Chapter 43: Incoming! (Princess Mia, That Is)

In downtown Senia, where the wealthier folks resided, there was a large and well-furnished manor once occupied by an affluent merchant. Dasayev Donovan was being held in its basement. All things considered, he was being treated fairly well; his captors had afforded him some comforts given his advanced age. Granted, no matter how well he was treated, he'd still rather be free.

"So, have you decided you want to cooperate with us yet?" asked a glib-looking man as he walked into the room.

Dasayev shot him a stern glare before silently shaking his head.

"Seriously? I don't get you, old man. It's not like you've got any family. If you really care about the masses, isn't now the time for you to take a stand?"

"I do not believe His Majesty has made an irreparable mistake. So long as I have concerns, I will continue to voice them, but voicing them will be all that I do. Regicide will only intensify the chaos and worsen the people's suffering."

"Why don't you take the throne yourself then? You know what needs to be done. Ain't it faster to do it yourself? Come on, you can't tell me the thought has never crossed your mind."

To stand at the top of a nation was something that all nobles and politicians had dreamt of at one time or another. Dasayev's reply, however, was a curt shake of the head.

"Enough. Do you expect me to heed your words when you have not even given me your name?"

"Eh? Didn't I? I'm pretty sure I told you back when we first met. I'm—"

"Jem. I know."

It was the most common name in this area. So prevalent was its usage that people who didn't introduce themselves were referred to as "Nameless Jems." Dasayev highly doubted this was the man's real name.

"Begone. Your courtship is futile. I am too old to be wooed by tall dark strangers."

"All right, whatever you say," Jem said with an indifferent shrug before his voice grew darker. "But let me be clear. Even my patience has its limit."

Then he walked out of the room.

"Argh! Cursed geezer, he's really starting to get on my nerves..." Jem snarled as he walked out into the hallway. "I'd have killed him five times over if it wasn't for... Ugh, that Graham bastard, he needs to hurry up and find the right person..."

With the combat training he'd received as a Wind Crow it would have been trivially easy to kill Donovan, and that had indeed been the original plan, but there had been a change in circumstances. The problem was that, unlike his counterpart in Tearmoon, Dasayev Donovan did not have a Tiona equivalent. He had no children, and his wife had passed away long ago. His surviving relatives were all old and faithfully subordinate to the King, and none of them would ever consider rebellion. There was no one who could take real advantage of the pretext of revenge that would come of Donovan's death. They were missing the next link in the chain.

Lambert was undeniably a natural orator. After some instruction from Jem, he was even displaying some competence in cold reading. Such tricks, however, were ultimately child's play. Stirring up emotions in people was a fundamentally trivial task. One need know only what the other party wants to hear, and then push them in the desired direction. A string of pleasing words — music to their ears — mixed with a few poisonous chords was enough. He had manipulated many people with this method, ranging from Remno's underground revolutionaries... to Sunkland's Wind Crows. But it still wasn't enough. In order for the revolution to succeed, there needed to be a single target for the rioters' zeal to focus on.

"Had everything gone according to plan, it'd be time to start inciting chaos in the empire now. That meddling wench..."

It was all the fault of the Great Sage of the Empire. Because of her, they were completely underprepared and critically short on time, and he'd been forced to rewrite the script. The new plan was supposed to start with Lambert's revolutionary army rescuing Dasayev Donovan. The chancellor would then join their cause, and together they would lead the revolting masses in a series of insurgent events while simultaneously denouncing the monarchy for its sins. That was why he'd been holding Donovan here in Senia, he'd figured that if he managed to convince the old man he could still salvage his original scenario.

"And then there's that idiot..."

He'd wanted to wait until he converted Donovan to their side before beginning the revolts, but Lambert had gone and kicked off an uprising on his own. Though the young upstart's knack for persuasive speech and manipulation were normally a boon, those traits would become a serious nuisance if he started going off half-cocked.

