What in the world are we going to do now? Esther thought to herself as she glumly combed the hair hanging over Ion's pale face.
The young man had lost everything, and on top of that, was being pursued as a criminal. Esther was stuck in this foreign land, where there wasn't anybody to rely on. So far from carrying out her duty, she felt like no more than a little girl whose life was in danger.
What in the world should we do now? Esther thought to herself again.
"We'll rest a little while, and move as soon as Count of Memphis can do so," said Abel, as if he were consciously trying to stop the nun's thoughts from heading in an even more negative direction.
Abel stood up nonchalantly, wiping sand off his butt as he sifted through Ion's baggage. As soon as he found a blood-building medicine about the size of a claw, he threw it into a canteen and tossed it over to Esther.
"Esther, please offer His Excellency the Count some Aqua Vitae. While you do that, I'll go investigate this area a bit," said Abel.
"Father, you said, 'move,' but .. ." Esther began, drifting off.
She understood that they couldn't stay here forever. She didn't know anything about the Imperial capital's geography, but she did know their coordinates couldn't be very far from the Duchess of Moldova's mansion. It was possible that they might be pursued and captured at any time.
But where could they go? It wasn't likely that there were any areas of the capital in which foreigners wouldn't be conspicuous.
Abel shook his head decisively. "I might actually have an idea about one god of rescue."
Esther blinked. "God of rescue?" She'd thought that this was the priest's first time in the Imperial capital, just as it was hers, but perhaps that wasn't true after all.
"Yes, but maybe I should say goddess of rescue," said Abel, showing no sign that he was aware of Esther's doubts.
Abel scratched his chin as if a flurry of cold air had tickled it. "She's a little short-tempered and haughty, and I don't know what she'll do if we make her angry. But on this occasion, we can't ask too much. Let's prepare ourselves to see her."
V
"Welcome home, Mistress. Would you like a hot bath, or a meal first?" asked the citizen.
"A hot bath would be good. I only just ate at the Celestial Imperial Palace," Astharoshe answered.
Handing the reins to one of the servants who greeted her, Astharoshe, the Marquise of Kiev, dismounted her favorite horse. After lovingly petting its nose, she passed by her family retainers with a long stride, as they stood respectfully at attention. She had a slim body; long, flowing white hair; and was fairly tall for a woman. But her gait was both strong and graceful, like that of a wild leopard about to hunt.
"By the way, old man, what's today's bath?" asked Astharoshe curtly.
"I've prepared an emulsion of banyan tree. I used water from Beograd," the steward, Chadarli Kara Haril, replied in a polite tone. As the old Terran who'd served the Marquise of Kiev's family for generations followed his mistress's every move, he expertly removed her outer garment, long robe, and dolman from behind. A model citizen, he never forgot to tend to his mistress's feelings, which at this point, seemed to be suspicious of an insect's whereabouts.
"By the way, Mistress, you were very slow to return home today. How were things at the Imperial Palace?" Chadarli asked.
"I accepted Her Majesty's invitation when I arrived. Therefore I'm late," Astharoshe replied.
"Her Majesty's invitation? That's considerate, is it not?" asked Chadarli. The large-framed old Terran twirled his white whiskers as if surprised by his mistress's unenthusiastic answer.
The Marquise of Kiev was a family noted for its lineage in the Empire, but it hadn't been long since the exchange of power took place. As for its current mistress, the young girl, merely seventh rank, was appointed Directly Reporting Chief Inspector. It was quite a stroke of luck that the Empress would give such a title to a girl holding a relatively lowly post.
Cocking his head in surprise about Astharoshe 's title, the wise old man suddenly clapped his hands. "Does it have something to do with the work you did in the Outer a while ago, Mistress?" asked Chadarli.
"Well done, old man. You're exactly right," said Astharoshe with a straight face. After skillfully removing the sash clip at her hip with one hand, she lowered her voice. "An envoy from the Vatican will be arriving soon in the Empire. I was confidentially ordered to look after him."
"An envoy from the Outer?" Chadarli asked. "Well, why is that — "
"I don't know," said Astharoshe, cutting off the citizen sharply.
Chadarli couldn't see her face as she played with the ruby-encrusted sash clip in her fingers, but an aura of displeasure was emanating from her back like steam.
"Her Majesty sent a secret envoy to the Outer a few months ago. He's being accompanied by the Vatican envoy and is scheduled to return within a day or two. My Imperial order this time is to guard him," explained Astharoshe.
"Her Majesty's secret envoy?" Chadarli asked, looking perplexed.
