His majesty wasn't alone. On the left side of the throne was a tall male knight decked out in a sleek suit of armor, a long, sky-blue cape over his shoulder. A gallant warrior in his twenties. His left hand rested on top of a strong tower shield that stood on the floor in front of him. Upon the shield was inlaid a stylized golden image of a ram’s head with its curved horns.

  That knight was one of the Seven Heroes, Sir Romero, the Wall of Calidea, wielder of the sacred relic Bastion. I’d never seen how he fought, but they said that as long as Sir Romero was at his majesty’s side, the Kingsguard was as good as jobless. The knight was as if a small castle on two feet, as flimsy as his frame appeared next to the burly King.

  But even if nobody else was needed, Sir Romero wasn’t the only guard present.

  On the right side of the throne stood a plain female knight in an undecorated Kingsguard uniform, consisting of a dull-white coat with two long rows of golden buttons; on her feet, long armored boots with thick heels; hands bare, only a standard-issue short sword sheathed at the hip. She didn’t wear the ceremonial, winged helmet, her head bare, the wheaty locks roughly cut short at chin-length.

  With some lag, I realized she wasn't any ordinary knight, but Lauriel, the third princess.

  The King didn’t hold the same barbaric expectations for his daughters as he did for his sons, but Princess Lauriel didn’t seem content with that. For reasons I couldn't compute, she had given up the clean life of a high-class lady, and took on the role of a mere guard in the castle, dressing as a man and subjecting herself to self-abusing daily training. But far be it from me to judge the choices of others.

  I went to stand in front of the long stairs to the throne and met the King’s expressionless stare.

  Damn. I hated groveling, but guess I had to, in this case. I reluctantly lowered my right knee to the carpet and placed down the left hand knuckles.

  “Your majesty. Your servant has arrived in answer to your summons.”

  “XA,” the King spoke, his voice resonating from the depths of his chest. “Nay, it was ‘Hope’ these days, yes? Bearing a human form and now a human name, with no one left to hold your hand, does that mean you are a completed piece of work? I sometimes wonder, what does being human even mean to an existence like you?”

  Was it a question? Was I dragged all this way to talk about philosophy?

  The following silence seemed to ask for input, so I gave the question the barest minimum of thought and said,

  “I believe every person is freed of the burden of having to ponder their own existence. Since, no matter what answer we come to, after however long, it's always others who get the last word, when we are no more.”

  And I’m human, you damn lion man.

  “Hm,” he snorted. “What an unexpectedly fatalistic view. So very like you mages. Even as formidable as you are, you would present to be no more but a humble speck of cosmic dust. But if defining our legacy is up to those we leave behind, then we must sear such an impression onto their minds, with such a blazing clarity, that it leaves not the slightest chance of erring. That is how the victorious mind works. Your form may have matured, but I see your spirit is still only halfway to adulthood.”

  “If you say so, your majesty.”

  It was better not to talk back to lunatics.

  “No matter. I have been told you have learned something regarding the imperialists’ plot against our land. I want to hear it in your own words, not paraphrased by the sycophants. Speak and spare no detail.”

  I thought it was too early for a formal hearing, but since his majesty insisted. I reiterated the draft of my next report from memory, including now the parts about the hellions’ odd movements in the Wood, the stag that I suspected was killed by the terrorists, and my assumption that they held base in a Domain somewhere by the southeastern part of the Scarlet Forest.

  The Locust unit was almost certainly in Calidea now, but the forest was a big place and cumbersome to search. If somebody there didn’t want to be found, it was borderline impossible to track them down, until they showed themselves. Cut off the head of the monster when it peeks out of its lair. I imagined the King would appreciate the image.

  But his majesty listened to my report without smiles or surprise, and as soon as I finished, as expected, he broached the most obvious topic.

  “This informant of yours is—who, precisely?”

  Of course, he'd want to know that. But…

  “...For the time being, I cannot disclose my sources.”

  His beastly gaze narrowed. “You would keep secrets from your King, servant?”

  “As a Cardinal Mage, I am authorized to make whatever decisions I deem necessary, if I judge it to be in the best interests of our nation. And my assessment is that revealing this information to anyone else is certain to do more harm to our security than withholding it, for now.”

  Fighting the Emerald Blade's gang would only distract and divide our personnel, and could provide the Locust unit an easier opening to act. And I wasn't going to let the Bureau or RA steal my assets, or take credit for my work.

  Of course, the King didn't appreciate my take on it.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “You would judge so—even if you were to be Cardinal Mage no more?”

  Pointless intimidation. When did I ever ask to be one?

  “In that case,” I answered, “the information I have should be considered off-limits to me, and I'll gladly wipe it out of my mind this instant.”

  “Oi! Watch your tongue!” Princess Lauriel lost her composure and took a step forward.

  The King stopped the woman by slightly lifting a finger from the armrest.

  “Lauriel. Leave us.”

  “Your majesty! I feel that would be unwis—”

  “Do not make me repeat myself. You know I hate that.”

