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| ===Chapter 18 - ===
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| Kaede was aghast as she trekked into the wasteland north of town.
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| She had seen the mushroom cloud on her way back, its dispersing smoke clouding out the afternoon sun. She had requested to scout ahead with her Rangers. But despite her desperate plea -- or perhaps because of it -- Lady Vivienne had denied her the privilege and gave the mission to another.
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| It had taken every bit of Kaede's willpower to stay in formation with the detachment returning from Lysardh Point, to not rush ahead and verify with her own eyes just what had Pascal done this time.
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| She had no doubt it was Pascal, likely with help from that jewelry box of his. She hadn't forgotten his burnt hair and disheveled image from three days ago when he returned after testing out some 'Wunderwaffe' spell of his. Combine this with the audacity he had already shown with experimental spells when summoning her, it created a dangerous situation where a prodigious mage could unleash devastation far beyond his control.
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| Kaede had to remind herself that any sufficiently large explosion could produce a mushroom cloud. After all, Hyperion magic was limited to either natural phenomenons that they can visualize, or sciences based on Newtonian physics which they actually understood. They could channel the elements and synthesize chemicals for powerful fuel-air explosions. But to cross the realm into quantum physics?
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| The thought was absurd.
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| ''Surely, not even Pascal could mimic a thermonuclear weapon.''
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| ...Or so she had thought, until she saw the battleground for herself.
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| Her first shock came as she met the moving trees that patrolled the woods like elephant herds. Even the latest dispatches from Glywysing could not prepare her for their nonsensical sight. Crawling across the land on four sturdy 'legs' that seemed too short for their massive body, the animated plants paid no attention to the stunned men and women of the Lotharin battlegroup.
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| Yet... as they lumbered off into the distance, Kaede heard horrified screams just before several trees slammed their limbs onto the ground. It soon dawned upon her that somehow, these moving trees could discern friend from foe as they cleaned up stragglers retreating from the battlefield.
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| But even that wasn't as alien as when the forest abruptly ended, leaving the town of Glywysing with almost a four kilopace radius of cleared ground. Large pits surrounded by uprooted earth displayed where those walking trees had come from, as though an entire forest of tens -- no, hundreds of thousands -- had suddenly decided to migrate.
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| There was, however, one exception...
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| To the north of town, entire sections of the forest simply vanished, leaving behind only a blackened, lifeless ground. Countless dead men and horses laid amidst a field of broken trees further east -- thousands of branch-less, burned-out husks swept to one side by a fiery blast from the northwest.
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| Unable to contact Pascal through telepathy, Kaede handed off command to Sergeant Gaspard and swiftly made her way north around the edge of town. The streets awash with corpses left by the vicious urban combat, its air saturated by the nauseous smell of blood and guts. Soldiers and citizens alike worked nonstop to cart the dead off to mass burial pits dug just outside the town. But as the skies glowed with the reddish-orange of dusk, Kaede doubted they would even come close to finishing today.
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| Then, as she stepped beyond Glywysing's northern perimeter, the terrain changed into that of an apocalyptic wasteland.
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| Strips of blackened ground stretched into the distance where they connected with entire fields of scorched earth. The trees that once stood there had been reduced to charred stumps, the buildings to low walls and rubble. The air was still warm and smelled of burning dirt and flesh. Yet within this nauseating atmosphere, several platoons of soldiers accompanied by medics worked nonstop to look for survivors while bringing the dead to wagons.
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| One of these wagons was nearby, and one look upon its content left Kaede almost retching. A tangle of blackened limbs stiffened by rigor mortis protruded from the mass of burned out husks, corpses so disfigured that they hardly even looked 'human'.
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| But even that wasn't the worst sight. In the distance, her familiar-boosted vision could spot rows of deep shadows etched across what were once dirt roads. These haunting images marked the final positions of marching army columns -- hundred, perhaps even thousands of men who were instantly vaporized by an intense fireball.
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| ''Pascal... just what have you done?''
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| Kaede's lips were ajar. Her mouth and eyes quivered nonstop. Her arms and fingers trembled without end. Her stiff legs carried her across the land in zombie-like fashion, while a slow trickle of tears pooled into her gaze.
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| Three years ago, Kaede couldn't sleep for two days after visiting the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. Now, she wasn't sure if she could ever sleep again.
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| ''Just what have I told you to 'inspire' this...?''
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| Try as she might, Kaede couldn't remember saying anything that would have led down this horrifying path. Sure, she had mentioned the atomic bombs to Pascal. She even gave him a shorthand description of fusion in a conversation about forces in the universe. But she ''couldn't'' have given him any details about the function of an atomic bomb. It was simply impossible when she herself didn't understand the quantum mechanics necessary to produce a thermonuclear reaction.