The Outer was a barbaric world. Terrans from other places were ignorant and cruel savages who didn't hesitate to call Methuselahs "vampires ."The Empress who'd sent a secret envoy in the midst of such savages had made a very brave decision. There was something very unusual about the move, however.
While placing a dressing gown over his mistress's shoulders, the old steward whispered bemusedly, "If we're talking about a secret envoy, why wasn't the Imperial decree given to you, Mistress? No matter what you say, you have the most authority among the lords. That — "
"I don't know that," the rarely amiable Astharoshe interjected bluntly. Turning her back on Chadarli with her nose in the air, she added, as if sulking, "It's an important matter of state. Because of that, the Empress probably decided that the load was too heavy for an underling such as I. Regardless, if Her Majesty is being thoughtful, I'm not going to question it."
Although Astharoshe was trying to be diplomatic, it was clear she wasn't happy that this plan had advanced without her knowledge or participation. She'd been in the Outer three years ago, and after she returned, she'd immersed herself too deeply in research about that world. So much so that she earned the nickname "Terran-lover." Her depth of knowledge about the Outer and the Terrans was likely unparalleled among the nobles of her generation. Anyone would understand if there was indignation swirling darkly about her heart. After all, none of her hard work had been recognized.
"Strange, isn't it?" asked the beautiful woman as she halted before a corridor leading to the garden bathroom.
The twilight stained the expanse of the garden sepia.
"What's the matter, Mistress?" asked Chadarli.
Ignoring the old man's concern, The Marquise of Kiev fondled the sash clip. Her amber-hued eyes flashed cautiously as she turned to the voice behind her.
"By the way, old man, are any visitors scheduled for today?" Astharoshe inquired.
"No, there aren't," Chadarli replied. "This week's visitors are expected to be the Viscount of Nicaea tomorrow, and the Count of Tabriz the day after tomorrow. As for today—"
"Hmph! So the group over there are uninvited guests?" asked Astharoshe.
"Huh?" Chadarli replied.
By the time Chadarli answered, his mistress's delicate hand was already waving excitedly. With monstrous strength, she had hurled her sash clip, which landed near a shadow of a Zelkova tree standing next to the fence in a corner of the rear garden. Branches on the towering tree that Chadarli had cared for since his previous master's reign rustled about, but the sash clip disappeared as if absorbed by the tree's green shade. But the clip hadn't actually disappeared.
Somebody trying to sneak into the grounds, over the fence and through the tree branches, received a painful blow to the face and fell to the ground.
"Blargh!" Abel screamed.
"Father!"
It had become clear that there wasn't only one invader. Two small shadows wailed atop the fence, their cat-like screeches overlapping discordantly.
"Th-those people, Mistress?" asked Chadarli, somewhat taken aback.
No sooner did her steward ask did Astharoshe leap out into the corridor. Jumping nearly a hundred feet in three seconds, she drew an ominously flashing saber from her hip. "Don't move, the three of you! This is the Imperial noblewoman Marquise of Kiev's mansion!"
Turning her menacing eyes toward the young man squirming on the ground just below the point of her sword, then to the two people on the fence, the Imperial noblewoman warned, "I hope you're prepared for the results of invading my territory."
The next instant, Astharoshe recognized the man upside down on the ground peering up at the beautiful woman. "Y-you?" she exclaimed.
"Yeah, hi," said Abel. He didn't seem the least bit afraid of the unsheathed sword pointed at his chest. He even giddily waved his hand at Astharoshe. "Long time no see, Ast ... I completely forgot to write. Hahaha!"
Chadarli couldn't stop himself from intervening. "You ruffian!" he shouted, glaring at the intruder who was smiling as if he didn't have a care in the world. "A ruffian who knows this is the mansion of Asran, the Marquise of Kiev, I might add. Come, everyone. There’s a thief! Come!"
"Ahhh, no, it's fine," said Astharoshe, shaking her head. As she returned her sword to its holster, she released an unusually deflated sigh and said, "It's fine, old man. You needn't summon anybody."
"Huh? N-no, but, Mistress ..." said Chadarli.
"I know this guy. It'll be too noisy if you summon anybody. More importantly, may I ask what this means, uninvited guest?" asked Astharoshe.
After quieting her still fretful steward, Astharoshe Asran, the Marquise of Kiev, effortlessly grabbed onto the man scratching his head by the collar as if she had just caught a feral cat wandering in. Breaking into a smile mixed with ill-will and affection, she said, "Don't expect that your manufactured excuses will assuage my doubts like they did three years ago, Abel Nightroad, my partner."
VI
The New Human Empire was the largest and greatest non-human nation in the world. The boyar, or nobles, who were all Methuselahs, controlled the government and military. They were the masters with territories everywhere, and also the highest-class bureaucrats who occupied central posts.
