The journey to the imperial capital Eden was anything but comfortable.
Of course it wasn’t.
There were no escort soldiers, no one to attend to them.
On top of that, every time they stopped in a city for supplies or a brief rest, they were met with subtle discrimination and disapproving stares directed at the unfamiliar outsiders and beastmen.
In Mosul they had settled down long enough to forget such things…
Tenok looked at his companions, who had all grown much gaunter than before.
It wasn’t simply from lack of food.
Everyone’s nerves were frayed; they were exhausted.
Arriving at the imperial capital Eden without major incident in the midst of all this was only possible because Sir Morik was with them.
As they had agreed beforehand, acting as the old knight’s slave, servant, or simply as mercenaries (their original profession) allowed most situations to pass smoothly.
“You’ve all been through a lot.
We will now go to meet His Majesty the Emperor…
Tenok, I would like you to come with me.”
Morik said.
Tenok stared at the old knight seated across the table.
His beard was unkempt, like a weed-choked field in midsummer, and his body, worn from the journey, was skeletal.
No one would believe it if someone called this old man a knight.
The cat beastman silently tapped the shoulder of Perdual, who had his face buried in his plate, focused on eating.
“Perdual, you?”
“I’ll pass. With neither the captain nor Paramir here, you’re our leader now.”
“Good. We’ll go tomorrow. If the guards let us in, that is…”
After the meal, Tenok and Morik prayed.
To their gods.
If Barhan and Elon were watching over them now… please help us.
Please return the peaceful daily life that had been shattered by the horrors occurring in Mosul.
Perhaps the heavenly gods took pity on them.
Morik and Tenok were not seized and driven away by the palace guards.
The guards, clad in gleaming armor that looked gold-plated, actually welcomed them.
“You’re from Mosul? We’ve been expecting you. This way, please.”
“…?”
“…??”
Is this really okay?
The palace guards treated them with utmost courtesy.
Was luck finally on their side, even if belatedly?
With that thought, the old human knight and the young beastman mercenary walked down a long corridor.
If the guards abandoned them here, they would become utterly lost; the maze-like passages twisted endlessly.
…Just how far does this go?
Anxiety began to creep in when, at last, the end of the stifling corridor appeared.
They stood before a golden building bathed in sunlight.
“This is the Temple of Elon. Lady Natalia should be inside.
As she said, you have come. It truly is unbelievable…”
With those words, the guard vanished back into the long, labyrinthine corridor, as though swallowed by a giant serpent.
The young mercenary and the old knight stared at each other in stunned silence, then entered the golden Temple of Elon as if bewitched.
Unlike the temples in Mosul, this one had no steps; it was built directly on flat ground.
“Are temples of the Elon sect normally built painted in gold like this? They weren’t in Mosul, right?”
“I don’t know either. I didn’t even know a temple like this existed in the imperial palace…
It might be a place for the highborn. Be careful with your words and actions, just in case.”
“We’re already inside the palace, aren’t we? I’ve been careful from the start.”
“…You’re right.”
They walked down the corridor once more.
This time it was not long or complicated.
They proceeded down a straight red carpet with humble but not servile posture.
Yet their eyes kept drifting to the realistic landscape paintings on the walls, portraits of people they had never seen, and the equipment once worn by priests of special rank like Priest Moriah.
Those items were securely chained and hung on the walls.
The armor, maces, long polearms, and several spears lined up side by side were not new.
They bore the marks of human hands.
Two men who had worn armor themselves and polished their own weapons every day recognized it instantly.
As they walked, the paintings on the walls gradually told a different story.
At first they depicted a woman and a young man sitting affectionately in a windswept meadow.
Soon fire spread, and the two were torn apart.
The young man took up a sword; the woman fled into the distance.
The fire grew, and the sky filled with black ash and smoke, carrying the stench of death down to their feet.
Beyond the black ash and murky fog, horrific things marched forward, their ominous green eyes glowing.
Now they were no longer merely walking the corridor; they were absorbed in the story told by the paintings, in the fate of the young man who raised his sword against the approaching legion of death—the Demon King’s Army, enemy of the Human Empire.
The campfire died, black fog descended, and the young man charged alone into the blazing inferno…
“Welcome, both of you. I have been waiting.”
Natalia said.
Her greeting rang in their minds like a bell, snapping the old knight and the young mercenary out of the illusion.
This is…
An illusion? Everything we just saw…!
They found themselves lying in beds, looking at each other.
Since when…? Since when had they been inside the illusion, lying here?
They wanted to ask, wanted answers, but everything was confused and impossible to grasp.
A faint dizziness tormented them.
Could they even be certain that this awakening wasn’t still part of an illusion or dream?
Doubts piled upon doubts.
To the bewildered Tenok and Morik, Natalia approached with a gentle smile.
Her neat priestly robes of the Elon sect were common even in Mosul, yet what she wore seemed somehow special.
Or perhaps she herself was special.
“Don’t be too alarmed.
That was… a little joke left by the one who helped build this temple.
There’s no need to take it too seriously.
