Daybreak Volume 4 Chapter 19 – Dysphoric Pyre

“I’m back, Father.”

Sylviane said in an empty throne room as she leaned back from her sitting spot. The chamber was large enough to comfortably host a hundred, yet also featured little decoration as it was built mostly from polished blue granite. Its austere atmosphere echoed much of the castle’s design as the rulers of the Gaetane dynasty had never been much for displays of wealth. The only furnishing that drew attention from onlookers came from the heat that Sylviane could feel radiating from behind.

The Crown Princess turned her upper body and gazed back to the center of the raised dais. A large slab of blue granite was carved into a blocky and uncomfortable-looking stone armchair. The seat was ablaze with blue-white flames as the ‘Burning Throne’ remained as literal as it had always been.

Bright hot embers radiating from the stone glowed like an oversized brazier in the otherwise unlit chamber. The intense heat could have kept the throne room in a perpetual summer heat. Thankfully, the room did have a ventilation system which pumped in chill air that had been cycled under Lake Alis. An evaporator pond built above the eight-pace high ceiling also helped to further regulate.

The ‘Burning Throne’ had been a gift to her Great-great-grandfather by Queen Gwendolen of Ceredigion. For over two centuries, it had remained the seat of royal authority for the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie, in a line of succession unbroken until the recent months. The military coup launched by her uncle Duke Gabriel not only dethroned the Emperor but also damaged the legitimacy of the crown.

Worse yet, it deprived the Empire of the only one who was truly worthy and fit to sit upon that throne.

Even now, Sylviane could almost see a faint and ghostly image of her father, with his broad chest and wide shoulders sitting regally atop the Burning Throne. The Princess knew the image was a figment of her imagination created from the light of dancing flames. There was nothing that could truly bring her father back as not even the Dragonlords’ sorcery could revive the dead.

Her wishful thinking seemed to recognize this reality as the figure she saw was the body of her father which ended at the neck. Yet despite all this, Sylviane could not bring herself to abandon her father’s image.

The Princess pulled her arms closer as she felt a numbing cold press against her bosom. The partially decomposed head held in her hands had been cleansed and re-frozen with water and ice magic. Its flesh was no longer foul and slimy but hard and icy once more. Its glacial touch had none of the warmth that Sylviane associated with her father, yet for some reason the Princess still felt warmer with it pressed against her chest.

“Forgive me, Father,” a faint utterance left Sylviane’s mouth as she gazed upon her headless father with open lips. “I don’t know how to give this back.”

The Princess had come to the audience chamber with the thought of placing the head upon the Burning Throne. The intense blue-white flames that radiated from the stone would reduce any unprotected flesh to ash within the minute. Yet, when she actually came to stand before the royal seat, the Princess could not bear the thought of simply incinerating her father’s head. She had to at least see it properly returned to the body she could visualize sitting upon the throne.

Had her phoenix still been here, Sylviane might at least be able to hold the head over the body’s figment long enough until it was consumed in the flames. Maybe then her father would smile at her one last time before he disappeared. However, Hauteclaire had flown off some time ago, and the Princess’ attempt to reach over the stone chair left her arms in mild burns. Since then, Sylviane had been waiting here with the hope that her phoenix would return in response to her telepathic calls. But this turned out not to be as Hauteclaire refused to even respond.

Sylv, remember that you should never take your phoenix for granted, the Princess thought of the first lesson from her father after she summoned Hauteclaire. As natural empaths, they’re even more affected by our emotions than normal familiars. And as such, they are the first to tell when we are in a bad state.

“Hauteclaire won’t come, because there’s something broken inside me, I know…” Sylviane said as though responding to her father’s ghostly visage.

She squeezed her arms around the frozen head in her bosom. It didn’t even feel cold as the numbing frost that had spread through her body from three hours back never subsided. Her consciousness felt adrift and floated above her body with barely a thread attached. Every sensation, every movement she felt seemed like it came from the body of someone else.

The Princess looked down at her hands and noticed her own fingers trembling. The skin of her lower arms were red with burns across their back and nearing frostbite where they made direct contact against the frozen head. Yet despite this, Sylviane felt no discomfort coming from her limbs and contemplated trying the flames once more. The searing pain that she briefly experienced last time was almost a blessing compared to the emptiness that she felt inside…

“Your Highness.”

A soft and wispy voice drew Sylviane’s mind back to her surroundings. The Princess unwound her torso and faced the entrance once more as her eyes fell upon a snowy-haired girl curtsying before her on the red carpet.

The Samaran girl had been tiptoeing carefully around Sylviane since this morning when she gave the Princess an abrupt hug that left the latter stunned for a crucial moment. And before Sylviane had recovered, Sir Reynaud had removed the spiked and mutilated head from the gate.

It had taken not only orders but a serious threat before the red-headed armiger returned her father’s head. Though by that point, they were already inside the castle and the prisoners were being taken away. Sylviane no longer had blood in her eyes and her mind no longer screamed for revenge. However, the quiet unrest that had simmered inside her since felt just as if not more disturbing…

“Yes, Kaede?”

The Princess asked as she looked back down to her father’s face. Her hands tried to push up the collapsed cheek so that it might look more like the kind parent in her memories. But nothing felt right regardless of what she did.

“His Lordship, Henri de La Tours de Lorraine, wishes to see you, Your Highness.”

Sylviane could sense a faint quiver in the petite girl’s voice. The Princess had cast Faerie’s Blessing earlier in anticipation of more diplomacy and negotiations today. However, she hardly needed the motive-reading spell at this moment to sense that Kaede was afraid of her at this moment. Her ‘mania’ episode back in Avorica clearly still loomed large in the girl’s memories.