"It looks like I chose the wrong person for the job after all. I was only intending to hold onto him as a backup, but... I have to say, it sure ain't fun being pressed for time," he said with a twisted grin as he pulled a book out of his pocket. It had a jet black cover and exuded an eerie air. "The Great Sage of the Empire, Mia Luna Tearmoon... I hear she's a friend of Rafina Orca Belluga. It'd better not be that woman pulling the strings..."

He muttered bitterly to himself as he ran his finger along the book's cover. As he did, a faint mark appeared on the surface, its shape uncannily serpentine.

"The empire's collapse tips the first domino in a cascading ripple that will topple nation after nation until all have fallen... and the destruction of order gives rise to chaos. That is our life's goal, as well as our dying wish... And I will not allow it to be thwarted."

He continued contemplating how to persuade Dasayev Donovan as he disappeared down the corridor. Little did he know that a great collapse was indeed imminent, only it would not be that of nations... but his plan. And it would take the form of a young girl.

The countdown had begun. Mia was incoming.

As Mia had expected, Lynsha knew where the manor in question was located.

"I think the place used to belong to a merchant or something, but I don't remember the revolutionaries ever using it..."

Her statement made it seem more likely than ever that the manor was the building they were looking for. The fact that the revolutionaries had heard no mention of it could, in a way, be taken as proof of its significance; a mob of amateurs would not be trusted with such important information.

After being filled in by Mia, Lynsha quickly agreed to lead the way for them. As they prepared to leave, however, Mia was surprised to discover a pensive Lynsha staring at her.

"Is there something on my face?" she asked, puzzled.

"Oh, um, no... It's just that... I never thought you'd actually try to stop this conflict. I mean, you look like..."

"I look like what?"

Mia gave her head a quizzical tilt.

"...Never mind. Let's go."

"Is it just me or was she about to say something terribly rude?" muttered Mia as Lynsha walked off.

Mia, in fact, was pretty sure she did mind, but she dwelled on it for only a moment before she had to hurry to catch up to the ever-receding figure of her guide.

A hushed silence had fallen over Senia. But for the occasional scurrying passerby, its streets were completely deserted.

"Well, that's not good," Keithwood grumbled as he looked around. "With the place this empty, every damn pair of eyes is going to be on us."

"There's not much we can do about that. Nobody wants to get dragged into a needless conflict," Lynsha said with a shrug before turning into a narrow alley. She rounded a few more corners before exclaiming, "There!"

The group looked where she was pointing and saw a large manor situated on an even larger yard. Unfortunately, there were no trees or shrubbery big enough to offer them cover.

"What should we do?" Lynsha asked. "We can wait until it's dark, but..."

As though on cue, their surroundings began to dim, prompting Mia to look up at the sky. Her eyes grew distant.

"My, how fast the day went. It's already..." she said in a soft, pensive voice, as though the words had simply slipped from her lips.

Dusk had crept up on them, and the horizon had begun to burn red. The sun, just like that fateful day... had begun to bleed. Voices echoed in her ears. Images swam before her eyes. Once again, she was walking up those steps, her heart withering under the hate-filled gazes of her people. The loneliness returned.

I... don't like this place. Something about it is... just terrible.

Whoever was responsible for the pain she'd suffered, they were in that building. The thought made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She rubbed her arms, but she couldn't seem to remove the invisible layer of frost that had settled on her skin.

"Are you scared, Mia?"

"Eh?"

She turned reflexively, and her eyes met Abel's. He studied her with an expression of sober concern.

"Oh, Abel, it's you... No, I'm fine."

She shook her head. It wasn't fear. It was just that... the scene felt familiar, and it reminded her of her past. It was all in her head; she just had to put it out of her mind. Her reply, however, did not dissuade Abel, who held her gaze and gently placed his hand on hers.

"...Hm?"

It took a second for the sudden gesture to register, but when it did, she flinched so hard her feet almost left the ground.