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| Yet the reality was undeniable. ''Somehow'' Pascal had not only made it work, but also released the explosion in a mostly conic blast. Now, Kaede stood overlooking the result -- a land of death rippling out from the 'ground zero' of what was clearly a multi-kiloton detonation.
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| A painful cry to the southwest fell into a gurgling sound, and Kaede turned to the line of aid tents marked by crucifixes in Samaran-blood-red. She could hear the endless groaning of injured troops, while a breeze carried over not the smell of bloody surgery, but the pungent odor of vomit.
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| ''How could I have forgotten...!?'' She thought as a horrifying realization dawned.
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| Kaede almost tripped as she dashed forward. Her legs stumbled as she ran, but she didn't care as she made her way to the nearest tent.
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| Rows of Lotharin soldiers laid on the stretchers and blankets that covered the ground. Some of them vomited to the side as blood dripped from their noses. Others sported what seemed an intense sunburn on their faces except with chunks of skin already sloughing off. Batches of human hair could be seen scattered across the ground, and even the nauseating smell of diarrhea wafted across the air as some soldiers, too exhausted to stay conscious, simply soiled themselves.
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| She didn't recognize all of the symptoms, but some of them were definitely signs of acute radiation poisoning.
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| The medical staff could only analyze and care for the soldiers as best as they could. Kaede could hear the casting phrases of ''Invigorate'' and even ''Regeneration'' spells. It was clear as day that the healers were baffled by the symptoms and had no idea what they were dealing with.
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| "Healer!" Kaede accosted the nearest one she could find. She grabbed him by the shirt as her frantic words spilled out: "You have to move these people, these tents further away from the battlefield! Otherwise the radiation will...!"
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| "Ho-shasen?" The man replied, hardly even pronouncing the word that Kaede spilled forth in plain Japanese.
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| Her eyes went wide as she realized the implication, the possibility that she should have considered from the start:
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| Hyperion had no concept of what 'radiation' even was.
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| "Kaede?"
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| An unfamiliar voice came from behind, and Kaede turned to face an unfamiliar Lotharin noblewoman flanked by armigers.
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| "You're Kaede, the familiar of Landgrave Pascal, correct?" She asked again, before receiving a slight nod. "The Princess sent word that if you returned, you are to immediately report to her in the main camp."
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| There was something about her scowl that expressed a clear disapproval for the familiar girl.
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| "Are you the commander here?" Kaede inquired.
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| "I am in charge of these few tents, yes."
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| "Then please, you ''have to'' move these tents further away from the battlefield!"
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| The noblewoman stared back. For a moment she seemed nonplussed, but as the seconds dragged on a growing ire returned to her gaze:
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| "Look, I don't know what you ''think'' you know, but your master's stunt today has already killed hundreds of my countrymen, including ''my cousin''. Many of these men simply cannot afford to be moved until they recover some."
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| "But--!"
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| "Carole," The lady turned impatiently to one of her subordinates. "Take her to Her Highness."
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| "Yes Milady," the female armiger bowed lightly before seizing Kaede's arm.
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| "Wait... please, Milady!" Kaede was almost yelling as she was being dragged off. "You ''have to'' move them further away or even more lives will be put at risk!"
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| It didn't please Kaede at all that she was somehow the one being sent to safety. In her opinion, there was no one more deserving of the radiation than herself for revealing what should ''never'' have been told to Pascal.
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| <nowiki>----- * * * -----</nowiki>
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| "...Your Highness," the senior healer, Sir Ariel, faced Sylviane as he explained in exasperation. "We've already healed most of his burns, repaired his rib cage, and stopped his internal bleeding -- all as you requested. Yes, he still has broken bones under stasis that we could mend. But how would that help?"
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| "''How would it help!?''" the Princess lashed back with distress written across her face. "Shall I break your arm and see if it hurts!?"
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| Sylviane didn't care for the disappointed gaze from the elderly healer with salt-and-pepper hair. All she thought of was how her father should never have knighted this man. He clearly couldn't act with the professionalism expected of his kind.
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| Lying on the bed inside his cabin, Pascal had been cleaned up from the blackened mess they first found him in. But even after healing his severe burns, his skin remained an inconsistent red, with small patches of flesh and hair coming loose at a time as though he was a scale-shedding lizard.
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| Only two attending medics and a junior healer monitored Pascal's condition right now. Sylviane's phoenix Hauteclaire also perched on the bed's headboard, his soothing aura radiating outwards to keep the atmosphere an ideal temperature.
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| "His Grace's body is beginning to degrade at a cellular level," the healer spoke solemnly. "At this rate, we'll be seeing multiple organ failures within the next two hours. And currently, we don't even know ''why'' it's happening!"
