Epilogue

Epilogue

 

“YOU LAID THIS TRAP FOR ME, Luxion!” Leon’s voice echoed through the manor, and Luxion watched it all from the safety of a monitor screen.

“Master, I believe you said before that it’s one’s own fault if they fall for a trap. That applies perfectly to this situation as well.”

Luxion was floating on top of the Einhorn’s deck, Cleare floating directly across from him.

“You’re no less cruel than he is,” she said.

“You think so?”

Luxion had ordered her not to share any details with the girls when she returned. One might wonder: Why would he do such a thing? Well, that was entirely Leon’s fault.

“All’s well that ends well, as the humans say. Had I not intervened, Master seemed content to let the Sacred Tree Sapling slip through his fingers. That is a most valuable sample.”

Cleare couldn’t argue with that. “I agree,” she said. “But the fact that you engineered this misunderstanding simply so you could drag it back home to the kingdom makes you a demon.”

“Both Master and Noelle intended to keep their feelings hidden. I see nothing wrong with my methods. Master will be all the happier for it in the end, and we will have this precious sample close at hand so we can properly investigate it.”

Luxion showed Cleare the data he had already discerned—information he’d gathered while he’d been in the republic. He hadn’t yet informed Leon, but he’d identified something particularly suspicious beneath the base of the Sacred Tree. Yet even with all of his technology, Luxion couldn’t conduct any further research on it.

“It’s rare that you’re unable to look into something,” said Cleare.

“I suspect it’s the ruins of a military base created by the old humans. It’s possible the Sacred Tree might have grown over it.”

“Oh, seriously? One of our companions might be locked inside, then.”

“Yes. Furthermore, the Sacred Tree appears to be incomplete.”

“Hm, I think I’m starting to see the bigger picture.”

Their discussion was still pure speculation at this stage, but they suspected the tree was an artificial creation. Cleare found the topic most fascinating.

“Hard to believe we may have had an old human base lurking under us this whole time. Now that I think about it, a tree with a will of its own that extends blessings to humans—that certainly doesn’t seem like something that would occur naturally.”

It was all too convenient, for one thing.

“But what do you mean about it being incomplete?” Cleare asked.

“The reason saplings wilt and die is because the Sacred Tree fails to provide the magical energy they need to grow. These saplings crop up with some frequency only to wilt and fade away—because the Sacred Tree kills them off.”

“That’s true. That is unnatural behavior for a plant. Although since it has such a long life, maybe it’s pruning them, waiting for a strong offspring to come along to nurture?”

“When Loic and Master were locked in battle, I detected evidence that suggested the Sacred Tree had intentionally aligned itself with Loic. It was almost as if it was trying to give him power because it wanted to destroy its sapling’s protector.”

Cleare analyzed the data he had gathered during the incident as she asked, “Are you sure he didn’t just make an oath to the tree that allowed him to used the observed amount of power?”

“There was no such reaction to indicate as much.”

The Sacred Tree brought great blessings to its people, but it had one key flaw that set it apart from other living things: It didn’t seek to increase the population of its species, instead actively obstructing its own propagation. Why would it do such a thing? Neither Luxion nor Cleare could come up with an easy explanation, and that only fueled Cleare’s interest.

“It absorbs magical energy to fuel its growth… From the standpoint of the old humans, that would be a convenient trait, since it would decrease the density of atmospheric mana. That makes me wonder—did they actually leave it behind?”

“Impossible to say as of now.”

That lack of surety was precisely why Luxion was so anxious to keep the sapling close. He also wanted to investigate the Priestess—that was, Noelle. To that end, he considered it ideal to have both remain close to Leon.

“Aren’t you using Master, in that case?” asked Cleare.

“What would make you think that?”

“You sure made a mess of things just so you could look into the sapling more.”

“Oh? I simply thought that if Angie knew of their circumstances, the chances of her inviting Noelle back to the kingdom would increase. That would reduce Master’s concerns as well, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah, well, right now, said Master is in some serious trouble.”

On screen, Leon was still screaming. He was struggling with the girls, having been backed into a corner with nowhere else to run.

“Luxion, you bastard! You’ll pay for this, I swear! Wait… No, I don’t mean you girls! No, I’m not blaming him for not helping me hide things from you. That’s not it. He’s the one who knew you were coming beforehand and—what? If I’d known sooner, you think I would have hidden the evidence? N-no! Somebody help! I don’t even care if it’s Cleare!”

Irked at this last condescension, Cleare felt no obligation to intervene on his behalf. “How heartless! Humph! I hope they give you an earful.”

“I must agree. He needs to take a long, hard look at himself.”

The two robots derived far too much enjoyment from their master’s suffering.

After watching from the sidelines for a bit, Cleare finally turned to Luxion. “Oh, that’s right. Did you look into what happened with you-know-what?”

“I have no evidence yet, but I believe my suspicions are correct.”

Cleare was referring to how House Rault had managed to beat House Lespinasse. The latter had supposedly borne a more powerful crest, so Luxion wondered how they could have possibly lost to their inferiors. Thus, he had elected to investigate.

“You see, I suspect both the Priestess and Guardian lost their crests prior to the attack by House Rault,” said Luxion.

 

***

 

Back in Holfort Kingdom, at the palace, King Roland was parked at his desk. Dark, heavy circles lay under his eyes, and he’d fallen asleep at some point, leaving a trail of drool on the documents beneath him. When he woke, he quickly wiped his chin before cursing under his breath.

“That damn brat. This is turning into his daily routine!”

Right when he thought they’d finally tied up the last incident, the officials they’d sent before the second term suddenly rushed back to Holfort. Their reason? “Earl Bartfort started a fight with House Barielle!”

House Barielle was one of the most powerful families in the Alzer Republic. According to the report, Leon had metaphorically kicked the hornets’ nest, but no sooner had they gotten word than another dignitary arrived with an official apology from House Barielle and the republic.

What in the world was happening over there? Roland couldn’t even begin to imagine. There was one thing, however, that he did know. He clutched his head in his hands. He could already picture Leon, grinning like an idiot, mocking him. Leon—who had in recent days given Roland endless grief.

“Damn hiiiim! All I can see is that annoying, smirking face—it doesn’t matter if I’m asleep or awake. Why do I have to drown in all this anxiety because of that buffoon?! He’s going to regret this. I swear I’ll make him pay.”

No one had ever made Roland squirm like Leon had. Even while he was far away in a foreign country, he remained a thorn in Roland’s side. The king couldn’t let such an affront slide.

“I want to see that stupid grin contort into despair! How can I do it? What could I do that he would absolutely hate?”

Promoting him again wasn’t going to be enough. There had to be something more. Roland racked his brain, striving to think of something he could do to make Leon truly writhe in agony.

“You’re going to get yours, you brat! I swear I’ll have my revenge!”