“Why am I being held?” a man wearing a heavy cloak protested, forced to kneel by those nearby.

Two weapons of gleaming white bone pointed at his neck, wielded by towering pale-skinned elves. They bore a black sash on their shoulder displaying a sunburst, with the rays of its sun replaced by the golden snake of House Vasquer. They did not answer him, and the people passing through the gate to Blackgard were held up by several soldiers as the conflict was dealt with. The refugees watched the situation largely in concern for their own safety.

The man protested and squirmed, but the blades wielded by the Veidimen were as immovable as a mountain. Soon enough, a new party of knights arrived. Leading them was a golden-armored knight with a long black braid descending from the back of his helmet, and the people muttered his name—Prince Orion, the vice-commander of the king’s royal guard.

Prince Orion escorted a tall woman with elegant bearing, wearing the black and gold of her husband’s kingdom. People recognized her, too, perhaps even more so than the knight. She was the queen regent, Anneliese. Some of the more reverential refugees knelt to her, but she single-mindedly walked to the man.

The queen regent sized the man up with her amber eyes, then nodded. “Well done. He’s a spy.”

Hearing those words, both the Veidimen and the man deemed spy moved at the same time. He cast a B-rank spell, disentangling himself from them, then called upon the Blessing of Supersession. His being was vested with the power offered by Erlebnis, and he called upon high-caliber magic which he directed toward the queen.

Prince Orion stepped forth to defend the queen regent with a shield that seemed to be made of a dragon’s skull, but she moved past him. She effortlessly contained the countless spells with a single ward. Some of the jewelry she wore resonated with divine power and strengthened her magic. He changed targets from her to the crowd, yet she reacted faster, containing him in a sphere of warding magic.

Isolated and neutralized, the spy grit his teeth and cast a spell with fear in his eyes. His body shifted and contorted, and then exploded into spikes of gruesome blood that propelled outward with alarming speed. Queen Anneliese’s ward was stronger, though. It did not show even a crack. She turned away from the sight with disappointment in her eyes, but then faced the crowd.

“The trouble is over, my people.” Her eyes slowly scanned the crowd, as if looking into the heart of each of them. “You will be in Blackgard soon. People like that can never get past this checkpoint.” She looked at the royal guard. “As I said, you did well. Ensure no one will be hurt.”

The guards knelt. “Yes, Your Highness.”

With a single nod, she left them all, exiting the checkpoint. Orion followed right after her, watching carefully.

Princess Elenore’s voice entered Anneliese’s head, carried by the blessing of the goddess of connections, Lira. “Is it done?”

death like all the rest. Better he chose it when I came rather than when he was suspected, but our luck can only last so long. My magic is enhanced by the divine artifacts we stole from Erlebnis’ vault, but it strains against their

of Order persists, protecting this place. We would know at once if any who entered Blackgard had hostile intent,” Elenore reminded

cannot fathom where Erlebnis gets this many people willing to die

care to know,” Elenore answered. “Even if we did manage to capture one of them alive, I doubt they’d yield anything useful. Erlebnis likes keeping knowledge, not giving it to his underlings.

“Have you forgotten how we speak

to the parliamentary hall. Durran will be

begrudgingly. “See

now, until he returns,” Elenore said consolingly. “Chin

livestock feeding on ground unpolluted by magic… in perhaps a year, this meadow valley had become a rival to the grandest cities on

nations, bearing strange titles, strange weaponry, and strange customs. The conflict for the fate of the world had begun, and like a frog slowly boiled, they hardly

allies of their own—like Lira, Yinther, or Law. There was Rook and Raccomen, divine brothers, Almazora and Veid, one a goddess of magic and the other a goddess of the Veidimen. Their

artifacts wrested away. But soon, another harvest would be ready. Namely, knowledge of the

to the entrance of Blackgard’s parliamentary hall. Melanie stood there, and waved at Anneliese. The red-headed countess stepped up with her mercenary swagger, carrying a black executioner’s blade

divine envoys are ready to join you whenever,” Melanie explained, a faint smile about her scarred face. “We’re supposed to ‘wow’ the dwarves, right? I think this’ll do

hope so. Let me channel Argrave

#####

Elenore, watching

which way he desired—had Argrave’s chest split open, many of his organs sprawled out across the table next to him. The Alchemist worked at extracting a malignant-looking black magic thread from Argrave’s body piece

“Are you really asking your sister for a visual image? I’m

I’m trying to help even still… well, it doesn’t matter. Give her

worked. On Earth, he’d often heard about solitary confinement being torture. This was rather like solitary confinement with a phone, and front-row seats to an extremely gruesome operating theater that had daily

very dull and stagnant experience. And hearing of what had happened in the month that he’d been absent had only been more difficult. It was like having someone

been largely good,

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