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| "I don't want to hear your excuses!" she snarled back. "Find out why! That is ''your job''!"
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| Sir Ariel and the Princess were so caught up in their argument that they didn't even hear the cabin door open.
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| "Your Highness, we have nearly a thousand patients out there with milder symptoms of the same illness. ''Of course'' I intend to find a cure!" The man looked insulted. "But I cannot do so by wasting my time and ether on a mur... on a body that is already so damaged and it is likely hopeless!"
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| Sylviane was certain that Ariel was about to call Pascal a 'murderer'. But before she had the chance to act on it...
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| "Hopeless?" Kaede stood in the doorway, her fearful eyes bouncing from Pascal's still form, to the pair who were arguing, to the half dozen medical staff who remained quiet in the background.
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| Sir Ariel clearly recognized Kaede at a glance. His gaze softened with pity and remorse:
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| "His body is starting to break down. Without even any idea of what this illness is, I'm afraid there's little we can do for him."
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| In other words, ''you're about to follow your master into death.''
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| Sylviane's fingers clenched as she felt an overwhelming urge to executed him.
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| But before she could say anything, the familiar added five words that surprised them all:
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| "I know what it is."
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| The Princess' eyes bulged as she immediately swiveled to face Kaede.
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| "You do?"
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| "Not in great detail," the Samaran girl admitted. "I'm fairly certain that whatever Pascal did, he unknowingly released a radiation wave. There have been many cases of this... illness, in my country during the last war, so I've read the basics. His body is breaking down because the radiation's ionizing effects have damaged his cellular DNA, leading to large scale deaths among his body's tissue cells."
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| 'Radiation', 'DNA' -- Kaede was suddenly sprouting nonsense words that Sylviane had never even heard of. With one look at the healer, it was clear that he didn't know them either.
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| A frantic sense of helplessness rapidly encroached into Kaede's rose-quartz gaze. But even as the girl faced her own approaching death, her eyes still darted around in thought, looking for an inspiration, an answer.
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| "Then how about... do you know what Cancer is?"
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| "The disease that causes tumors?"
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| It was a younger healer from the back who blurted out, and Kaede took a moment to think before nodding.
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| Sylviane turned back to the Sir Ariel, who replied:
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| "No one has ever nailed down the cause, but we do understand the disease enough to treat it."
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| "You can!?" the Samaran girl's eyes widened to saucers.
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| "The ''Regeneration'' spell works by stimulating the body's natural repair process, accelerating tissue growth by several magnitudes," he explained. "Therefore it's crucial that there are built-in safeguards to identify healthy cells while terminating diseased ones. Once the tumor is removed by surgery, a prolonged treatment of daily ''Regeneration'' spells will gradually purge the illness from the body, ensuring no repeats."
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| Kaede stood amazed, and for a brief moment her lips simply hanged open in midair.
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| "Well? Can you help him then?" Sylviane stared between Kaede and Sir Ariel, irritated by her own helplessness.
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| "We might be able to use ''Regeneration'' to treat this illness," the Samaran girl stared at Pascal's red face. "I'd assume that the cellular DNA damage from radiation poisoning would be much more widespread. But there should still be ''some'' cells which are either healthy or able to self-repair. If the ''Regeneration'' spell could latch onto that... then you should be able to heal him."
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| "But," the junior healer cut in again. "''Regeneration'' is a bio-alchemy spell and thus have a minimalistic effect on mages. It's why lost appendages for us are far more permanent than for commoners. There's no telling how many..."
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| The young man hadn't even finished before Kaede rolled up her sleeves and pulled off her long gloves.
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| "Take as much as you need," she offered her bared forearm with a determined gaze. "Not only is my blood Samaran, but I also carry his ether. You might just be able to work a miracle."
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| Normally, mages cannot use the ether refined by another soul to craft spells. But just like other natural metamages like phoenixes, any magic naturally integrated into Samaran blood also seems to ignore this rule.
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| "No. I cannot allow this--!"
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| Sir Ariel put his proverbial foot down.
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| "Just how many ''Regeneration'' castings do you think it would take? How many others could we have saved with all the blood you're risking on this gamble? We should be healing our own--"
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| Ariel hadn't even finished before the fuming Princess grabbed him by the collar. Pushing him back with all the strength her exhausted body could muster, she slammed him against the cabin wall.
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| "Listen, you ungrateful bastard. ''I don't care'' how many castings it takes! Pascal wagered everything he had, including his life, to support us in this war! Only the last second sabotage of the Cataliyans made his spell lose control! I will not have some ''rear-echelon bigot'' like you accuse him out of ignorance!"