  Now twice reprimanded, the princess bowed and took her leave, dismayed.

  “You go too, Romero,” the King continued, “so that my foolish daughter wouldn't feel too mistreated.”

  “Your will be done, Sire,” said the knight coolly and bowed, as if to show how it was done.

  Only after they’d crossed the long hall to the door and the way had closed after them, the King spoke again.

  “If you thought they were here because I was afraid of you, that would be a grave misunderstanding. I only allowed their attendance because they stubbornly begged for it. But it seems Lauriel is still too new to handle a devil like you. I did tell Couren furnishing you with privileges and liberties was a dumb thing to do. But the man insisted treating you with human dignity was the only way to make you see this Kingdom as your home and worth fighting for.”

  How unfortunate, he was right.

  The King continued,

  “Still, try not to grow too arrogant in your might, witch. Do you know why, despite your many accomplishments in the field of slaughter, you are not one of the Seven? Because you are simply not good enough. A hero is more than a one-trick pony. It takes soul, it takes vision, it takes an in-depth understanding of what it means to be human—All things strange to you. And you should keep in mind there are still several swords in this land that can bring about the end of you.”

  My knee was starting to grow numb on the cold floor and I slightly eased my posture.

  “Your majesty,” I said, “that I'm not a hero, I know better than anyone. I have no interest towards becoming one either. I think the word alone is bleak sort of humor. That I don't really understand other people is true as well. Right when I think I have them figured out, they baffle me once again. I've given up on that too. All the same, I've become irrationally attached to this country. Since there were people who made sure it wasn't all darkness and misery for me. That I have the opportunity to protect our people from the malice of those above them is the only thing that still gets me up from the bed in the morning. Even if it brings about my doom, I will fulfill my oath, the way I see best, till the very end. Because too many gallons of blood have been spilled for me to make a joke of it. But let me say just one thing.”

  I raised my left hand and the drew down the sleeve to show the black rings coiling around the wrist.

  “Look closely! Here's the proof of my loyalty! Do not ever doubt it!”

  My words made the King’s brow twitch a little remorsefully.

  “Hm. You do have the parlance of a dog of war, as ill as it suits your maidenly looks. Very well. Have it your way then, XA. You have not failed me before, so I have no cause to question your judgment this time either.”

  Neither of us liked the other very much, but our paths were unfortunately aligned.

  Without the King, I wouldn't have a life, and without my magic, the King wouldn't have a country. So we were stuck with each other.

  Heaving a less formal sigh, the King resumed,

  “I truly wished you had been led astray and this story about terrorists was only the RA jumping at shadows, as usual. The notorious Locust unit, coming to attack my city through a thousand miles of the Wood…The concept is absurd, even by the Tarachian standard. But if the Bureau head, the Iron Valkyrie, and even you tell me the same thing, what else can I but believe it.”

  After everything I’d seen over the years, nothing the Tarachians did surprised me anymore. It seemed that the more ridiculous and far-fetched the plan, the more they liked it.

  “That said,” he went on, “the performance of the academy does not please me either. Letting a pack of hellions slip through their safety nets? What if my own son had been there that day? It may be true that strength cannot be obtained without defying peril, and it is inevitable the weak will not endure the test, this seems a little too negligent, even for those old professors. There's some evil at work. XA, I want you to keep an eye on what the faculty does in that place and report directly to me. If the Archmage doesn't shape up, it may be that Belmesion’s days of independence are soon over.”

  “As you wish.”

  Great, yet more work for me.

  The King fell in thought, brushing his great beard, and growling.

  “Hrm. So we do not know yet when and how the enemy will come?”

  “My source believes they aim to use hellions gathered from the Scarlet Forest. In that case, the method of attack should be built on the characteristics of the beasts they have found. But there are many problems with this premise, such as logistics. Even if the Tarachian shamans can use their abilities to pacify the fiends, transporting them over longer distances without being discovered seems unreasonably difficult to me.”

  “We are talking about a deplorable people that cast aside the potential of humanity to join hands with mindless monsters. I have no doubt they still have many tricks that we do not know. But have you considered another possibility, tactician? That the enemy will not merely bring us a force from abroad, but may muster one from within?”

  I spontaneously raised my face.

  “You mean, there are hellions in Canelon they could use? I was under the impression the mainland is far cleared of monsters. Those left in the wild are too small and scattered to pose a significant threat to the city.”

  “If that were all, yes. Hm. I initially had no plans to tell you this, but perhaps it is necessary, after all. So that you might fulfill your 'duty' adequately. Yes. This could well be destiny at work.”

  I could only frown in confusion, while the King rose from his seat, stretched out to his full height, and raised his booming voice.

  “Lauriel!”

  In a beat, the door opened and princess reappeared.

  “Sire! At your command.”

  “With me. We are going below.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  I watched them in deep confusion, my knee still on the floor. Instead of heading for the door, the King turned and departed past the throne towards the back end of the hall.

  “Come, XA. There is someone you must meet.”