I am Natalia. You must be thirsty. Would you like some water?”
“…Thank you.”
As if entranced, Morik accepted water from the woman who had introduced herself as Natalia and drank.
The coolness cleared his mind, and the old knight shot up from the bed, hastily scanning his surroundings.
Soft, expensive-looking slippers lay on the floor.
Good heavens, was this the heavenly realm where Elon resided?
Natalia shook her head as if reading the old knight’s thoughts.
“It’s still the mortal world.
Like you, I came from Mosul. Only a few days earlier.
Elon protected me. Strictly speaking, He didn’t help directly… but that’s how the gods watch over us.”
“Elon? From Mosul? No one left the city after I did.”
“There was another path.
I’ve heard about you several times, Sir Morik. Priest Moriah said you were someone he trusted.”
“Wait—just a moment! You know everything? Then why are you here… no, more importantly, we came from Mosul—”
“It’s all right.
Mosul will return to the Mosul we know. You can believe that.”
“What do you—”
“Natalia speaks the truth.
Mosul will return to the embrace of His Majesty the Emperor and the Human Empire.”
A voice came from the darkness… unfamiliar?
No.
Tenok suddenly realized the voice hidden in the shadows was not unfamiliar at all.
It was achingly familiar.
Yet the tone was utterly solemn, unlike its original owner.
His heart pounded.
A forest after sunset. A blazing campfire.
More than twenty Black Tails gathered around it.
And, and, and…
“You are…”
“Lord Elon… what am I seeing…?”
“There is no need to be shocked.
I am a different existence from the one you are thinking of.”
He looked exactly the same.
Not merely similar.
The old knight and the young beastman mercenary froze in their seated positions on the beds.
“The traitor, the former Margrave of Mosul, will be executed. By my sword.”
A young knight with a face identical to Paramir’s stepped out of the darkness.
***
“W-will it… be all right…?”
Annabella curled into a ball inside her blankets like a pill bug.
A whispering voice from the far side of the darkness burrowed into her ears.
The princess trembled and nodded.
That one—the goddess of night, shadows, and lies, Nyx—had never once lied to Annabella.
At least not to her.
Annabella knew what she was.
She was the proxy of the goddess of night whom her family—more precisely, her mother—had served.
She had not been taught or guided by parents, adults, or teachers.
A follower of That One.
A medium to help That One descend to the earth.
That was the meaning of Annabella’s existence as she understood it.
“I-I understand… I’ll do as you say…”
“Good girl, Annabella. My child.”
At the goddess’s voice, the princess shivered lightly.
Nyx’s voice resembled her mother’s.
Whether she had forgotten her mother’s voice because it had been too long since she died, or whether Nyx’s voice had overwritten it, she did not know.
In truth, it didn’t matter.
Nyx was Annabella’s only friend and the only god she could trust and rely on.
Even if that being could not hold her hand or share tea in the same physical space.
“Hey! What are you doing!”
“Kyaa!”
Annabella screamed outright.
Flap!
The blanket that had shielded and isolated her from the outside world fell away.
The First Prince.
Her elder brother Redron had burst in.
“I-I’m cold…”
“Cold my foot. It’s already noon. I told you to be ready by the appointed time, and you’re still lazing in bed? I must be crazy. Hurry up, change, and get ready to leave.”
“L-leave…? Where…?”
“You don’t mean—”
Redron’s face twisted in disbelief.
Looking at him, Annabella suddenly remembered the promise she had made yesterday with her brother and Jasmine.
Ah…! Right, we promised…!
“Ten minutes. If you’re not out, I’m leaving without you. No waiting. One second late and we go.”
“I-I’m coming! Just wait a little—”
“If you really want to go, move fast! Maids!”
“Kyaa!”
Under Redron’s watchful eye, the maids sprang into frantic motion.
They dressed her, combed her hair, applied makeup; the shut-in who had spent the entire morning curled up in her room like a pill bug was transformed into a proper person by the time the sun was high overhead.
“Well, at least you look decent when you’re dressed up.”
Redron boarded the carriage, marveling at the completely changed Annabella who no longer seemed like the same person.
He had no intention of escorting her, but he couldn’t very well let her trip over the long hem of her dress.
What a troublesome little sister… Redron grumbled inwardly.
“Th-thank you… O-Oppa…”
“You even forgot our promise. You’re giving me a headache.”
“I-I’m sorry… I forgot…”
“Fine. We’re getting married anyway; I don’t want to keep nagging till the end.
…And please, for the love of everything, stop shaking! People will think I’m bullying you!”
Pfft.
Jasmine, watching this perfectly sibling-like scene, couldn’t hold back her laughter.
Realizing she was being watched, Redron flushed and cleared his throat dramatically—ahem, ahem!—trying to act dignified, but it was too late.
Jasmine slid closer to the embarrassed Redron and gently stroked the back of his hand.
“O-Oppa… your face is red…”
“…Shut up. Keep that up and I won’t buy you any presents.”
“Th-thank you… Oppa…!”
The carriage sped toward the luxury boutiques.