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| Sylviane hardly cared that the words pouring out of her mouth was an outright lie. She knew that Pascal most likely just lost control of an unfamiliar spell. But given the lack of information that Sir Cailean was able to gather when she sent him to investigate, it was doubtful that any proof had survived to challenge her version.
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| "--I expect you to do your best in treating him! Because if he dies tonight, then I will have you hanged for criminal negligence!"
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| The Princess wasn't even threatening. Her words rang with the finality of an ultimatum, spoken and reinforced with a death glare.
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| She never saw the mixed reaction as Kaede scowled behind her.
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| On any other day, the familiar might have considered objecting against such blatant abuse of power. But with Pascal's life on the line? She merely addressed the stunned medical staff in her kind, wispy voice:
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| "Just so you understand what's at stake -- if Pascal dies, then I will also pass onto the next life. And it is clear to me that I'm the only one here with any understanding of what this illness even is."
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| At the time, neither of them realized just what an effective combination they made.
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| <nowiki>----- * * * -----</nowiki>
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| Sylviane was still fuming as she strode away from Pascal's cabin.
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| ''That short-sighted, arrogant, racist, moronic piece of...''
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| She would have liked to stay in Pascal's cabin, to oversee the healers as they performed their work. But as the Crown Princess and commander of this army -- or what little of it that remained -- she had her own duties to attend to.
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| Part of her couldn't help but feel envious of Kaede. In a time when Pascal hanged on the precipice between life and death, it was ''his fiancée'' who should be sitting by his side and grasping his hand. But instead, not only was Sylviane useless in providing assistance, but she couldn't even stay with him.
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| Nevertheless, she was glad that the Samaran girl had returned. If Pascal recovers, then there would be no doubt that they owe a great debt to the familiar girl.
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| ''No, I need to stop thinking like that,'' Sylviane childed herself. ''It's as Pascal said -- there is no debt because we help each other, because we're family.''
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| With Elspeth in tow, Sylviane took some deep, calming breaths as she strode across the inner camp towards a great, towering oak.
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| It was the only tree that remained in what had once been a wooded Lotharin encampment.
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| Well... 'remained' wasn't exactly correct. It had grown legs and walked off just like its other brethren, only to return after the battle and root itself back in. Even now, Sylviane could still see the trunk's four way split, just before its 'legs' buried into the ground.
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| The perpetrator for all this now sat in its lowest branch -- a middle-aged lady caressing a bright-blue phoenix with golden jewels on its tail.
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| ''Courtain, the lost phoenix,'' Sylviane sighed. ''So much for it being lost.''
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| As a young girl being groomed as the Crown Princess, Sylviane had to memorize the lineages of all five royal families in the Empire, as well as the succession lines of all twelve Oriflamme Paladins. Unlike the other phoenixes, Courtain had only been summoned once in all of Rhin-Lotharingie history.
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| Her master was Gwendolyn -- the Princess Consort who deposed of her Imperial-puppet husband, joined the rebellion to become the first Queen of a new Ceredigion, and later abdicated in favor of her son.
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| Family legends had it that she and the first Emperor, Louis the Bold, had also been lovers. But it remained a secret because Gwendolyn... was a heathen.
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| "Your Majesty," Sylviane bowed lightly.
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| Technically, she outranked a former queen like Gwendolyn. But facing a woman who should be dead centuries ago yet returned to rout an army, it was better to be respectful than be sorry.
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| "Hello Princess," Gwendolyn pushed herself off the branch and landed with the catlike graces expected of most Faekissed. "You don't mind if I call you Sylv, do you? I was quite close to your Great-Great-Grandfather Louis."
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| ''Should have expected this from her kind.'' Sylviane sighed before forcing a slight smile:
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| "Of course not."
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| Gwendolyn should be nearly three centuries old, yet the woman standing before Sylviane still had the appearance of a commoner in her late-thirties. She stood at around the same height, with long brown locks flowing freely down thin shoulders. Her face was a bit long to fit the conventional standards of beauty. But her skin was fair, her eyes a bright spring-green, and her thin lips naturally curled in a teasing smile. Her ankle-length dress seemed too simple -- green and white with only golden strings embroidered near the edges. However there was no doubt of its fabric quality or that of her cashmere shawl.
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| "I thought you were dead?" Sylviane spoke as she stayed her distance. But even at a distance of just five paces, the Princess could feel her nose itching as fresh pollen drifted through the air between them.
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| ''I hate dealing with Springborn.''
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| "The exact words in all the official records state that I... 'left this world with a broken heart'," Gwendolyn's smile turned melancholic. "I would know. I cast the spell to rewrite all of them myself."
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| Sylviane scowled. ''That's got to be illegal somewhere.''
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| "I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but how are you still alive?" She asked next.
