Northern District. Somewhere underground.
A tall mirror appeared in the middle of the room.
Its surface brightened, briefly reflecting a space that did not belong behind it. Then a lavender-haired woman stepped through.
Flaure sat up in her chair.
The woman had her face.
Behind her, the mirror fractured into a thousand glittering pieces. They vanished before any could touch the floor.
Valery rose and bowed, his movements as precise as a soldier reporting for duty.
"Welcome back, Lady—"
"No."
She stopped him before the name could follow.
"Use Lady Black. In case someone is eavesdropping."
"My apologies, Lady Black."
He straightened.
"Now, what service did you have in mind for this duke? You asked me to remain with Lady Flaure."
For a moment, Lady Black did not answer.
Something unsettled passed across the borrowed face. Her lips pressed together; then her expression smoothed again.
"The brown-haired boy and the Lethward girl. How thoroughly did you remove that identity from their perception?"
"The death was perfectly convincing."
"Was it?" Lady Black replied
"I take it. But that is not all you wished to ask."
"I want you to observe and investigate someone."
She tossed several letters onto the table.
"He claims to belong to the Lethryniel family. Lucia Lethryniel."
Valery looked down at the papers.
"You saw him in the Mirror Dimension," she continued. "I don't know whether you had time to notice much."
"That man?" Flaure leaned forward. "The one who keeps sending me those weird letters?"
"Quiet for a moment, Flaure."
"O-okay…"
She settled back into her corner, drawing her hands together in her lap.
"Lethryniel," Valery repeated. "And he has been writing to Her Majesty?"
He unfolded the first letter.
His eyes moved steadily down the page, slowed, and returned to an earlier line.
He knows probably as much about the gods even more than I do.
Valery turned to the next letter.
And what exactly is this 'Ripple'?
"He is well informed," he said. "The surname sounds like something a noble house would use. But what makes it significant?"
"Lethryniel used to be Flaure's."
His fingers stopped on the paper.
"More than three hundred years ago," Lady Black said. "Before we changed it to Rosier."
Valery turned toward the woman in the corner.
Flaure's shoulders drew in under his attention.
"Um… all my relatives died during the war, three hundred years ago. He probably just found out somehow and thought using the name would make us notice him. So he could get in touch with us…"
"I see."
"Except he should not have been able to find out," Lady Black said.
She rested a hand against the edge of the table.
"I burned every record connected to our old identities. Mine and Flaure's. Everything from before our victory in the war. Except those few I allowed and made them into the history books. I remember doing it by hand."
"Could he be someone from your own time, Lady Black?"
"Impossible."
The answer came without hesitation.
"I remember nearly every god from that period. Our allies. The ones who caused us trouble. I could still name them now. I killed every god and demigod except Mivelle Veranthos and Veilnoir. I am quite certain of that."
"There is no way I let go of this man if he was in our time.."
"Perhaps one escaped and passed the information down to their descendants?" Valery asked.
"My identity, perhaps. There could be an old family somewhere in Orenthel who secretly hates me enough to talk and know about that identity. Atleast for few generation. But Flaure? No. During the war, they were all targeting me mostly. She was not the one they were concerned with."
Valery lowered the letter.
"A difficult investigation then.."
Lady Black folded her arms.
"There is more. He barely reacted to my presence. If anything, he behaved as though he wasn't afraid of my presence nor wanna challenge me."
Her gaze settled on the scattered letters.
"And he has a pseudo-divine signature like mine. Less concentrated, but remarkably natural. As though someone had built it into him."
"A pseudo-divine signature?"
"You know Flaure and I were ordinary humans once."
"Yes?"
"The signature I created is an imitation. I concentrate it in one part of my body until it matches a god's. But his…"
She paused, her brow tightening.
"I would swear it is artificial. Yet it circulates through his entire body, at roughly the intensity you would expect from a demigod."
Valery considered that.
"Hmm, let's say how about we rule out an ordinary noble family. Perhaps he belongs to a house with divine ancestry?"
He glanced down at the name again.
"Even allowing for a diluted bloodline, that would leave House Veilnoir. And there are only Claude and myself. So that is impossible as well."
"Exactly. It is as though he was shaped from childhood to have the properties of a demigod. His body is neither entirely human nor that of a true demigod."
Silence settled over the table.
Then Lady Black turned toward Flaure.
"…Which leaves one possibility."
"I really don't have any relatives left!?"
Flaure's hands lifted from her lap, as though she could fend off the suggestion before anyone put it into words.
Lady Black let out a long breath.
"And then there is Terminus."
Valery's expression grew more serious.
"He is a considerable problem. His strength and speed seemed almost comparable to yours."
"In terms of raw power, I have lots more advantage don't forget that. No one is anywhere near me."
Her fingers tightened against her sleeve.
"The greater problem is that he entered my Mirror Dimension. Both he and Lucia Lethryniel did."
"I thought only you and Lady Flaure could enter freely?"
"That is precisely what troubles me. How did they get in without permission from either of us?"
Valery waited.
She offered no answer.
"Then what would you have me do?" he asked.
Lady Black sighed again, more heavily this time.
"Terminus is beyond you. But this Lucia... keep an eye on him. If he shows promise, bring him over to our side. If he becomes a problem, I believe you can kill him and those friend of his."
Valery inclined his head.
