Chapter 94

Iberin looked down at Rozelia.

Rozelia was still unstable, still young.

She might be the child destined to become the Saintess, but pushing her out front was too dangerous.

"Is there something you want to say to me lately?"

"Hm?"

"You keep looking over here. Did I do something wrong?"

Rozelia stole a glance at her, gauging the mood.

She couldn't think of anything she'd done wrong, but the steady attention had clearly been getting to her.

"It's not that. I was just worried about you, Rozel."

"That's all?"

Only then did her face lift a little.

"Mommy, what about Ether?"

"I'm worried about Ether too, of course."

"But you weren't looking at Ether."

The instant Ether put on his best wounded face, Rozelia practically puffed up with vindication.

Kal watched her and looked thoroughly unimpressed.

The pattern never seemed to change, and a laugh slipped out of her before she could help it.

"Why are you laughing all of a sudden?"

"Because the three of you bicker, which means you get along."

"Us?"

"We weren't bickering."

"We're not even friends!"

"I've heard if you're really not friends, you can't actually come out and say you're not friends."

"Who says? Rozel can!"

"…"

Rozelia, in particular, sounded entirely capable of it, so she had no comeback.

"Anyway — I worry about all of you, so don't fight over things like that. Mommy's sorry."

"No. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Ether, you're the one who started this!"

"Ether was in the wrong. Hurry up and apologize."

"Sorry, mommy."

"How does it land on him?"

"I think Ether did do something wrong."

"He didn't, it's not his fault."

"Really?"

"Mm-hm. Let's just say nobody was in the wrong."

"Okay then."

Ether had been pouting; only then did he smile.

"But we've got the Grand Duke, so we don't need to worry, right?"

"For now, yes."

"For now?"

"Everyone's in danger, so there's no telling how things will go from here."

"But Rozel's staying with Lady Iberin! Because Lady Iberin needs Rozel!"

She must have been afraid she'd be told to stay with Lyssel because it was safer — Rozelia jumped in fast.

"Ether too! Ether's gonna protect mommy!"

"Same. I'd rather stay with Lady Iberin."

It was sweet of them, choosing to stay with the one who'd fall behind first the moment a fight broke out, but without Lyssel they'd all just die together.

If they wanted to live, they needed Lyssel, no question.

Most of all —

"Lyssel would cry if he heard that, you know."

"Cry?"

Ether's eyes went wide with disbelief.

Kal's face went flat. Repulsed, like he couldn't even picture it.

"I wanna see again!"

Rozelia, meanwhile, broke into delighted giggles.

Even Iberin couldn't quite imagine Lyssel crying.

"Wait — again?"

"He cried so much last time, when you got hurt."

"Wow."

She'd known he'd been worried, but the idea that he'd actually cried had never occurred to her.

By the time she'd come around enough time had passed that there hadn't been a trace of it on him.

"Maybe I should ask him to cry."

"Hee."

Everyone had apparently seen it; she was the one left out, and now she wanted to see Lyssel cry too.

Lyssel himself would probably hate to hear it.

Tears didn't come on demand, after all.

---

While Lyssel was fighting it out alone in the Forest of the World Tree, the emperor was stuck — unable to act and unable to wait.

If Lyssel went west, that would be a major asset, but it would mean the south — the empire's grain belt — would collapse.

And if monsters poured out of the Forest of the World Tree on top of all that, Aleta wouldn't be able to hold it together at all.

"What in the world am I supposed to do."

"For now, I believe the right call is leaving the southern region to House Lecashe."

"Who doesn't know that?"

"No — I'm not saying suggest he hold it implicitly, I'm saying give him an actual position. Otherwise the surrounding nobles won't rally to him."

That was Duke Cherity.

The phrase rally to the Grand Duke didn't sit well with the emperor, but he didn't have a sharper option either.

"The southern nobles will want Lecashe to take the commander's post too. Nobody else is that strong."

"True enough. Although a little while ago, the Grand Duke—"

One of the nobles who'd witnessed the day Lyssel had come to the emperor began carefully, but the emperor shut him down.

"Enough — not in here!"

"My — my apologies."

"Right now we have a national crisis. The Grand Duke Lecashe is not so irresponsible a man as that."

"Yes, yes. Of course not."

It galled him, but in the current situation, what Duke Cherity had said was the best command the emperor could give.

The man had said he'd hand back his title — there was reason to worry he might dream of revolt — but if it came to it, there was always Iberin.

With his foot on the fire, the emperor was prepared to play every card he held.

"Fine. Send a letter to Lecashe. Tell him I'll be sending people south. But not as commander."

The moment the emperor spoke, Cherity pushed back.

"No, Your Majesty. Give the Grand Duke the post of southern commander."

"What?"

"Whom would you send?"

"…You."