“Should I… tell him to wait? Until tomorrow?” The girl added moments later as Sylviane remained silent.

“No, It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Sylviane tried to be reassuring towards this girl whom she knew, at a logical level, was someone she cared about. However, her tone sounded stiff and lacking warmth even to her own ears.

“Your Highness,” the Samaran girl looked back with a worried look that was half sympathetic and half anxious. “Please, you need time to rest, to grieve…”

“I will, but not now.”

The Princess’ voice hardened inadvertently as she tersely cut Kaede off. The Samaran girl tensed as she looked down without attempting to say anything more.

I didn’t mean it like that, she almost sighed to herself.

Sylviane knew that her current self was not in the right state of mind. Her chest had frozen over when she saw her father’s empty eye sockets and her heart had not thawed to beat a single time since. Her emotions were completely numb as it felt like a gray pall had cast a lifeless shadow upon the world. It made her struggle to care for anyone or anything other than her father’s image and his head.

Yet, at the same time, she felt this irritable restlessness inside her. It was as though a thousand impulses fought deep within while her mind waited in a dark emptiness that needed to be filled. She needed to do something or she would lose what sanity and connection with the world she still had left, except her abysmal mood couldn’t focus enough to choose an act to pursue.

Your Highness is not okay.

The Princess heard the quiet voice of Lady Mari speak in her mind. It reminded her of the faithful maid who had escorted her through the castle’s corridors and always stood behind her in this audience chamber. Sylviane wished she could still talk to Mari or Sir Robert about what she was feeling right now. However, that was no longer possible, as both of them were also dead.

They had died defending her desire to retake the Burning Throne — a seat that Sylviane could not even see herself sitting upon right now. The throne was her father’s, not hers. And the only thing she wanted was to see his caring gaze look upon her from it.

Had it really been worth it? For her to lose her oldest companions only to sit here with neither closure nor peace? Yet, despite how hollow the victory felt, Sylviane also knew it was her duty to see that they did not fall for a meaningless cause.

Duty comes before everything else, she thought of the most important rule she had in her relationship with… not only Pascal, but her father as well.

“Please invite Lord Henri in, Kaede.”

Sylviane said in an emotionless voice as she refocused her thoughts on the present and the official business at hand. She might have retaken the capital and its royal seat of power, but there was still plenty more that still needed to be done.

“N-now?” The Samaran girl stuttered as Sylviane could feel the girl’s eyes looking at the lifeless head clutched in her chest. “Are you sure, Your High…”

“Yes, right now.” Sylviane looked up with a cold stare.

The Samaran girl almost flinched before she nodded in response:

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Sylviane watched the girl depart from the royal audience chamber before her eyes fell back down. Her fingers brushed across her father’s frozen forehead as Lord Henri, the scion of the House La Tours, strode noisily into the room in his full plate. A thought did pass through her mind that clutching her father’s remains like this might be construed as a threat towards a man who once supported the traitorous side. But at the moment she wasn’t sure if that was a desirable effect.

The Princess had never touched her father’s brows before but she knew many of his wrinkles were a result of tutoring her. Sylviane had not been as natural to her role as her older brothers, and grooming her as the successor to the crown had not been easy.

Therefore, the last thing Sylviane wanted to see now was her father’s disappointment, because she ignored her duties as the crown princess.

“Lord Henri,” an emotionless greeting emerged from her lips as she looked up.

Her hands readjusted her father’s head at the same time. It now sat upon her lap with its mutilated face and lifeless eye sockets directed towards Henri. This seemed to have an effect as the young lord looked surprisingly a little nervous. The fact her bodyguard Elspeth also kept a watchful eye on his back from the doorway could not have escaped his notice.

After the battle yesterday when Henri’s air cavalry decisively intervened in the confrontation between Sylviane and Gabriel, the Princess had sent a message to the young lord expressing her gratitude. Henri later rode onto the battlefield where he gave his oath of allegiance to Sylviane in person. However, the two of them did not have the chance for a long conversation then, as she still had to negotiate for the surrender of Gabriel’s remaining followers.

“Your Highness.”

Henri greeted as he stopped a few paces before Sylviane and bowed as deeply as his armor allowed. His emerald eyes took another glance at the frozen head in her lap as he rose. His gaze was troubled at first which matched the scowl that dominated his face, and a moment of silence fell between them as though Henri wasn’t sure how to even begin.

“Your Highness, please have my deepest condolences about what happened to your father,” the dashing young lord began in a quiet and somber voice. “I had heard rumors, but…”

Henri paused for a moment as he stared at Sylviane’s impassive gaze. He then seemed to realize something as the faintest tug pulled upwards at his left upper lip. It was a movement that should have been imperceptible, except Sylviane’s spell instantly brought her attention to it.

“I did not think that even Duke Gabriel could be so cruel as to mutilate his own brother’s head, until now…”

The Gabriel that you were once planning to support until a day ago? Sylviane thought as she stared blankly in return.

“If there’s anything that I might do to help ease Your Highness’ pain and sorrow, please do not hesitate to ask,” Henri added with a pained smile as though he was comforting a close friend. “I may not have experienced the same loss to understand your feelings right now. However I can at least lend an ear or help shoulder the burdens in this tragic time.”

Don’t give me that fake sympathy thinking that I’ll be easy to manipulate right now.

“My uncle will get what’s coming to him,” the Princess replied in a deathly quiet voice. “In the meantime, we must look ahead to what must be done. I cannot allow myself to be weighed down by the past when the Empire remains in its current state and new threats loom on the horizon.”

Yet as soon as the words left her lips, Sylviane realized how much they clashed against the emotional exhaustion in her voice or the way she cradled her father’s frozen head in her lap. To let go of the past was always far easier said than done. And in this moment, what remained of her father was the only comfort she could indulge in.