"I will be away for a while," she continued. "I need a way to deal with Terminus, and more help. I am leaving the palace's affairs to you. Look after Flaure as well."
"But Claude is already there, isn't he?" Flaure said. "Besides, it's not as though I'm going to do anything—"
"Claude is the last person I would leave in charge!"
A small, displeased huff followed the words.
Valery's mouth curved slightly.
Lady Black noticed. She looked away.
"…I am sorry to trouble you, Valery."
"Not at all."
He gathered the letters into a neat stack.
"House Veilnoir has served you for more than three hundred years. You may rely on us."
Another mirror opened beside her.
Lady Black stepped through. The reflection lingered for a moment after she was gone, then the mirror broke apart and disappeared.
The facility's armory.
Evelyn and Fifth stood facing each other between the weapon racks.
There was a peculiar tension between them.
Most of it seemed to come from Evelyn.
"Are you here to get in my way?"
"Not at all. I would like to help you, Miss Fourth."
His smile was warm enough to make her narrow her eyes.
She watched him for another moment, then exhaled and crouched beside a low rack.
"Fine. What is your name?"
"We should just remember each other by number?"
"It would make talking to you easier."
He hesitated.
"Sift," he said at last. "Rhymes with Fifth, doesn't it? Ha."
Evelyn gave him a flat look.
"That was awful. Did they make you Fifth because your name rhymes?"
"No. You know how the Palace Affairs special operatives are ranked."
"…I don't?"
A bead of sweat slipped down her temple. She kept her voice firm and reached to inspect another sword.
Sift blinked.
"When you apply to Palace Affairs, there is a physical assessment and a written examination, correct? Each accounts for half your result."
"Uh-huh. And?"
"When they select the special operatives, the weighting changes. Seventy percent comes from the written score. Thirty percent from physical ability."
Her hand stopped over the rack.
"…So Claude is smarter than me? Or just because he is Veilnoir?"
"I wouldn't know."
She looked back at the swords.
"Why put more weight on the exam than strength?"
"I don't quite understand the reasoning myself."
"Really? I thought you'd know who supposedly came up with this system better than I do."
"If you mean the person we are both thinking of, I suspect even Captain Claude only learned about her just now as well. I certainly did."
"You did?"
"While I was waiting for your meeting to finish. I was eavedropping in."
He said it quite cheerfully.
Then a shiver passed through him.
"I can still remember how it felt. I was using my catalyst's listening function, and the signal was cut off. Just like that."
His smile had thinned.
"It felt as though someone with a very, very unpleasant stare had caught me in the act."
"Right. Sure."
Evelyn was already looking down again.
Her gaze lingered on her at the sheated katana at her hips.
Sift followed it.
"A blade like that is too much of a compromise for the Eastern front."
"Leave it alone. That was my mother's sword."
"Only a suggestion."
He lifted both hands, palms open.
"You can keep it, of course. But I would advise against taking it into this battle. I have seen what is happening out there myself too. We cannot beat those swarm with just swiftness of that kind of sword."
He slid the toe of his boot beneath a much longer, sheathed sword.
A flick lifted it from the rack. A second motion sent it turning upward, and he caught it neatly across both hands.
An odachi.
He offered it to her.
"An eastern design. Greater reach, heavier blows, difficult to deal with. From somewhere near your homeland, I believe. And you do seem to favor that country's swords, Miss Lan."
Evelyn eyed the weapon.
"Although…"
Sift's attention drifted from the sword to her face.
"Weren't you born in Hengjin? Why the fondness for Mizuho's weapons?"
He brought a finger to his chin.
"Mizuho and Hengjin fought some rather bitter wars, didn't they? Yet you seem fairly neutral. If we go by their history—"
"Well let's say half still felt unfavorable about eachother but we are not killing eachother now alright?"
Evelyn stood.
"But they're both major economies of eastern. People have reasons to cross the border besides killing each other."
Sift lowered his hand from his chin.
"My mother was from Mizuho. She went to Hengjin to do business with my father. One thing led to another, and here I am."
She shrugged.
"So I suppose I've always felt… somewhere in the middle I think."
Her fingers closed around the odachi's sheath.
"But if I have to choose, Mizuho's weapons do fit more when a woman is holding one."
Sift smiled again and let her take its weight.
She shifted her grip, measuring the sword's length against her own reach.
"…Fine. I'll try it."
Then she looked up.
"What do you use?"
"A scythe."
"Hm."
For a moment, she seemed to be considering a reply.
Then she simply adjusted the sword in her hands and turned toward the door.
11:00 a.m. The wall between the Central and Eastern Districts.
The wind struck Evelyn as she reached the top.
She took another step toward the parapet.
Then stopped.
From this height, she should have been able to trace the Eastern District's outer wall across the distance. Its towers. Its defenses. The line that had stood between the district and everything pressing against it.
The wall had been torn apart.
There was no front line left now.
Evelyn searched farther in.
Along the river, a defensive positions still held. A rather large groups crowded behind whatever cover they had found, fighting so fiercely that she could see the flashes even from here.
Every time one cluster tried to fall back, the fighting closed around it again.
They were holding because there was nowhere to go.
Her fingers tightened around the odachi.
"Oh, shit…"
Sift came to stand beside her.
He looked out over the district. Then his hand settled on her shoulder.
"Let's go, Miss Lan."