"Huh?! Wh-Wh-Wha—"

Whatever it was that had been gripping her heart — past shades or future specters — they were gone now, the dread they embodied shattered into a million fading fragments that vanished in the breeze. The warmth he radiated and the tender sensation of her hand enveloped in his brought forth an enchanted sign from her lips.

"Sorry," he said, looking away. "My, um, mother... She used to hold my hand like this, and it helped me relax, so..."

The tip of his nose glowed a faint shade of pink, and he spoke with the tone of someone trying to explain away a particularly embarrassing moment.

"O-Oh, um, I see," answered Mia, her whole face flushed with color. "I... very much appreciate your consideration, Abel."

Clearly overwhelmed, her voice cracked a little and she spoke with what could charitably be called an unconventional use of vibrato. To put things into context — in case anyone was losing sight of the situation — all they did was hold hands. That was it. For all her boasting, when put on the spot, Mia was fundamentally still an innocent young maiden.

"Hey, you two, is something wrong?" shouted Sion, who was ahead of them.

H-Hey! Things were just getting good, too! she mentally grumbled, pointedly ignoring what felt suspiciously like a wave of relief washing over her. After all, actual romance was way out of her comfort zone, and her chicken heart was soon squawking up a storm. All this... from what was more or less an affectionate handshake.

"I get that this is all very necessary to keep the empire going, but please, my dear princess. Time and place. We're in public," quipped Dion before he cracked a grin. "Besides, isn't it too early to be making heirs?"

"Wh-What?! W-We just held hands! You can't make babies by holding hands! P-Probably..."

For what was a biological impossibility, Mia didn't sound very confident. Instead, Anne stepped in front her, as though shielding her from Dion's teasing.

"Sir Dion, please refrain from amusing yourself at Her Highness's expense."

"Hahaha, between Ludwig and you, it's like the princess has a pair of overprotective nannies."

Mia glared at Dion, who didn't appear the least bit repentant. Her expression, however, soon softened. She looked back to the sky, then at her companions. It was the same ominous sunset, the same crimson sky... but she wasn't alone. And that made all the difference.

She had Abel. She had Sion. She had Keithwood and Dion. She had her loyal subjects — Anne near and Ludwig afar — and she even had an ex-archnemesis in Tiona. They were there for her. So, she took a deep breath and nodded.

It's okay. We can do this. I know we can.

Lynsha alone wore an exasperated expression as she regarded the merry band she'd brought with her.

"Hey, are any of you going to, oh, I don't know... hide or something?"

"My name is Sion Sol Sunkland, and I am speaking to all those currently inside this manor! You are to drop your weapons and present yourselves at once! The White Crows' plot has been exposed! You have no more reason to fight!" Sion shouted at the looming structure.

And with that, "covert" went out the window. Lynsha pressed a palm to her face. Even Mia hadn't expected him to announce their arrival, just like that.

A-Are we really going to be okay like this?

Feeling a growing sense of uncertainty, she gave Dion an inquiring look, who shrugged indifferently in response.

"Hard to say if any of them'll actually do as he said, but it'll probably plant some doubt in their minds."

He drew his sword and rested it on his shoulder.

"Right then, fellow companions whose lives are all worth a hell of a lot more than mine, for your safety, please refrain from placing yourselves in front of me. It makes it difficult for me to protect you when I have to chop through you to get to my opponents."

They decided to split into two groups. The first, composed of Sion, Dion, Abel, Anne, and Mia, would enter the manor from the front. Needless to say, while Anne might still make herself useful in some way, Mia was just inflating the headcount. Meanwhile, Lynsha and Keithwood would sneak in through the back.

"Let's get this party started."

Dion's sword flashed in an arc, and he stepped through the now-defunct door. Finding the interior exceedingly dim, he opened the eye he'd kept closed and scanned the surroundings. It was a trick he used to maintain vision when entering a dark place, and it worked.

Claaaank!

The sound of a metallic impact came a split second after. A blade shot out of a dark corner behind him, and he caught it with his own before smirking.

"Surprise attack, huh?"