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| Gwendolyn simply shrugged.
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| "Once I started journeying between worlds, mortality just... seemed to lose its meaning."
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| "Then why did you not help us?" Sylviane's irritation rose. "You're an Oriflamme sworn to the defense of Rhin-Lotharingie, are you not? How could you just forsake your vows and desert your country like that? Vanish for entire centuries?"
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| Her demanding tone soon escalated into anguish. Fury blazed in the Princess' gaze as she realized just how differently events could have unfolded, if only this woman had returned sooner.
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| "Why couldn't you have returned at the start of the war? Why couldn't you have done so a month, or even a week ago? You could have saved tens of thousands of people!"
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| ''...Pascal, Robert, Mari, and maybe even Lindsay and Father!''
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| Water pooled into the Princess' eyes once more as she thought of all the loved ones burned by the callous flames of war.
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| "''Why now''!?"
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| Gwendolyn's smile had vanished. Her long face held only a stiff expression, as though declaring 'it couldn't be helped.'
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| "I'm no longer just a Queen or a Paladin. Those days are forever gone," she spoke sadly. "I'm a Worldwalker now, and unless I wish to plunge the world into further chaos, I must follow the rules of being one."
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| "Stop talking in riddles! You're not making any sense!" The Princess almost yelled as warm tears began to slip down her cheeks.
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| ''Your Highness, you should consider taking a rest. You're emotionally exhausted.''
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| Even now, Sylviane could still almost hear Mari's telepathic voice. Like any good lady's maid, Mari knew how to blend into the background and thus rarely spoke. But when she did, she always gave private advice like the older sister that Sylviane never had.
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| Closing the distance in swift steps, Gwendolyn wrapped her arm around the younger girl and pulled her into a tight embrace. For a moment Sylviane struggled. But as the grip grew tighter, the Princess remembered that Gwendolyn was also once a sovereign who lost family and loved ones on the battlefield.
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| "A mother may slap a neighbor for bullying her children. But a Queen who retaliates could bring war upon her entire realm," the older woman explained. "You saw what I did today, Sylv. What do you think would happen if a group of immortal archmages, each as powerful or even more so than myself, began a war over their respective homelands across the world?"
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| The first thought that came to Sylviane's mind was the massive fireball that covered a quarter of the morning skies, except multiplied a thousand-fold and stretching across the world.
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| "Ah--ahh--"
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| Gwendolyn must have thought she was wailing, as the older woman began rubbing the back of her head. But as the itch in Sylviane's nose grew past her limit, she couldn't help but sneeze into the former queen's bosom.
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| Thankfully, the centuries-old ruler released her and cleaned them both, otherwise the Princess would have had her face pressed into her own snot.
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| "Then... how long will you be allowed to remain?" The Princess rubbed her nose as she slowly calmed down.
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| "Two days," Gwendolyn raised her fingers. "One for every century that I haven't interfered."
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| The gears immediately began to churn in Sylviane's head. Just how much could they take advantage of an immortal archmage's presence and turn the tide of war in two days' time?
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| "...And I cannot leave the borders of Ceredigion," the woman added.
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| ''Then not much,'' Sylviane's face fell, disappointed. After all, most of the Caliphate's troops were still in Avorica and Garona.
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| "Please tell me you have more of a plan than just annihilating one army," she pleaded.
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| ...And Gwendolyn, for the first time, returned a broad smile:
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| "I'm glad to see that your don't think in short-term gains either," her eyes flickered with approval. "You see, I had began planning for this ever since I heard the story of how another Worldwalker's interference left a lasting legacy that still protects her homeland today. Of course, each Worldwalker has a unique set of magical expertises, so copying another's work is almost impossible.
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| "So Sylv, do you remember what my nicknames are?"
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| Sylviane pressed her fingers against her chin.
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| One of Gwendolyn's nicknames was the ''Faerie Sword''. She was an exemplary swordswoman, but also said to be a Faekissed with so much otherworldly blood that she couldn't stand the touch of metal. This drove her into excavating and studying the artifacts of the Faerie Lords. The Crysteel ''Faerie Plate'' armor that Sylviane wore right now was one of the results, along with the spells used to control the Faerie Rings that had brought Weichsel reinforcements to this front.
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| ''But she said 'nicknames','' the Autumnborn Princess thought. ''Were there any others?''
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| Two words fell out of her mental archive after several moments of searching. But she couldn't remember the what they meant; the story attached to them had been lost.
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| "The ''Faerie Sword''... and ''Arboreal Sanctum''," Sylviane replied before raising her head upwards, her eyes staring at the giant oak tree.
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|
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| An 'arboreal sanctum' certainly described the wooded realm of Ceredigion. But what did it mean for an individual?