For a brief second Henri blinked as though he did not anticipate this response. However, the young lord was quick to pivot as the sympathy in his eyes transformed into a concerned yet approving nod.

“That is an admirable strength, Your Highness. Nevertheless, I would advise taking things one step at a time,” Henri counselled. “It is rarely a good idea to keep one’s emotions bottled up for long. Especially now when we could all afford to spare some time to recuperate.”

I am not leaving a power vacuum for your family to fill.

The Princess might have responded had it not been for her dispassionate mood. Instead, she stared back into Henri’s compassionate gaze. His bittersweet expression beneath a mournful frown seemed so genuine that even her detection spell couldn’t find any flaws in it. And only the context from his earlier tell kept Sylviane convinced that this was all an act.

Sylviane closed her eyes at that moment as her lips let out a fatigued exhale. It was at least partially real as half of her mind truly was sick of everything right now.

“I thank you for your advice, Lord Henri…” she replied in a quiet deadpan that disguised the sarcasm that she felt. “There will certainly be time to grieve later. But right now… we must discuss the aftermath of the recent crisis.”

“Very well, Your Highness,” Henri acquiesced with a courteous nod and smile. “In which case, please have my congratulations first on the successful retaking of the capital and the Burning Throne. It is all the more meaningful that you achieved this without shedding any Lotharin blood since yesterday’s battle.”

Not entirely true, as some did resist, Sylviane thought of the garrison column that had clashed with locals before her troops arrived. Seven soldiers and five civilians had been injured in the fight, though there were no deaths.

Shame they were such cowards.

Sylviane stared intently at Henri for a moment as her fingers caressed her father’s frozen cheeks. Her mind continued to feel torn between the cold anguish that simmered deep underneath and the icy darkness that enveloped her emotions. Her thoughts raced through the logical reasons why the common soldiers and low-ranking nobles who fought for Gabriel’s army should be spared. They were arguments that she perfectly understood, yet…

“Rhin-Lotharingie has seen enough blood spilled over this ill-timed civil war,” the Princess heard herself declare as though the words that emerged were not her own. “The Caliphate is preparing to renew their invasion by launching a new offensive even as we speak. The Imperium has fixated their attention upon us as they seek an opportunity to intervene to their benefit. In this critical moment in our Empire’s history, we must unite our strength against our external foes, for every soldier of Rhin-Lotharingie lost would only serve to benefit our enemies.”

…Regardless of how much those traitors deserve to die, her thoughts finally appended in a tone that she could agree with.

“I couldn’t agree more, Your Highness,” Henri answered as his smile faltered beneath a frown. “My sources in Arcadia informed me two nights ago that the Imperator has already begun to mobilize his resources. He has issued an edict to reassemble the western legions from their winter furlough, as well as for supply depots from across the empire to prepare their wares to be shipped north.”

Already!?

Sylviane’s eyes swelled briefly as she stared back at Henri. A grim nod was all the confirmation she needed of his certainty.

His intelligence truly is as impressive as Kaede claimed. And the fact he’s sharing this openly…

It was yet another sign that he was serious about backing her cause.

“Then we have even less time than I had thought to prepare for the next phase of the war.” The Princess frowned before she looked intently at Henri while her quivering fingers crossed above the icy head in her lap.

“I must express my gratitude to Your Lordship, once more, for the decisive aid your air cavalry provided during the battle’s climax yesterday. Had it not been for their assistance, I would have had no choice but to pull back from my hasty assault on Gabriel’s command post. It would have cost us our chance to end the battle early, which likely prevented the death of thousands of soldiers that fighting until sunset would surely have caused.”

A shadow of guilt fell upon Sylviane as she wondered why she couldn’t admit this much the night before, when a peeved Pascal scolded her actions during the battle.

Her betrothed had rightly pointed out that she had launched an attack on the heart of Gabriel’s army without any communication or coordination with the rest of her forces — which might have at least allowed him to rally the allied air cavalry in support.

It was, in his words, “a completely unnecessary and foolhardy stunt” that could have cost not only the battle, but even her life. Yet, rather than apologizing, the Princess had snapped back at him until Kaede reminded them both that they needed to be up early the next morning.

Why can’t I learn to control impulses when I’m in that state?

Yet, perhaps even that was preferable to her conflicting state-of-mind right now, as she felt restless and aggravated, yet morose and reprehensible. It was as though she both needed to do something, yet couldn’t bring herself to focus on or care about anything at the same time.

“Your Highness’ bravery on the battlefield yesterday certainly left many of us in awe,” Henri replied with a chuckle that failed to give her humor. “Nevertheless, I am simply glad that my army was able to provide an important positive contribution to Your Highness’ victory.”

The Princess felt a faint tugging at her lips as she noticed how Henry brushed off the fact they began the battle as enemies, and focused attention on how pivotal his late arrival was to her success.

Yet if I pressed the past, I’d be seen as the most ungrateful royal ever.

“We certainly could not have won yesterday without you, and that is what matters,” Sylviane responded as she wanted to put this farce behind them. Her father might be used to such pretense but she had always found it uncomfortable to bear.

It was obvious to her that Henri wanted recognition to deflect the accusations of those who claimed he was a traitor. And in that she was at least willing to offer.

“As far as anyone else is concerned, House La Tours had always been loyal to me, and only pretended to side with Gabriel to lure his forces onto the open field,” she added with an ill taste.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” the young scion beamed gratefully as he bowed towards the Princess once more.

“Of course, Your Lordship must understand that I must still reject the offer of marriage from your father the Duke,” Sylviane then continued. “However, I will honor my offer to you — that Your Lordship may take the position of the Grand Master of the royal household, or the leadership of any ministry which you prefer, as well as a seat on my royal council.”