It had been perfect, launched from his blind side under the cover of darkness. Nonetheless, it failed to have its intended effect. He didn't even flinch. Instead, he shrugged.

"I swear, you spies can be such wannabe assassins sometimes... What? Did you think I'd have trouble swinging a sword around in a small space? Or that you'd get me before my eyes could adjust to the darkness?" He tsk-tsked his assailant with a finger wag. "Points for effort, I guess, but such a wimpy thrust! I could have stopped it with my eyes closed. Very disappointing. I blame the Adamantine Spear for getting my hopes up."

He wrapped his fingers around the offending arm and squeezed. There was a crunching sound, and the man's face twisted with pain. Dion leaned in, bringing their faces so close that they almost touched, and flashed him a smile with plenty of teeth.

"By the way, I should mention that Prince Sion is with us. Just in case you, you know, somehow didn't hear him when he was shouting his lungs out at you."

The man's eyes darted to the door just as Sion stepped in, and recognition flickered in his pupils. Dion smiled and spoke in a tone that was almost gentle.

"Look, this whole scheme thing you white squawkers have got going? It's pretty much totally out in the open now, so you might wanna reconsider if it's really worth giving your life for," he said before driving his foot into the man's gut, causing him to crumple to the ground. He stomped on his arm and pointed his sword at the man's nose before snarling, "Of course, if you'd prefer to be a martyr, then I'd be more than happy to oblige you."

Then he retracted his vicious attitude and lazily slung his sword back over his shoulder.

"Just surrender, okay? And tell all your buddies to do so too. I'd rather avoid unnecessary bloodshed."

"My, what a surprise, Captain Dion," said Mia. "I thought you loved fighting."

"Come on, princess. Even I have standards. I like fighting, not bullying. The skill gap can only get so big before it becomes sadistic. Bring me another guy like that Adamantine Spear though, and I'll happily go another dozen rounds with him," he answered before glancing at his grounded assailant with brutal disdain.

That one look was enough to shatter the last vestiges of the man's resolve. Their own prince stood opposed to their cause, and they faced a warrior far too strong for them to handle. Each hurdle was high enough in its own right, but combined, they presented an insurmountable wall. After surrendering, the man was instructed to light all the lamps in the manor, which he promptly did. Sion, illuminated in all his princely glory, scanned the room, into which men were slowly trickling, their hands up and weapons discarded.

Mia breathed a sigh of relief.

Well, it looks like things will actually work out after all.

Anne, who was similarly soothed by the dissipating tension, found herself sufficiently composed to give Mia the good old maid once-over.

"Milady, your hair seems to have lost some of its luster..." she said with a concerned sigh.

"Ah, you noticed? It's actually because the shampoo I've been using is rather unimpressive. The one I got from Abel felt a little more moisturizing."

"Fear not, milady!" said Anne as she reached into an inner pocket and dug around for a bit before producing a small bottle. "See? I made sure to bring some for you."

"My! How terribly thoughtful of you, Anne! What would I do without you?"

Mia took the bottle from Anne, held it up like a trophy, and broke out into a delighted sequence of skips and twirls. Then she committed the unspeakable...

"When this battle is over, I'm going to soak in a bath to my heart's content!"

In war, the last thing you should ever talk about is what you're going to do when it's over. So cosmic karma did its thing.

"Oh, I can already imagine how wonderful it's going to— Eh?"

Her last twirl didn't seem to end. Where firm ground should have been to catch her landing, she found nothing but the gaping maw of an unilluminated stairway.

"Gyaaaaaaaaaaah!"

She tumbled down the stairs into the dark underground. The world turned into a dizzying spiral. She fell and fell until a hard thud — along with the crack of something fragile being shattered — signaled the end of her descent.

"U-Ughhh... I feel so sick," she muttered as she tried to regain her bearings.

Suddenly, she noticed the presence of another person.

"Well, well, if it isn't Her Highness Princess Mia. It's an honor to be graced by your presence."

The man who went by the name of Jem was looking down at her with a wide, wolfish grin.