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|
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| "Right," Gwendolyn nodded. "I had three specializations in magic -- fae lore, druidic sorcery, and extradimensional artifice. Years of research into the first two resulted in the spell you witnessed earlier today."
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|
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| ''You can't mean...'' Sylviane blinked back at Gwendolyn. "Just how long will the trees stay this way?"
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|
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| "Oh I'm afraid they're not in some temporary, magically-animated state," the Worldwalker's grin grew wider. "I fundamentally altered them to create several newly awakened species."
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|
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| Extending both hands outwards, Gwendolyn spun backwards as though dancing, until she stood beneath the branches of the giant oak.
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|
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| "Sylv, I present to you your newest ''subjects'' -- the Migrating Trees of Ceredigion!"
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|
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| Sylviane's chin dropped and froze as the giant tree's trunk groaned, bending slightly as though bowing to her.
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|
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| "Not only are they powerful and enduring, but they can produce a potent neurotoxin that may be used against foes. I'll teach you how to communicate with them later tonight, so that your descendants may always coexist in mutual cooperation and peace."
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| <nowiki>----- * * * -----</nowiki>
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|
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| Kaede felt like she was about to fall unconscious at any moment.
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|
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| Laying still besides Pascal, her body was exhausted that she could barely keep her eyes open. Her lips stayed ajar to allow her weak lungs enough air. Her mind was enshrouded in a fog that made even thinking difficult.
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|
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| ...Yet this was still better than a few hours ago, as the healers' ''Invigorate'' spells worked their slow magic while Hauteclaire continued his soothing song.
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|
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| Nevertheless, hints of a smile shadowed her pale lips as two consoling thoughts drifted across her mind:
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| One was Sir Ariel's promise that the 'operation' was successful and that Pascal would at least live, assuming continued ''Regeneration'' treatments.
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|
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| The other was his order dispatch that all aid tents and their patients be moved further west to leave the radioactive fallout zone.
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|
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| ...It wouldn't be until tomorrow when Kaede received a note from Gwendolyn, stating that that radiation was what more advanced civilizations would call a 'neutron burst', and therefore wouldn't contaminate the land.
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|
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| In the meantime, the sun had long fallen, and only darkness could be seen through the windows in this cloudy night. The healers and staff had mostly departed, leaving only a medic to watch over Pascal and his familiar.
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|
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| Kaede hardly even registered the sound of the cabin door creaking open. The Samaran girl only registered Sylviane's presence when the young medic bolted to her feet.
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|
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| "How is he?" the Princess collapsed into a chair, exhausted.
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|
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| "Sir Ariel said that His Grace should at least make it through. With further ''Regeneration'' treatments, he should be able to recover in time. Although it would be best if he was kept comatose for at least three more days to help his body heal."
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|
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| Sylviane's head drooped as she breathed a deep sigh of relief.
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|
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| "So he'll make a full recovery in time then?"
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|
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| "Not... quite..." The medic's voice turned timid.
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|
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| "I'm not going to bite the messenger," the Princess sent an annoyed stare. "Get to the point."
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| The young girl swallowed.
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|
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| "His Grace's hands and arms had been seriously damaged by... the back-blast, or whatever this 'radiation' thing is. The skin and muscles will heal, but as you know... we have trouble regenerating ether-conductive nerves once a critical damage limit is reached. Sir Ariel believes that His Grace's sense of touch will never fully return to normal. It's possible that his arms and even legs may stay numb for the rest of his life. But of course..." she glanced at Kaede, "we're working under new conditions here.
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|
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| "Furthermore, his facial nerves also suffered severe damage, particularly to his eyes. By the same token, we don't know if his eyesight will ever recover. He will be blind when he wakes up, and there is a high possibility that it will stay that way."
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| "You're joking," Sylviane added in a menacing tone.
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| The medic almost squeaked. It was obvious she was too scared to even contemplate humor.
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| "Have faith... Milady," Kaede barely muttered, her wispy words squeezed out between shallow breaths. "I'm sure... that my blood... can work another miracle. Until then... he can borrow... my eyes."
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| The transplanted Samaran did grow up in Russia after all, and an almost fatalistic chuckle emerged from her mouth:
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| "I'm sure... he'll look good... in sunglasses."
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| Sylviane blinked, clearly not knowing what Kaede even meant. Then, she exhaled a long breath as she turned to the medic.
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|
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| "Is that all?" She asked before receiving a hasty nod. "Then leave us. I'll keep watch over him tonight."
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| The young girl didn't wait another second. She rushed an awkward curtsy before fleeing the room.
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| As the door closed, Sylviane let go of an even longer sigh before pulling her chair up besides Kaede.
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|
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| "Do I really scare people that much?" She asked, mostly to herself.
