.
Gilma Rigardie, the Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Siddim, visited the detached palace while yawning, trying to remember last night's dream. Inside the detached palace, he spotted a strange black mass. Just as he thought it was uncleaned trash, he saw it was an old man clad in black clerical robes. He was sitting on the floor of the colonnade overlooking the courtyard, lingering in the morning sunlight.
What drew Gilma's attention was that Consort Yumeria was there. She was kneeling to match the eye level of the old man, talking earnestly about something.
The old man was nodding with a serious expression. In the end, he reached out casually and touched the Queen's swollen belly. That Queen was bowing her head and welcoming that hand.
Queen Yumeria walked away in the opposite direction of where Gilma was, accompanied by a lady-in-waiting who was hopping like a rabbit. Thinking that he could have asked about the situation if she had come this way, Gilma passed behind the old man and intended to just keep going. In the end, he turned back.
"Who are you?"
"One-Eyed Zarko."
Saying so, he looked up at Gilma. One eye was covered by a black eyepatch.
It was a name he had heard before.
Gilma sat down next to Zarko. "A mage, were you?"
"You are the Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Siddim."
"Yes. You entered quite easily, didn't you? This is the detached palace."
"I came last night, thinking His Majesty might be troubled."
"Even if you came suddenly, they wouldn't have let you in, would they?"
"Not necessarily. His Majesty welcomed me without acting haughty. However—" Zarko sighed. "For this moment, I kept my body pure and even restarted my training from scratch to prepare."
"What are you talking about?"
"Magic. Since I am a mage."
The old man spoke slowly about things that, from Gilma's perspective, were nothing but nonsense.
"I intended to use His Majesty's body as a divine object and his head as a medium to transmit magic throughout all of Siddim. 'Awaken!' I would say. 'Awaken!' I intended to awaken the fighting spirit of Siddim. I believed that with my magic, this country would be stirred up."
"Hoh. And then?"
"His Majesty was not very pleased with that idea. He said he wanted to protect the peace of the people. No matter how much I used words, it was no use. In the end, I was the one struck by His Majesty's majesty and ended up prostrating myself. Perhaps all the mages of Siddim are nothing more than priests and shrine maidens of the Serpent God King."
Still, Zarko had persisted. It seemed the King had compromised. According to His Majesty,
"He wished to pose a question to the people in Siddim. If that were the case, he said he would not spare his cooperation. He wanted to pose a riddle not only to Siddim people, but to all people currently in this land."
"Why?"
"I know not. He said a good question would lead each person to a good answer. I don't understand the meaning. I was completely flustered."
"So—did you do it?"
The old man with the eyepatch nodded. "Prime Minister, what kind of dream did you see?"
"A dream? Well. I definitely saw a dream, but—I don't remember."
"That is normal. Not remembering means either you couldn't answer the question, or you answered incorrectly."
"What? —You posed a riddle in a dream? Tell me. What kind of riddle did you pose?"
"His Majesty spoke of his own philosophy, but if you boil it down, it was like a question of 'who are you.' I don't quite understand it."
"You don't understand? Is that the punchline of the story?"
"I am appalled at myself too." Zarko sighed again. "But perhaps it is a good question. Unless one can answer that question immediately, the current Siddim cannot be saved."
Perhaps feeling refreshed after talking, Zarko stood up and walked into the courtyard without a word of farewell. Like a black stain appearing in the beautiful garden, he walked toward the gate.
In his place, Gilma felt as though he had taken root. Along with the shrinking shadow of the mage, the sensation of yesterday's dream also seemed to drift away. Knowing it was futile, Gilma chased the afterimage of the dream.
As for how accustomed to war the West was, it could be seen by the fact that when the army moved, food followed. Food was also waiting for them at every destination of the army. Farmers with food loaded on carts arrived in succession. They brought it according to rules so that the surplus crops of each farm could be distributed equally. It felt as if a supply network was forming on its own.
Most of the bills for payment arrived at the Thora family as tabs. The Thora family did not consider this a painful expense. Selling favors to the lords in such ways was a form of politics.
The Western Army was resting its wings in a territory called Moskov.
The total number of the Western Army was not increasing. It was decreasing due to the expiration of military service obligations. Infantry and cavalry were returning to their hometowns one after another, saying, "My term of military service has ended." In other words, it had been for show from the beginning.
"What will you do?"
Laicanel pressed Yugis. Yugis stopped the sword practice he was giving to his attendant, Dash, and sat down next to Laicanel. It was the front yard of the castle in Moskov.
"There's no 'what,' we just win the first battle."
—If they win, the soldiers joining the army will increase.
Yugis spoke with full confidence.
"However, as it stands, personnel are decreasing, and it's doubtful if we can even maintain the form of an army."
"As long as we can secure a certain number of people, it's fine. Ness says we should win the first battle with cavalry."
"Challenge them with horses? Against the Kosa people?"
Certainly, with cavalry, a strategy could be devised even with a small number of people.
However, trying to beat the Kosa people in mobility was reckless. Yugis himself had insistently said that the opponent was fast.
"Regarding that, I am also somewhat worried. Therefore, I think we should pick out an enemy of a scale that Ness can defeat."
"True. —That's for the best." Laicanel nodded.
