Brave Story (101 page)

To this the emperor frowned and lifted his heavily bejeweled person from the throne, “I understand how you feel, but I must ask you to wait,” he said in a harsh voice.

“Whatever for?”

“This jeweled crown you claim to seek—this is most surely the prized treasure of my family for generations: the Crown of the Seal.”

“The Crown of the Seal?”

“Indeed. It would be most difficult for me to give you this treasure now, you see. For, were I to move the Crown of the Seal from its current resting place, a great calamity would visit our empire. It would rock the very foundation of Vision. The gemstone you seek currently protects Vision from that calamity. Thus is the crown that bears it called the Crown of the Seal—it seals the portal behind which the doom of Vision waits.”

For a good while, Mitsuru found himself in the unfamiliar position of being at a loss for words. At length, he spoke. “Then, what would you have me do? If the gemstone I need must protect Vision from some calamity, how might I ever hope to claim it?”

“No, there is hope. I merely said that it would be difficult to give you the gem now. In fact, there are other ways of preventing this calamity from visiting itself upon us. Or rather, there is one other way. Yet, sadly, the Northern Empire lacks the power to achieve this other method. We require certain materials from the south.”

What’s he babbling about now?

“Only a short while ago…” The emperor sat back down on his throne, a tone of sadness in his voice. “Our empire and the lands of the south were locked in a stalemate, and gathering the necessary materials was nigh well impossible. Oh, to be sure, we tried all means at our disposal, but I was not optimistic about our prospects. But the situation has changed somewhat of late. I do not know every detail, but certain sympathizers with our cause in the south have reported that there are traces showing that something has passed from the south to our lands that will radically change the balance of power in Vision. If I am able to identify and locate this something, we would be able to begin our invasion of the south immediately. With victory assured, it would be easy to acquire the materials we need.

“Perhaps Master Mitsuru knows something of this…”

Mitsuru looked up.
The old coot must know what it is he’s looking for.
You’re playing dumb, trying to get information out of me, aren’t you?

Mitsuru produced the powered-boat designs. “Perhaps you mean this?”

This wasn’t how the exchange was supposed to work.

He handed the blueprints over. The emperor’s joy was evident. “Emissary from the holy land, servant of the gods, I thank you! With these designs our victory is already certain. I would share this victory with you. Please, until that day comes, treat my palace as your home.”

And so Mitsuru had been forced to wait. And he would have to wait until the Empire had crushed the opposition in the south.

I’ve failed.
Mitsuru dug his teeth into his bottom lip.
My plan was faulty.
I did this to myself. But it won’t happen again. Dear emperor, if you think I’m going to sit around here and wait until you can have your fun with the southern continent, you’re sorely mistaken.
Standing on the terrace, Mitsuru clenched his hands into tight fists.

If he wasn’t given the crown immediately, there wouldn’t be time for any calamity—he’d burn this precious capital of theirs to the ground right now. Once the emperor knew what he was capable of he would tremble in fear like he was supposed to.
What did it matter what calamity the Crown of the Seal held in check—it has nothing to do with me. If they want to stop it, fine, they’re on their own.

Yet, there was certain vital information he lacked…

“Master Mitsuru?”

Mitsuru looked around, his hands gripping the terrace railing.

Opening the double doors to the guest room and bowing stiffly was Adju Lupa. He was one of the officers here in the Crystal Palace, under direct orders from the emperor to look after Mitsuru during his stay. He looked to be in his late forties. Mitsuru had instantly been wary of the man’s gentle, scholarly demeanor. This was no mere administrator.

Mitsuru had heard of the special task force operating directly under the guidance of the emperor—Sigdora—when he was still in the south. He had been staying at a small village inn where he had heard stories about a Sigdora attack that had burned down half the houses in town, and claimed the lives of more than half of the residents.

Not knowing anything of the Crown of the Seal at the time, Mitsuru had wondered why the North had sent troops into the South. Now it all made sense. They were doubtlessly searching for whatever these materials were that the emperor needed.

“The Northern Empire uses Sigdora to reclaim refugees who’ve escaped south, or just to kill them,” the innkeeper had said in a hushed voice. “No one knows why. They want something…or maybe the refugees know something and they don’t want them to talk.”

The story had piqued Mitsuru’s interest, and he fully intended to get to the bottom of this Sigdora thing when he traveled north.

Adju Lupa was a card-carrying member of Sigdora, Mitsuru was certain. And he was no mere operative but one of its leaders. Yes, the emperor had welcomed Mitsuru to his city, most likely an honest gesture, but that did not mean he was not wary of his guest. Especially now that the emperor had him waiting. It made perfect sense to deploy a skilled and trusted man to shadow him during his stay.

“The lady requests your presence in the gazebo of the Garden of Victory for some afternoon tea, should it please you,” Adju Lupa announced politely.

The lady of whom he spoke was the eldest daughter of the emperor. Should nothing unfortunate occur, once the current emperor passed away, she would ascend to the throne as Gama Agrilius VIII, the first female emperor in the north.

But Mitsuru knew that her path to the throne would not be an easy one. The residents of the Crystal Palace were nothing if not talkative. Rumors and whispered secrets were as common as mice in a manger. And the worst of the gossips were easily manipulated—few seemed to realize that the locks on their mouths were loose, nor how important the treasures they let slip between the lips actually were.

“Thank you. I shall gladly accept her ladyship’s offer,” Mitsuru replied. He put on a long woven robe that reached to his ankles and made his way across the Crystal Palace grounds.

The Crystal Palace was surrounded by several lush green gardens. Each of them had been arranged in a different fashion, and each had its own name. The majority of them were built to commemorate the births of important members of the Imperial Family over the years, these being given names of unclear provenance, such as the Garden of Origins, or Garden of the Spring of Service.