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|
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| "Do you want... an honest answer?" Kaede smiled a little.
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| It wasn't that the Princess had a scary face or anything. But she could summon a real, royal temper at times, and anyone who was both intelligent and values their own head would tread carefully.
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| Though for Kaede... there had never been a better opportunity than to speak the truth now.
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| "Thank you, Kaede," Sylviane's gaze shimmered in the dim light as she grasped the smaller girl's hand. "For being here, for everything you've done for him today... thank you so much."
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| The Princess brought the familiar's pale, cold hand to her cheeks, just as a single, shining tear slid out. Kaede could feel the warm wetness of the droplet, as though proof of just how earnest Sylviane truly was.
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| "Pascal always said... we're family... aren't we?" Kaede whispered out.
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| Another tear fell as the Princess heartily nodded.
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| "Yes, yes! We are!"
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|
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| Guilt formed in her wisteria gaze even as an adoration for the smaller girl bloomed.
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|
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| "I'm really, truly sorry for how I've treated you up until now."
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|
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| Kaede's smile took on a forgiving note. Her relationship with Sylviane had certainly been rocky up to this point.
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| She wasn't naive though. She knew that whatever Sylviane felt now, there would always be occurrences in the future where royal jealousy would manifest once more. But if Mari and Robert's dedication for the Princess were any indication, Sylviane was also a girl who knew how to repay kindness in spades. As long as Kaede didn't overstep enough to lose her head, she should always be able to recover by leveraging their special relationship through Pascal.
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|
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| "Friends?" Kaede took the opportunity to ask.
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|
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| "More than that..." Sylviane nodded, before sounding tentative herself. "Sisters?"
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|
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| Kaede grinned as widely as her exhausted cheek muscles would allow.
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|
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| "I'm still your senior though," Sylviane didn't forget to lay down the pecking order. "So you have to listen to me, understood?"
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|
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| "Yes Milady... Onee-chan."
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| Kaede was certain that her words simply translated to something bland like 'my dear elder sister'. But even if Sylviane never understood the fondness embedded in those Japanese words, it sent a reassuring warmth through her body just to say it out loud.
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| <nowiki>----- * * * -----</nowiki>
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| Kaede fell asleep for a few hours after that. But when she awoke, Sylviane was still awake, sitting on Pascal's side this time as she overlooked them both.
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|
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| "Milady... Onee-chan, shouldn't you get some sleep?"
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|
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| "No..." The Princess sighed. "Let me at least feel like I'm doing what a fiancée should."
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|
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| Kaede had no doubt that once the sun rises, Sylviane would have to leave Pascal again as she went off managing official business. Over the past week, it was mostly Pascal who managed the army's organization, while the Princess focused on political matters. But with him down and out, the workload on her suddenly doubled.
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|
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| "I can help tomorrow, you know," Kaede muttered. "I may not be a prodigy like Pascal, but I did learn a few things from him."
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|
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| The Princess picked up her chair in the barely visible darkness and dragged it around the bed, back to Kaede's side.
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|
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| "I'm sure you can," her reply was earnest. "Pascal certainly seems to find your advice useful. But I'd be more comfortable if at least one of us stayed with him.
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|
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| "Besides... I doubt your anemia will recover in just a few days, especially when the healers would no doubt request more blood for the ''Regeneration'' treatments."
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|
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| Kaede nodded silently. She knew she should prepare herself to be mostly bedridden for a while.
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|
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| "Though... there is something you can do for me," Sylviane added before pointing her casting glove to turn on the overhead light crystal.
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|
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| The Princess opened her extradimensional pockets and began rummaging in them.
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|
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| "Sir Robert left you something, and with Pascal down and out, it's time I bring you into this council..."
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|
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| ''Left me... something?''
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|
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| It was only then that Kaede realized:
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|
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| "What happened to him? And Mari?"
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|
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| Sylviane's body instantly froze.
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|
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| Her quivering eyes were a bright red and ringed by shadows. At first, Kaede thought it was just sleep deprivation. But as the Princess' shoulders trembled yet her eyes barely moistened, Kaede realized that Sylviane had been crying again... silent, alone, and in the darkness, until she ran out of tears.
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|
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| ''She wasn't sleeping... because she can't sleep.''
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|
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| It was the survivors' guilt that Kaede knew all too well.
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|
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| Exerting her arms' strength, the familiar slowly propped herself to sit up on the bed. But as soon as she leaned over to giver her elder sister a hug, her muscles gave away and she collapsed onto Sylviane's shoulders.
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|
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| "It's okay," Kaede nevertheless soothed. "You can cry aloud. It'll make you feel better."
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|
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| "But you don't understand! I don't ''deserve'' to feel better!" The Princess' volume nevertheless began to climb.