As a friend, he couldn't let Ness be disgraced.
They would search for an enemy that looked weak. However, winning against small fry wouldn't raise one's military reputation, so they just had to find an enemy they could beat brilliantly to serve as propaganda.
"Dash! Break time is over."
As Yugis stood up to return to practice, Laicanel called out to him.
"Speaking of Ness, did you hear the talk about the dream?"
"A dream?" Yugis looked back while adjusting his leather belt.
"This morning, everyone apparently saw an impressive dream, but no one remembers the content. However, Ness is different. He says he saw a dream where he became a bird and aimed for the sun. You? Did you see one?"
"Yeah."
"Do you remember it?"
"Yeah. Because it was a dream I see often."
"—Hoh, what kind?"
Yugis muttered awkwardly.
—A dream of a woman.
Saying so, he picked up the wooden sword and left.
Yugis was very much an unrefined man from the East. However, that answer was quite good. Laicanel liked it. It was more sensual and interesting than a dream of a bird.
—Is it a dream of the Princess?
If so, it could be called pitiful. He had heard that Lucy had entered a convent. In the first place, it was not a love that could have worked out. Laicanel had half-forgotten that Lucy had been his former fiancée. Even if Yugis still harbored feelings for the Princess, he didn't feel much discomfort.
He didn't feel discomfort, nor did he feel like making him a laughingstock.
While he didn't feel sympathy, Laicanel found the clumsiness of the Easterners frustrating and painful to watch.
It was when she had finished farm work and come to the barn to put away the tools. Sheri, who had been depressed since morning, said with an urgent expression,
"Lucy, I'm scared."
Sheri's voice, which should have been familiar, was chillingly low.
"I've believed in the Tenshu-sama since I was little, but—I don't understand."
Sheri's fear was transmitted to Lucy. Lucy embraced Sheri. She felt as though she herself might be frightened.
"I don't understand, I'm scared."
"Sheri."
Lucy tightened her grip and didn't let her speak any further.
"Sheri, you didn't just simply believe in the Tenshu-sama. You were by the Tenshu-sama's side. You saw the Tenshu-sama up close,"
Lucy said.
"I've wanted to say this for a long time, so I'll say it now. You saw the form of the Tenshu-sama even in unremarkable scenes. I know it. You are a person who can look at the light of the Tenshu-sama without fearing that your eyes will be blinded."
"Lucy."
Lucy loosened her arms and released Sheri.
Sheri peered into Lucy's eyes with a pale face.
"Thank you, Lucy. Sorry for losing it. It's because I had a strange dream."
—A dream?
"Yes. But I don't remember what kind of dream. Everyone says they feel like they saw a dream. Lucy, what about you?"
"No. I didn't see one."
"You didn't?"
"No. Even if I did, it's just a dream, after all."
"That's true, but I think everyone is feeling something strange."
"When anxiety heightens, strange logic might prevail," Lucy said. "I'll ask Yufie and Rosary to create a logical explanation that dreams have no meaning. A proper one with theological grounds. I'll take that to talk with Chloe and make it an official announcement from the Representative."
"I understand."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah... somehow, I'm not scared anymore. It sounds silly, but I'm glad I could talk about it."
Lucy Alish could only return a smile.
Saying she hadn't seen a dream was a lie. Lucy had seen a dream where Siddim was enveloped in crimson flames. The one lighting the hellfire was not a Kosa person. It was Lucy. Lucy thought that she could not tell such a thing to anyone.
The topic of dreams ended as a temporary fad.
However, a few days later, Lucy remembered the dream she had seen.
Cavalry circled around the Euryas Convent. At first, there were only three riders. As if timing it with the evacuation of the elders of Fibril Village into the convent, groups of infantry seeped out from the forest.
The Kosa army had arrived. The Euryas Convent was surrounded by the enemy army. The city of Malfa must have been besieged as well. The sound of church bells ringing in the royal capital reached her faintly.
Euryas also rang its bell.
Looking down at the enemy soldiers from the bell tower, the Princess thought of the dream.
If it were possible, she wanted to burn away all the enemies with hellfire.
Geraha Wolf saw no dream at all.
'Great King!'
On the morning of the day everyone said they had seen a dream, old man Manam burst into Geraha's tent. The old man was talking about something complicated. It was a talk about magic.
'With all due respect, have you perhaps seen some kind of dream?'
'No, I have not.'
'Are you certain?'
Geraha nodded.
'I see, indeed.'
Old man Manam slapped his knee.
'Since the magic of dreams was scattered by borrowing the power of the King of Siddim. It likely had no effect on the Great King, who is of equal, no, higher rank than the King of Siddim. Your servant Manam is relieved that the Great King's sleep was not disturbed.'
Ho ho ho. The old man laughed and left the tent; that was all there was to it.
—However.
If one had to rely on things like magic, it would mean that this country had finally reached its limit. The talk of dreams was a good omen for Geraha.
However, when he finished preparations and moved his troops around the city of Malfa, the situation was different.
The main locations for setting up a siege formation were obtained with almost no resistance. That was unsettling for Geraha.
—Was I lured in?
The military city before him had a demonic expression. He felt a monster-like breathing.
Thinking about it, it was natural; the city of Malfa was looking down at him, full of fighting spirit.