The Grand Master was one of the Six Great Officers of the Crown. They were in charge of administering the personnel and finances of both the royal court and the Empress’ household. Because they had the authority to appoint people of their choosing to various roles across the palace, the Grand Master had tremendous influence over both the ruler and all politics that took place inside the Oriflamme Citadel. As such, it was widely considered the highest position of ‘soft power’ within the Empire.

Truth be told, Sylviane felt uncomfortable offering the position to Henri. She would have much preferred naming someone whom she could trust, rather than an ambitious young scion who would maneuver the court to his own political aims.

Yet, as the future ruler of Rhin-Lotharingie, it was important for her to offer Henri a station befitting of his rank and contributions. Otherwise, the next time her position was challenged, her vassals might consider it preferable to support her rival instead.

Nevertheless, it was also quickly apparent that this wasn’t the role that Henri sought either.

“Your Highness, if I may have your permission, I would like to form a new ministry instead, by leveraging the resources of my house for the Empire’s benefit,” the young lord requested instead.

New?

The Princess raised her brows at his completely unexpected response. Yet, before her thoughts could run off with too many guesses of its own, Henri launched into a smooth explanation that made it apparent how thoroughly he had considered this:

“For too long, the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie has lagged behind our adversaries in the capabilities of our informational intelligence. The staggering losses that we incurred at the beginning of the Caliphate’s offensive clearly shows the detriment this weakness imposed upon our military, not to mention the betrayal of Duke Gabriel which led to a disastrously timed civil conflict. It is my wish to build a service capable of rivaling Weichsel’s Black Eagles or the Imperium’s Speculatores Augusti, to level the playing field when it comes to intelligence gathering and counter-espionage,” his voice then rose slightly towards the end as though he could no longer keep his enthusiasm out.

“In other words, you want to be my spymaster.” Sylviane replied as she almost wanted to scoff at the ridiculousness of his request.

Instead, the Princess leaned forward and rested her chin atop the thin fingers which crossed over the severed head in her lap. Her head tilted slightly as she stared almost whimsically back at the young lord before her.

“In a manner of speaking,” Henri replied as his lips formed a confident grin.

It was as though he was certain that his request would not be denied.

— And in many ways, Sylviane knew he was correct.

Yes, it would certainly be beneficial for her to leverage House La Tours’ wealth of resources during a time when the crown’s purse was strained by the war’s demands. Henri had access to not only contacts within the Imperium, but also merchants from across the Inner Sea trade network thanks to his family’s efforts in developing Outremont into a trade hub. With this in mind, Sylviane had no doubt that Henri could build an institution that would significantly extend the Empire’s awareness.

However, this was also a double-edged sword. Since the spymaster served as the ruler’s ‘eyes and ears’, they were also best placed to deceive the monarch. They could easily hide details they did not wish for their sovereign to see. Worse yet, they could fabricate evidence to mislead and sabotage the relationship between a liege and her vassals, thus creating conflicts that benefited their own political agenda.

Therefore, it has always been of vital importance for rulers to appoint someone they could trust to be their spymaster. Yet, despite Henri’s decisive aid in battle yesterday, it would be a complete distortion of reality to say that Sylviane trusted him in any form. And to hand over not an existing ministry, but to allow him to build a new institution with his own people? It seemed dangerous to Sylviane in every way.

Father, what should I do?

A deep exhale left her lips as Sylviane turned the frozen head in her hands back towards herself. Her gaze fell upon its empty eye sockets as though she could still hear her father nod and speak.

I don’t have a choice, do I?

To reject such a reasonable request from someone who played the deciding force in her victory, it would sow doubt among all of her vassals whether the future Empress could be gracious and just. Worse yet, it might even throw her word of honor into doubt, as she would be refuting her promise in the eyes of some. All of which would only make her nobles second-guess themselves on whether it was worth supporting her in the future, or if their resources would be better spent elsewhere to meet their own aims.

You truly are a smarmy bastard born for politics, Sylviane thought she returned her wisteria eyes to Henri’s emerald gaze and smiled icily for the first time.

At that moment, the Princess became certain of her belief that it was Henri who made the final decision to side with her on the battlefield.

Perhaps it was due to her low opinion of Duke Hugh, but she simply could not see him making such a timely and opportune choice from hundreds of kilopaces away. Furthermore, despite their brief acquaintance, it was already clear to Sylviane that the young Henri, with his sharp smile and inquisitive gaze, was nobody’s pawn to be played.

“I agree,” Sylviane answered with a knowing smile that did not reach her eyes as she sat back straight. “It is high time for the Empire to have a formal institution for intelligence gathering. And I know no one better than you to lead the efforts in establishing it.”

And this time, Henri returned a matching grin of his own. His eyes stared knowingly back as though acknowledging that their relationship was not built upon trust but power politics.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

 

—– * * * —–

 

“Is Her Highness alright?” Reynaud asked with both anxiety and concern as he followed Kaede through the halls of the Oriflamme Citadel.

Behind him followed Gerard as the two men had been summoned by the Princess for an audience. None of the three knew the reason as to why. For his part, Reynaud had been avoiding Sylviane since this morning. He still remembered the harsh glare from his liege as she commanded in a deathly cold voice:

“I will only say this once, Reynaud – return my father to me.”

“That depends on your definition of ‘alright’,” the Samaran girl answered wryly. “She’s been clutching her father’s head in her arms ever since you handed it back to her.”

“The head that’s been rotting outside for over a month?” Gerard asked as though he could hardly believe it.