He had nothing but nobles who knew how to game the rules; not one of them was trustworthy.

It chafed, but he couldn't deny Cherity was the most capable among them.

"No, I need to go west. That's the efficient deployment. Why send a strong knight the long way round?"

He hesitated over the idea of giving Lecashe a position that large in its current state.

After Lyssel, the next-strongest piece on the board was Cherity.

The catch was that Cherity wasn't a man the emperor could trust.

What's he angling for?

The emperor couldn't shake the feeling that Cherity was running him.

He couldn't read the man at all.

He narrowed his eyes at him, but there was no other workable option.

Maybe send Lecashe west instead.

Except the ticking-bomb territory was the south, not the west, so he couldn't carelessly pull Lecashe away.

"Your Majesty, you must appoint the Grand Duke Lecashe as commander."

"Hh. Do it."

There was no way around it.

"Understood. Once the west is settled, I'll move south as well."

"Did you stash honey down there?"

"It's a feeling. Just a feeling that the south can't be allowed to fall."

The instincts of a duke from House Cherity — the holy house — weren't easy to brush off.

How was the south, with Lecashe in it, going to fall, of all places? But the emperor had to grit his teeth and consent.

---

The imperial edict spread across the south.

Hold the Forest of the World Tree.

Lyssel received the order to that effect, and the messenger the emperor had sent conferred the commander's post on him in shortened form.

It was a relief, at least, that he wasn't being sent far away.

He'd been bracing for the worst — that the emperor might lose his mind and send Lyssel west.

Apparently the man wasn't that far gone.

"What now? You're a commander."

"We gather."

After the Forest of the World Tree, the area in the south taking the worst damage was the Argan region.

"Where?"

"Here."

The Forest of the World Tree was the most dangerous spot anyway, so the other nobles wouldn't really have a choice.

The Argan region, though — hit so hard in the south — he intended to leave out of the muster point.

For everywhere else, the plan was to assemble at Lecashe first, then split off a force to send to Argan after consulting with the other nobles.

"And if something goes wrong while I'm away, who's looking after Iberin?"

"Hm?"

"Sorry to put it like this, but Iberin matters most to me."

That didn't mean he could drag Iberin around a place that was effectively a battlefield.

"Right. Lady Iberin's safety is our first priority."

When Pons jumped in agreement out of nowhere, Iberin felt a little incredulous.

On top of which, everyone else's faces said they were quietly nodding along.

"I haven't said anything, you know."

"You're a soft touch, Lady Iberin, so we worry."

"Even so, I put myself first too!"

"Then that's a relief."

"Being soft isn't the same as picking the muster point. We can't let this place be breached. And honestly, the Lecashe residents come before the other ones for me too. Pons and Rotte are in that group. And without Lyssel, nowhere's more dangerous than right here."

It was an unkind thing to say about the other commoners, but it was honest.

There was no way to avoid casualties entirely — the most they could do was minimize the damage.

And minimizing the damage meant Lyssel had to be here.

"What do you all take me for."

"My apologies."

When Iberin glared at Pons with a sulky face, he fell all over himself, not knowing what to do.

Pons signaled to Rotte for backup, but she only avoided his eyes and muttered,

"The head butler was in the wrong."

"He was."

Lyssel chimed in.

"In the end, we walk through life alone. Yes, indeed. I overstepped, that's the long and the short of it…"

Pons muttered it like a man with no friends left in the world, and bowed his head.

Iberin, who'd been faking the pout, and Rotte, and Lyssel — all of them burst out laughing.

---

The nobles who'd received the letter began trickling into Lecashe one by one.

It hadn't been long since they'd parted, but Captain Esmore, Captain Pigret, and the knights they'd led arrived again.

"I'm not sure whether I should say I'm happy to see you again so soon…"

Watching the knights' complicated expressions, Lyssel said it dryly.

"Let's work toward parting on a smile next time."

"Hah. That'd do nicely."

"It's been a while, Your Highness."

"Lady Bilson didn't come with you?"

"My daughter chose to stay at the estate. Someone has to remain and protect our people."

"I see."

"Yes. The monsters haven't reached our territory yet, though."

The marquis's face was troubled.

Lady Bilson was his sole heir, his only daughter.

She had wanted to come along, but in the end she chose to stay behind of her own will.

As her father, he had wanted to talk her out of it — yet he was a Marquis.

If there were privileges to being a noble, there were also duties that came with them.

So he'd come to Lecashe alone.

"I intend to do everything I can to hold back the monsters. To keep the damage down. So I leave the rest in your hands, Your Highness."

"I'll do my part."

It wasn't only the marquis taking that vow.

Most of them, like Bilson, had left family behind.

That was why the sense of mission to end this at Lecashe was burning so high.

For the families they loved, and for their people too.

The first council meeting opened in that hardened resolve.