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|
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| "They died, protecting me! For ME! Taking blows that ''should have struck me!''"
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|
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| "...and they were glad to do it, if it meant that you could live," Kaede whispered without any doubt.
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|
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| "But they shouldn't have had to! They wouldn't have! If only I hadn't been so mule-headed and saw reason! I could have called a retreat! Yet I didn't... ''I couldn't''... because I wouldn't GIVE UP THE STUPID THRONE!"
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|
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| Kaede tried to tighten her arms. Without any strength left in them, she could only settle for slowly rubbing the back on Sylviane's head.
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|
| |
| "And that... is where you're wrong," she added as Sir Robert's sunny, heartwarming smile came to mind.
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|
| |
| Even by the end, Kaede didn't know Mari that well. But she knew Robert. Even if he was kind of selfish and unreasonable at times, she still liked the gallant knight who would do everything in his power for the benefit of his country, his liege.
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|
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| "Mari and Robert would gladly give their lives to see you on the throne. Of that, I am ''absolutely certain''," Kaede declared. "Now, it is your job to see that they did not die in vain. To retake the throne and rule the Empire with a righteous hand, so that their souls in Heaven may take pride and rest in peace."
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|
| |
| For a few moments Sylviane's body simply trembled. Then, as the Princess let loose an animal-like cry that rapidly grew into an ear-piercing wail, it was Kaede who shuddered and forced herself to keep hugging.
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|
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|
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|
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| <nowiki>----- * * * -----</nowiki>
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|
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|
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| Outside, Edith-Estellise shed a bittersweet tear as she leaned her head back against cabin wall.
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|
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| Lady Estelle had been taking a midnight patrol of the camp when she found Elspeth guarding outside Landgrave Pascal's cabin with her head drooping. It wasn't really surprising; the Summerborn were passionate, but their high metabolism also made for a poor endurance, especially after such an exhausting day. With the possible danger that a shattered Cataliyan army fragments might still raid the camp, Edith dismissed Elspeth -- with a little convincing and much insistence -- before taking up guard herself.
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|
| |
| The cabin was almost soundproof, and Edith never heard the conversations that went on inside. But Sylviane's sorrowful wail was so loud even the enchantments failed to completely block it.
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|
| |
| The Crusader Saint was sympathetic, of course. Every noble worthy of their rank had lost close companions and loved ones today.
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|
| |
| But more than that, she was glad.
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|
| |
| No, she wasn't happy that Sylviane was suffering. But instead, she took reassurance that the Princess could feel such deep, personal pain.
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|
| |
| Edith had already learned from the good healers that the Landgrave's life had been saved. His familiar had apparently came up with a way to save those dying from that ruinous spell. Though due to the high costs of ''Regeneration'' and their limited magical resources, hundreds of those afflicted would likely still die.
| |
|
| |
| Perhaps His Grace should be held accountable. But Edith believed such judgment was premature. The chaos of the battlefield meant anything could happen, especially to the casting process of complex archmage spells. It was evident his goal was to wipe out the infidel attack wave with a conic blast, except something even he was unprepared for had happened.
| |
|
| |
| Regardless, this meant that Sylviane had no need for cry over her fiancée. Then whom else would she be wailing over, if not for her guards and soldiers?
| |
|
| |
| A sovereign who truly cared for the lives of her subordinates -- that was rarer than her weight in diamonds and gold.
| |
|
| |
| It was yet another sign that Edith had made the right choice during last morning's aborted coup.
| |
|
| |
| ''Thank you again, Holy Father,'' she looked up into the cloudy skies, wondering yet again just how mysterious the Lord's ways truly were.
| |
|
| |
| ''And thank you for saving us all today.''
| |
|
| |
| Edith had met the Worldwalker named Gwendolyn. Heathen or not, her respectful bow before the Cross of Hyperion showed that she respected the Holy Father, and no doubt came to Rhin-Lotharingie's aid as an extension of his omnipotent will.
| |
|
| |
| Kneeling down onto the hard, frosty ground, Edith-Estellise put her hands together in a barely audible prayer:
| |
|
| |
| "I vow before you, Holy Father, that I will not rest until Her Highness -- your chosen Empress -- is upon the throne."
| |
|
| |
| Closing her eyes, she felt a tear of joyous certainty, of a beautiful pride slid down her cheeks.
| |
|
| |
| What better sign was there that it was the ambitious Templars who erred, that it was indeed her father who walked the path of the just.
| |
|
| |
| ''After all,'' Edith considered the secret that she would forever keep to herself.
| |
|
| |
| ''...She is my dear sister.''
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|
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|
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|
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| <nowiki>----- * * * -----</nowiki>
| |