But then, he also hadn’t been there when the citadel’s gates opened or witnessed Sylviane’s reaction to seeing her father’s head atop a spike.

“That’s… just messed up in so many ways.”

“Yes,” responded Kaede. “It’s incredibly unhealthy for her mental state right now.”

“I’m sorry.” Reynaud scowled as he looked down to the blue-granite floor that they strode across. “I know I shouldn’t have simply given it to her, but…”

“I know,” Kaede filled in for him before she sighed. “I’m too scared to go against her as well. Her Highness is simply not the Sylviane that we know right now.”

“Didn’t Sir Robert leave something behind for you for exactly situations like this?” Reynaud asked.

“Yes, and I made her tea using the last of the lithia water,” Kaede said. “She hadn’t drank any before I left to find you though.”

“The lavender-chamomile tea that you take so often?” Gerard queried.

“No,” Kaede shook her head as she led them around the last corner before the door to the throne room. “Chamomile is an anti-depressant. I have no idea what that would do to her right now. Perceval suggested rosemary as it improves mental focus. I mixed it with some strong black tea…”

“Reynaud!” A sharp soprano cried out as Elspeth, the Princess’ bodyguard, walked briskly towards them from the entrance. “Where were you!?”

Two of Sylviane’s other armigers also flanked the doorway. Both of them looked towards Reynaud with a slight scowl.

“I made myself scarce since Her Highness clearly thought I smelled terrible today,” Reynaud raised his palms with a nonchalant shrug.

“You’re a royal armiger, act like it!” The petite armiger seethed with gritted teeth. “We do not abandon our posts just because we made a mistake that left our liege angry.”

It’s not a mistake to protect Her Highness from her own anger, Reynaud thought.

But with the doorway to the audience chamber open, Reynaud thought better about arguing that within the Princess’ potential earshot.

“You’re not at your post either, which is by Her Highness’ side,” he pointed out instead.

“Her Highness requested to be left alone,” Elspeth answered. “I obey her wishes.”

Lady Mari wouldn’t have done that, Reynaud pursed his lips as rather missed the lady’s maid who understood that loyalty went beyond mere obedience.

“Besides, I can see into the chamber from here,” she added. “And at least two of us are covering every door and window from outside.”

Except the last thing that should happen is for Her Highness to be left alone right now, his thoughts appended. But Reynaud only scowled inwardly as he could not even bring himself to stay near the Princess.

“It is not our place to question Her Highness’…”

Perhaps taking his silence as recognition of wrongdoing, the petite armiger began to berate him further, only to be interrupted by a dispassionate voice that came from inside the throne room.

“Elspeth, let them in.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Elspeth’s cutesy tone returned instantly as she strode back to the front of the doorway. She cast one last glare at Reynaud as she gestured towards the audience chamber.

“Well, let’s go then,” Gerard stepped past him and stepped first into the throne room.

You’re sure calm in a moment like this, Reynaud sighed as he and Kaede followed.

The three of them walked into the dim chamber lit only by the blaze of the Burning Throne. The curtains which had been glued over the windows during Gabriel’s short reign had yet to be removed. The other furniture that had once been in this room had not been brought back either. And perhaps as a result, Sylviane sat upon the steps of the mildly dusty dais in front of the throne’s blazing flames.

“Your Highness,” both Reynaud and Gerard stopped a handful of paces before the Princess and bowed as deeply as they would to a sovereign of the Empire.

“Sir Gerard, Sir Reynaud, thank you for coming.”

The Princess spoke in a hollow, emotionless tone as she raised her eyes from the mutilated face of the late Emperor in her lap. Her body quivered faintly as blue and purple patches across her arms and fingers showed signs of early frostbite.

“I was just telling father about the excellent job that you all have done during your journey south,” she said as though the topic was pleasant small talk.

To a frozen head? Reynaud swallowed as he almost couldn’t believe how macabre the image before him was.

Is she being sarcastic?

Although it was through no fault of his own, there was no doubt that Reynaud had failed to protect his charge during the diplomatic mission to Outremont. Both Kaede and Cecylia, the Princess’ Grand Squire and her closest friend, had been captured by the enemy. And despite spending a week in preparation to break them out, he had to abort the operation on the final night as Sylviane forbade him from taking any acts of provocation against Henri’s army.

Reynaud did rejoin Sylvaine’s ranks for the climactic battle of the civil war, where he played his part as a royal armiger in the capture of the false emperor. Nevertheless, this did not change the fact that he had completely failed the first mission that the Princess gave him. And considering how Sylviane glared at him after he snatched her father’s head and tried to hide it away, it left the redhead more than a little anxious towards what the Princess had in mind.

Gerard, however, did not let this deter him as he stood straight and walked briskly up to deliver a parchment scroll that he kept in his hands.

“Your Highness, this is my report on the infrastructure in Southern Rhin-Lotharingie, or at least of the regions that we had passed throughout during our journey.”

Better to redirect her mind onto official business, I guess.

“Thank you, Sir Gerard. I will be sure to give this a thorough read later.” The Princess’ outstretched fingers were trembling as she took the scroll from his offered hands and placed it beside her on the dais. “However, the real reason I wished to speak to the both of you before the end of today was to give you both your new assignments.”

“Your Highness?”

Reynaud looked bewildered as of all possibilities, this was certainly not the reason he had expected. The redhead had anticipated some degree of punishment from his actions. He could only hope that he wouldn’t be demoted from his lifelong ambition.

“Sir Reynaud, in recognition of your achievements over this past mission, I am reassigning you to Kaede, to be her personal bodyguard in all future diplomatic embassies.” the Princess declared in her dry, emotionless tone as she glanced at the Samaran girl who stood silently behind Reynaud.

She really is demoting me!