The Duchess of Moldova family were made up of great lords who unified the broad territory from Moldavia, in the northeastern part of the Empire, to Bessarabia. The current head of their family, Mirka Fortuna, Duchess of Moldova, was employed as Chief Privy Counselor, which should be called First Prime Minister. Her grandson, Ion Count of Memphis, was Chief Imperial Sword Bearer and held a post dealing with the kinds of Imperial decrees that belonged to the State Secrets Institution, the Empress's investigation organization. The outfit entrusted the fulfillment of duties under their jurisdiction to other family members of loyal citizens, while they stayed in the Imperial capital on official business.
Noble bureaucrats like the Moldova family had what are called capital-mansions that they used for dwellings in the Imperial capital, or as public offices. That afternoon, it was a beachside capital-mansion where a young guest with flowing blue hair was invited.
"I've gotten the attack documentation confirmed. Thanks for your hard work so soon after returning home, Baron," said the owner.
From the tea pavilion erected in the courtyard, one could enjoy a stellar view of the glistening Halic that lay below the hill. As soon as he drew up the sofa opposite his guest, the owner also sat down -on a gorgeous gold-embroidered cushion. He tossed a sugar cube-sized box — a data storage memory cube — that he removed from his pocket onto the table.
"You killed the Duchess of Moldova, burned down her mansion, and put the blame on her grandson. Honestly, when I first heard of it, I thought it was a plan that was far too involved, but it seems you were able to carry it out splendidly," said the owner.
"I'm pleased. I hope that my work has made up for my many clumsy failures in Carthage," said Radu.
The young guest quietly shook his head. And when he picked up the cube containing image data that the Jaegers had sent from the scene of the assault, there was no sign of pride in his bronze eyes. Holding the transparent cube in his delicate palm, Radu said, "My only regret is that I didn't take the Duchess of Moldova's head. The assassins I sent were unexpectedly useless. If we'd been able to restrain Count of Memphis a little better, I would have brought back her head."
"Those dolls you brought back with you? You shouldn't have relied on Outer things. But that kind of failure is well within the allowable range," said the owner.
Accepting tea brought by an automaton waiter, the owner's meaty lips split into a smile. Fangs, long even by Methuselah standards, poked out his crescent moon-shaped mouth.
"One hour ago, the Palace Guards discovered a burnt body in the ruins that appears to be the Duchess of Moldova: It was burnt black, but DNA analysis has revealed that it's her. A public announcement will probably be made at tonight's conference," said the owner.
"So, step one of the plan is safely finished? The Count of Memphis's movements have been as predicted," reported Radu. The blue-haired Methuselah relaxed his face before placing a hand on the fragrant liquid placed before him. He met the owner's cautious gaze with a sweet smile.
"Yes, tomorrow's conference should be very interesting. When they've learned about Count of Memphis's and the Terrans'—the Vatican 's plot—I wonder how everyone will react. I'm really looking forward to it," said the owner, grinning like a bird of prey. His eyes wandered toward the opposite shore of the Halic.
In contrast to the north coast, which resembled a high-class residential district, the south shore was packed densely with trees that looked like a green carpet from above. Between the trees, sharp spires and grand domes towered here and there.
The Celestial Imperial Palace was where the master of the capital—the person who controlled all of the nobles for eternity—dwelled.
A glimmer shone in the owner's eyes as he studied the palace. "It's already been more than eight hundred years since that person's rule began. At last this time has come. Tomorrow will be the fatal day that decides the future of us and of this nation. I think you must be tired, Baron, but I will have you do one more thing," said the owner.
"I know," said Radu. With a low chuckle, the blue-haired young man slowly closed his hand around the memory cube. A blue-white flame flashed out from between his fingers.
"We must reform the world by fire. If possible, we must bring about a new order in this land with our strength," said the owner.
The Jade Palace
Vengeance is mine.
—Romans 12:19
I
As the dimly shining disc sank beyond the horizon, twilight evolved into night.
The lights that began to illuminate the city where the blue curtain fell resembled a slew of fireflies dancing madly, pledging their love. A quiet, but busy, hum reverberated through the atmosphere, as the sound of horse carriages belonging to nobles visiting the Imperial palace bustled about the main street.
"The day begins at sunset? I'm really not used to that," Esther said with a sigh.
She was already familiar with the Imperial-style time system, which used the spring and autumn sunset as standard midnight time; but she added two hours, because she'd passed through Alexandria and Misr on the way. But that didn't mean her body was used to a lifestyle that reversed day and night. Because she spent her life in Rome getting up at five in the morning and going to bed at ten at night, her activity cycle was about a half day off.