The Garden of Victory had been built three hundred years before when Gama Agrilius I established his unified empire after a protracted political struggle that spanned the entire northern continent. The garden was built on top of a platform that once supported heavyweight artillery. Wood and bricks from a historic fort had been used to build a memorial gazebo. This structure stood in the garden but still maintained its fierce, martial appearance.

Despite its wartime history and severe architecture, Lady Zophie was fond of this garden above all others. This was no less than the fourth time he had received an invitation to tea at this gazebo.

Most of the greenery in the Garden of Victory was shrubbery resistant to the wind and cold typical of the north. Like the other gardens in the Crystal Palace, it was rather drab. There were some high points, such as the former empress’s personal gardens, and the rose garden known as the Garden of Revelations. Yet, for some reason, Lady Zophie appeared to favor this desolate corner. Mitsuru remained baffled as to why.

Furthermore, the Garden of Victory was in perhaps the farthest spot from the Crystal Palace one could go without leaving the grounds. Mitsuru rode out on an animal called a paho, which was similar to a pony in the real world. The lady’s preferred mode of transport, on the other hand, was a contraption that looked much like a rickshaw. It occurred to Mitsuru that perhaps Zophie’s fondness for this garden was not actually for the garden itself but for her rickshaw—arranging meetings out here was little more than an excuse to go for a ride.

Or perhaps it’s that she has a fondness for the fellow who pulls the rickshaw?

The servant in question was a ruddy-faced lad without rank or title—he wasn’t even a soldier, let alone an Imperial Guard. He was not allowed to wear arms or armor of any sort, only a simple tunic that bore the crest of the sun, the symbol of the Empire. After delivering his lady to the Garden of Victory, he would wait patiently beneath a large shrub cut in the shape of a shield until she was finished with her tea. To Mitsuru’s knowledge, he’d never once called Zophie by her name. In fact, he never said a single thing.

But Mitsuru had noticed something in Lady Zophie’s eyes whenever she would glance at her servant.

When he’d first met the servant, Mitsuru had assumed he too was a member of Sigdora. Even on the palace grounds, the daughter of the emperor would certainly have a bodyguard assigned to her. It would make sense that the bodyguard would be a member of the emperor’s trusted elites.

However, Mitsuru had grown less sure of this with every passing day. His sorcerer’s staff was quite powerful, the gem at its tip having absorbed the power of no less than four gemstones. One of its many powers was subtle, yet very effective. By merely tilting it at objects, one could see them with absolute clarity. For instance, if he swung the staff in Adju Lupa’s direction, he could see all the weapons the mild-mannered man carried on his person. Not only that, but he could sense the skill with which he used them. Skill at swordplay appeared as an aura around his body. By the coloration and the brilliance of that aura, Mitsuru could determine just how good a swordsman the man was.

But no matter how many times he raised his staff in the direction of the lady’s servant, he found no weapons or any trace of martial skill. It was possible, of course, that he was looking at a man who had been highly trained in the art of concealing his identity. Or equally possible that he was simply a harmless rickshaw puller.

When Mitsuru arrived, he found the servant in his usual place, crouched in the shade under his favorite shrub. When he spied Mitsuru approaching, he swiftly stood, took the paho’s reins in his hand, and helped Mitsuru dismount.

Lady Zophie smiled pleasantly from a high-backed chair in the gazebo. The seating here wasn’t too comfortable, and the lady routinely brought a large cushion with her. An intricately embroidered cloth had been draped over a circular table. A silver teapot gleamed in the sunlight.

Whenever the lady came to have tea here, a full entourage of ten female servants would appear bearing teapots, teacups, and cakes. While they drank, the servants would pour tea, and those with nothing to do would hover by the lady and her guest, waiting with bated breath, ready to fill any request directed toward them. The first time he’d come, it had been rather difficult to enjoy his cup of tea with such excessively attentive service. The lady’s calm acceptance had seemed bizarre to say the least. This, Mitsuru thought, is what it means to be royalty. If there was always a crowd of people waiting to please you from the moment you were born, he supposed anyone could grow used to it.

Personally, Mitsuru thought the whole thing was an unneccessary extravagance. To have ten people serving one person seemed an egregious waste of resources. He knew things had been much the same in the real world once upon a time. In a way, visiting Vision was like getting in a time machine to visit the past of his own world.

“It’s quite cold today, isn’t it? Perhaps not the best day for having tea in a garden,” the emperor’s daughter said, rising from her chair to greet him. Over by a shrub, her servant bowed on his knees, placing his fists upon the ground in greeting. Mitsuru took his seat opposite the lady.

“Yet I find the sky a remarkable blue. It is so beautiful, I fear it might purify my soul just to gaze at it.”

“Such modesty! Did you know, perhaps, that my name Zophie means the color blue in an ancient tongue of our people?”

The emperor’s daughter happily gave instructions to her lady servants, and soon the table was covered with fragrant tea and a selection of cakes. All the while she talked in a pleasant, lilting voice. She began by telling him how splendid she had felt upon waking that morning, going on to complain about how difficult her history lectures had been, and how much time it had taken her to stitch the pattern for her new ball gown, and how she’d heard of a new play that was garnering much praise in the capital…

Zophie was all of fifteen years old. She was the daughter of the emperor, yet in many ways she was still just a little girl. She was as giddy and talkative as any girl one might meet in the town. Mitsuru, in general, spoke little, taking in all that she said while making the occasional requisite comment or murmur of approval.

On occasion he would smile or nod, be surprised or impressed. She seemed to revel in Mitsuru’s every gesture, and seem quite pleased that she’d found this clever fellow to enjoy conversation with—even if he was a shade on the young side. Mitsuru, for his part, enjoyed these times for his own private reason, which he could never tell her.