“Your Highness!” Reynaud immediately knelt down on one knee as he bowed his head. “I know I have failed on this past mission to keep your emissaries safe. It is my fault and I acknowledge that. But please give me another chance to prove myself!”

The young man did not see it, but for a brief second his liege looked taken aback. Sylviane’s brows furrowed as she seemed puzzled by his response.

“Sir Reynaud, I am not blaming you,” the Princess remarked in a voice so lifeless that it could have come from the dead skull. “You will certainly have more ‘chances’ in this new role. However, I do not understand why you are so against it?” She added as impatience crept into her tone.

“Your Highness, it has been my dream since childhood to be in service to an Oriflamme,” Reynaud answered sincerely. “I know I have not always acted as you wished. That I’ve often taken initiative on my own as I did this morning. But I’ve–”

The young man’s words fell off as he looked up slightly. But instead of seeing the Princess, his eyes met the lifeless sockets of the late Emperor staring back at him from her lap.

Is she asking me to vow before her father in heaven? Reynaud felt a tremble run down not only his spine, but his entire body at that moment.

“I-it is my most solemn wish to dedicate my life to Rhin-Lotharingie, and to use everything in my being for the future of our people and our state. I finally have a chance to do this at Your Highness’ side. Please do not take this away from me!”

He finally looked up further to meet the Princess in the eyes as he finished. But the half-dead wisteria gaze that stared blankly at him only blinked.

Nevertheless, it took little more than a second before realization came to her eyes. Sylviane’s lips formed a strange looking scowl before she gave a faint snort and, after that, a sardonic ‘laugh’.

“No, Reynaud, I am not demoting you!” She declared in an exasperated tone that finally injected some energy into her bland voice. “If anything, your actions during this past mission rather impressed me. Not only did you stay behind after Kaede’s capture to shadow Henri’s army and supply me with valuable intelligence, you even formulated a plan to rescue Kaede and assembled your own team to do so.”

It was only then when the redheaded armiger finally realized that they’ve been completely talking past each other. The misunderstanding had partly been a result of his own assumptions and partly because… the normally eloquent Princess was utterly tone deaf right now.

“Reynaud, you’ve shown far greater leadership qualities than anyone would expect for a mere armiger over the past weeks,” Sylviane explained further before she pursed her lips. “That includes what you did this morning, which I did not approve of, but I do comprehend why. It is because of that capacity for independent action which made me want to assign you to Kaede for the long term.”

“Your Highness–” Reynaud was about to interject when Sylviane cut him off by raising a frostbitten hand.

“I’ve given this plenty of thought over the past few days,” she continued. “Your new role wouldn’t be a constant one, as you only need to provide security for Kaede when she is on a diplomatic mission per my request. And you will retain your position as a royal armiger directly in my service.

“This also has the added benefit of giving Kaede more legitimacy as she is accompanied by one of my closest retainers — the renowned Winterslayer which others have surely heard about,” the Princess finished as she eyed the unique Knight’s Cross that Reynaud wore between his folded collars.

Meanwhile, the young man blinked in astonishment as all of his anxieties had been proven wrong.

She really isn’t blaming me, for any of this.

In that moment, Reynaud realized that despite becoming a retainer to Sylviane, he had never shrugged off his old prejudices on how he viewed the upper nobility.

“Well? What do you say?” Sylviane asked as though she was tiring of further conversation.

“Yes, I humbly accept!” Reynaud answered without any doubt in his mind.

“Please, even my father cannot imagine you being humble,” the Princess responded in a deadpan voice that sent chills down Reynaud’s spine. “However, I do think this’ll help you grow further. And as a part of your new role, I want you to assemble a security team for Kaede, people who might guard her even when you’re not available.”

“Your Highness, I…” the familiar was about to object before Sylviane cut her off.

“I don’t want to keep losing people close to me. And you, Kaede, are borderline useless if ambushed in close combat,” Sylviane stated plainly before turning back to her armiger. “Well?”

“Yes, Your Highness. And thank you.” Reynaud took another quick bow before he stood up.

The Princess simply nodded in return before pivoting to his friend next.

“Sir Gerard, I shall read your report in due time. But first, tell me, what were your general impressions during your trip south?”

“Your Highness,” the tall engineer bowed his head respectfully again. “It was apparent during our trip that there is no single way to describe the civil infrastructure in the south. Some of the regions, particularly the Rhétie lands surrounding Outremont, had excellent transport and irrigation systems that were likely spurred on by the bustling trade through their region.”

Another wry look came to Sylviane’s countenance as she nodded in agreement:

“Whatever other faults the La Tours family has, neglecting the productivity and wealth of the territories they governed was not one of them. Had only Belgae experienced the same, then our civil war might have been avoided.”

“I agree, Your Highness,” Gerard nodded. “Meanwhile, in other areas, such as the old fortress-town of Aouta, we saw poorly maintained roads and crumbling old infrastructure, with a meager local economy that is in desperate need of outside investment. The way the war in the south has also pulled away most of their able bodied men isn’t helping.”

“No,” the Princess said as a sigh left her lips. “And with the planting season almost upon us, it would really help if we could demobilize some of the men to return home for at least a month. But whether our enemies will let us…” She trailed off before exhaling once more and staring at the dead face in her lap again.

It reminded Reynaud of when he overheard that the Caliphate, whose own planting season had come and gone early, was mobilizing yet more soldiers to augment their invasion armies.

“Regardless, Sir Gerard, I’m afraid our hands are tied so long as this war continues,” Sylviane declared. “In the meantime, we must shore up what we have using the minimum of resources. And it is for this reason that I wished to speak with you.”

The tall engineer tilted his head slightly as he wasn’t sure where the Princess was going with this.

“When my traitor of an uncle took over the capital, many of the ministers refused to recognize his authority,” Sylviane began to explain. “Countess Nevers, the Minister of Land and Resources, was one of them. And although Kaede tells me that she remains unharmed despite many weeks spent in the dungeon, the same could not be said for two of her top aides who attempted to flee and were killed by Gabriel’s soldiers.

“Considering your background in this field and the great help you’ve provided me since Gabriel’s coup, I wanted to offer you this opportunity to learn directly under the tutelage of Countess Nevers,” the Princess offered.

Reynaud watched as his friend’s jaw slowly fell open. It had only been a few months since he was the lowliest of apprentices at the ministry. Suddenly, he was given the opportunity to rise among its top aides and work directly under the minister.

“Y-Your Highness, I’m deeply honored…” Gerard responded.

However, there was a hint of reservation in his voice. And the Princess certainly picked up on it as she looked up from her father’s face:

“But?”

A prolonged moment of silence followed as it seemed clear that Gerard was too concerned and anxious to continue.

“Sir Gerard,” Sylviane spoke again as she seemed to be trying to sound encouraging. “If I was wrong in anticipating your desires, please do not hesitate to correct me. I want this to be a right and proper reward for you.”

“Your Highness,” the engineer explained hesitantly. “It has always been my dream to serve the Empire in the construction of its infrastructure. And I will proudly accept this post if that is what my country asks of me,” he declared. “However, after my experiences in the Battle of Gwilen River, I’ve also been considering if, perhaps, I should stay with the army.”

Reynaud’s eyes swelled as he stared at his close friend with surprise. It was well known among their group back at the academy that Gerard had little interest in the army. The fact he could suddenly change course in just a few seasons was more than a little surprising.

“I have no love for warfare. But the bloodbath along the banks of Gwilen River has made it clear to me that the current methods of siegecraft are far too wasteful of soldiers’ lives,” Gerard answered with a haunted look in his eyes before his voice steadily rose. “I want to help Rhin-Lotharingie build a brighter future. But to do that, what we need most is not mere resources and expertise, but also the lives and optimism of our young men!”

Lives and optimism…

Reynaud couldn’t help thinking of their brief stay at the fortress-town of Aouta, and the noticeable decline that could be attributed to the war-weary cynicism of the locals. It made Reynaud wonder about a question that he would have never considered a year ago — was a victory after great sacrifices truly the only acceptable outcome as stories of the Rhin-Lotharingie Independence War claimed?

For a moment, the Princess was silent as she looked taken aback by Gerard’s passionate declaration. Her eyes then glazed over, and a pained expression formed across her face as her lips shook and a tear fell down her cheeks.

“Your Highness?” Gerard asked worryingly.

“I’m sorry…”

Sylviane croaked as she raised her frostbitten fingers up to wipe away the tears. However, touching her face with them seemed to finally make her realize how cold her shaking hands were. The Princess bundled her fingers in her palms and raised them before her lips to blow her breath against them. Meanwhile, her eyes remained haunted by loss and sorrow as she looked about the dim and mostly vacant audience room.

“You just reminded me of Sir Robert, and Mari, and all the armigers and soldiers whose lives it took… for me to return home to find an empty seat,” the Princess added in a bleak voice that stood on the verge of breaking.

It’s not just her father that she’s thinking about…

In the past, Reynaud had always wondered if the upper nobility ever truly cared for the levy and even retinue they lost during their quest for power and glory. He still didn’t have a clear answer, but it was obvious from this moment that the Princess was not one of those people who could sacrifice her followers and not feel pain from it.

She truly does care.

“My apologies, Your Highness. I didn’t mean your victory was…” Gerard said before he stumbled and tried again. “We all know how important it is for the Empire to have proper leadership during troubled times like these…”

“I understood what you meant, Sir Gerard,” the Princess responded as she tried once more to steady her voice.

“I believe you have come to realize something that few Lotharins truly understand,” she then continued as she wiped the single tear track from her cheeks. “And if you think that siegecraft is your calling, then I will gladly give you a captain’s commission in the ranks of the army. The deceased General Menno has also left behind considerable knowledge in the art of fortifications, whom I would like to entrust to someone I can rely upon.”

“Your Highness, this may be impertinent of me, but could you please give me until next Monday to decide?” Gerard asked with a worried look. “This will likely be the most important decision in my life. I want to make sure that I have no regrets in the future when I look back.”

“Of course. And here…”

The Princess removed the severed head of her father from her lap for — according to what Kaede had told them earlier — the first time in hours. She placed it down next to her, before twisting her body and raising her right hip to reach into an extradimensional pocket sewn into her dress.

— It was then when Reynaud caught sight of an empty tea mug sitting halfway behind her hips.

“These are General Menno’s plans for the new fortress he built south of Lake Alis, which we captured along with the rest of his writing,” Sylviane said as he pulled out a large paper scroll with her trembling hands. “I think you might find this useful in deciding where your future lies.”

Both Reynaud and Gerard looked toward each other in astonishment. The armiger knew that General Menno was the foremost siege expert in the Empire and possibly even in Western Hyperion. His knowledge, accumulated through a lifetime of warfare, could literally be considered a priceless artifact.

Yet, at this moment, the Princess was entrusting a piece of it to a yeoman, whom she hadn’t even known until she promoted him to chevalier mere months ago, all because of the potential she saw in him.

“I-I’m deeply honored, Your Highness. Thank you!” Gerard declared in his most grateful voice before he stepped forward and bowed to receive the scroll.

“There’s no need,” said Sylviane as another tear fell from her eyes while a mirthless smile formed across her lips.

“Father once taught me that the truest role of any leader is to find and develop talent for the future of the realm. And Rhin-Lotharingie will certainly need its best and brightest in the days to come. If I could play my part to help individuals such as yourself reach their aspirations, then I am glad for it.”

Then, almost as soon as she had finished talking, Sylviane took the lifeless head of her deceased father back into her hands.

For a moment Reynaud and his companions all stared and wondered if the Princess would start cradling it in her lap again. However, Sylviane turned about where she sat and faced the throne instead. She then leaned forward on her knees and placed the frozen head atop the last step on the dais before the royal seat.

“I’m sorry, Father,” the Princess muttered quietly beneath her breath. “I know I shouldn’t be trapped in the past like this…”

A moment passed in silence before Sylviane gradually stood up with slow motions as her legs seemed to have fallen asleep. She next reached down again to take up her father’s head with her frostbitten fingers once again. Except this time, instead of bringing it close to her body, Sylviane extended her hands and reached out towards the throne’s blazing flames.

“Your Highness,” Kaede rushed forward at that moment. “Please, let me… your hands…”

“No.” Sylviane declared straight in a commanding voice without any room of negotiation.

The Princess then leaned her head back as she turned partially to face them.

Gone was the blank, emotionless expression that the Princess had worn since the beginning of their audience. Her facial muscles twitched and trembled as agony filled her teary gaze. Her cheeks were still red from the frosty touch of her fingers. Meanwhile, large droplets collected at the edge of her eyes before sliding down her face.

“I must do this, for myself,” she declared in a faint voice that was barely holding together.

“Then please wait a moment,” Kaede rushed to say before she paused completely.

For a moment the Samaran girl said and did nothing else. Then, she reached out to the Princess’ forearms as magic sprang from her fingers and wrapped around Sylviane’s arms and hands like a protective barrier.

“Pascal says that spell won’t hold long against these flames. But it’s the best he has given your mana resistance,” Kaede said in a voice that was both apologetic and carried a shade of wry encouragement.

Of course the Princess has never needed to cast fire resist spells… Reynaud realized.

He then watched as the Princess stretched out her injured hands and extended the thawing head of her father over the Burning Throne’s cleansing flames. The intense blue-white embers quickly turned the remaining hairs on the head to ash and began to burn into layers of dead flesh…

It didn’t take long before Sylviane’s body started to tremble while both of her arms shook. A groan of agonizing pain came from her gritted teeth but she nevertheless refused to let go of her father’s head as held it over the flames.

“Elder Sister, you can’t…” Kaede tried to say in a pained voice before even she seemed to recognize that it was pointless to even ask.

“Call Perceval here, now!” She turned to cry out at Reynaud and Gerard as her eyes lay glazed with tears.

Wait, you can’t mean… Reynaud thought as his eyes swelled to the size of saucers.

But that’s insane!

The redheaded armiger strode forward and was about to pull the Princess back when Kaede stopped him. The Samaran girl shook her head and mouthed silently: not yet.

“I’m on it,” Gerard responded as he immediately began casting a communication spell.

Meanwhile, Reynaud watched with astonishment as the skin on Sylviane’s underarms began to shrivel and break and darken like singed bread. Nevertheless, the Princess insisted on holding onto her father’s remains and refused to drop the head into the flames. The white-hot fire scorched her arms as it burnt away the dead flesh like a cremation pyre, yet Sylviane refused to pull away until the entire head was consumed.

Then, as soon as the last of the dead flesh had been turned to ash, Sylviane immediately collapsed backwards as though she was a doll with cut strings. The smell of burnt flesh filled their noses as her arms emerged from the flames. The Samaran girl tried to catch her but ended up being pushed off balance herself.

Reynaud rushed in at that moment and at least kept the two from hitting the stone steps of the raised platform.

“G-goodbye, father.”

He heard one last faint utterance from the Princess’ tearstained lips before she passed out from the pain.

“Conjure Water.”

Gerard cast the spell as a stream of cold water began to flow from his casting glove and splashed over Sylviane’s burnt limbs. The torrent of water quickly began to drench the Princess’ dress as well as Kaede’s clothes.

“What are you–?” Elspeth’s voice sprang out from right behind Reynaud before he even realized she was there.

“The best first aid for burns is cool, running water,” said Gerard. “I come from a baker’s family. We know these things.”

From close up, Reynaud could see the sides of Sylviane’s arms were a bright red with boils growing beneath the cooked surface tissues. Her underarms were even worse, as the outermost layer lay broken if not blackened. Though thankfully, the protective spell had at least kept the flames from burning through the skin layers.

The following minute passed in complete silence as Reynaud held Kaede’s shoulders above the stone floor. Meanwhile, the Samaran girl held onto the unconscious Sylviane and kept the Princess’ arms under the water’s flow.

Then, it was Kaede who first broke the silence as she exhaled a sigh of relief:

“I do wish Her Highness would have chosen better means. But at least she’s forced herself to accept what happened.”

I can’t believe she would go that far…

In that moment, Reynaud realized that despite everything the Princess had to be experiencing in her emotional state, she still retained sufficient clarity of mind for this.

Perhaps it was helped along by Kaede’s tea. Perhaps her conversations with Gerard had reminded the Princess of where her duties truly laid. The result was the same either way in the end. Because deep down, Sylviane had always known what needed to be done.

And it wasn’t only for her father. It wasn’t only for her companions.

It was her understanding of her role as the sovereign of their state.

“Type-two burns,” Gerard said as he knelt and examined the Princess’ arms while his right hand continued to pour water over the damaged flesh. “Shouldn’t permanently injure any nerves at least. Perceval will be here in a minute to start healing.”

The tall engineer then sighed with a scowl across his frowning face. “Talk about a willful liege.”

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