Encountering an enemy who outpaces those marked with a symbol.
The Tembar Kingdom's castle, seen through the water mirror, resembles one of Germany's three great castles—Hohenzollern Castle. It was a castle so beautiful it was hailed as a sky fortress.
I've always loved that reporter who travels the world, asking trivia questions. I've watched it since I was a child. I especially loved the sight of European towns.
This castle, located in southern Germany, sits atop a mountain. When the surrounding peaks are shrouded in clouds, it looks as though the castle floats in a sea of clouds.
The castle is surrounded by forest. In summer, the trees are lush and green; in winter, they're covered in snow. Just imagining the view from here is enough to send your dreams soaring.
Yes, this Tembar castle is a bit unusual—despite having a castle in the middle of town, it's completely surrounded by forest. Something you wouldn't find anywhere else.
A castle sits atop a gentle hill, surrounded by forest. It’s a proper fortress—outer walls, outer moat, all that—once you’ve pushed through the woods. The forest might as well be part of the garden, really.
I used to love European townscapes and foreign landscapes—nothing to do with castles, really. I was especially fond of fantasy stories that were built around European streets. Every time an old fantasy novel became a movie, I’d drag myself to the theater. I couldn’t get enough of seeing the actual countries and castles that inspired them.
That’s where it all started—my fascination with fantasy metals like mithril and orichalcum.
I remember how, every time a new element was created, my heart would race with hope—thinking even mithril might not be a dream anymore.
Honestly, I kind of stared off into the distance thinking how life’s unpredictable—especially when you end up becoming a spirit ruler yourself. That’s a secret between us, though.
This castle in the Spirit World, where I live with Mother, is the same one where I got so excited at two years old I kept trying magic nonstop—until I ended up flying through the sky, got carried away, went on reckless adventures, and got lost over and over.
I can still picture my parents panicking, the entire spirit population of the castle scrambling to find me. Try imagining a two-year-old who got so good at sneaking around and covering her tracks she could outwit a whole search party. The memory of my parents’ sighs still haunts me. Probably just me.
Lost in those memories, I was staring into the water mirror, transfixed by the view of the castle, when Mother smiled and said, “Visiting the enemy’s stronghold, are we?”
Kaa-sama, that’s a little too dramatic, isn’t it? I was just having fun, really.
Shaking off the moment, I gave my father an encouraging wave from across the water mirror.
＊＊＊
The castle was in an uproar, as if a hero had returned. You could tell exactly which room the hero was being led to just by the flustered servants darting about.
People were crowding the entrance just to catch a glimpse, and rumors—baseless as they were—were flying through the air. Excited onlookers were rushing into the castle, and the soldiers were running back and forth without a moment’s rest.
Even though the audience was still hours away, the king grew cold with sweat every time he heard from the soldiers about the common folk’s frenzy. His legs trembled. His temperature dropped.
"Your Majesty."
Startled by the voice, the king flinched violently.
"L-Lavissel..."
The man called Lavissel smiled warmly.
Lavissel was the first prince of the Tembar Kingdom, turning thirty-two this year. He already had three children.
Two princes—grandsons to the king—and one princess. The eldest son was twelve, the eldest daughter ten, and the second son nine.
Lovell, eight years younger than me, was my senior and junior at the eight-year noble academy.
Lavissel had always favored Lovell, precisely because of his exceptional talent. She’d even pushed for him to be her sister’s fiancé—wanted him as a brother-in-law, really.
When Lavissel heard that Lovell, who’d vanished into the Spirit World ten years ago, had finally returned, she was positively radiant.
As the audience time drew near, the king’s demeanor grew increasingly strange. And with every passing moment, Lavissel’s mood brightened.
She moved right beside the throne, leaned in close, and whispered into the king’s ear.
“Lovell won’t forgive Your Majesty.”
Lavissel giggled—but the king turned pale.
“Your Majesty, Lovell’s power is vital to the kingdom. We mustn’t anger him further.”
She smiled, of course. But her eyes? They weren’t smiling at all.
"Do you remember, Your Majesty? I advised you not to take Agiel’s words seriously. But you let the crowd sway you—pushed Agiel, with all his trouble, right into the Vanklyft Family."
She was recalling that time, wasn’t she? The king clutched his head, trembling violently, mouth shut tight. No—couldn’t speak.
"Think about it. What happens when Lovell returns and finds that woman waiting at home? You could’ve predicted something like this, couldn’t you?"
The Vanklyft Family was a hero to the common people.
So what did it mean, giving the royal family’s troublemaker to a household already celebrated like that?
Agile had already earned the king’s displeasure. Being shoved to the front lines of the Monster Tempest was practically a death sentence.
And sure enough, after losing both the current head and heir in quick succession, the king now dumped the blame—on the younger brother, from the older one.
Even after that, the Vanklyft Family became a burning chariot thanks to Agiel’s actions. In the territories, resentment toward the royal family from the common people kept rising.
It didn’t take long for the rumor to spread—how the king, who’d once relied on the family that defended the capital from the Monster Tempest, now scorned them and sought to crush them entirely.
The king’s popularity has taken a sharp nosedive over the past decade—how could he be so cruel to those who’ve protected the people?
Only the king and his son were in the room. No one else was listening to this story.
"Your Majesty, there's only one way out."
The king snapped upright at Lavisel’s cheerful suggestion. His face looked like someone grasping at straws—desperate, plain to see.
Yeah, it’s super simple—just slip out of this situation like it’s nothing.
Lavissel's lips curled upward.
＊＊＊
At the king’s presence, Lovell stood, and the king forced a smile, praising him for returning safely.
For protecting the nation. For safeguarding the people.
Each time the king spoke of Lovell’s deeds, he became more aware of the cruelty of his own actions.
“…Something to reward you. Any wishes?”
“With all due respect, I have two requests. Not things, though.”
“…Speak them.”
“My family’s protection from the royal household’s interference, and—again, with all due respect—I’d like you to attend the divorce mediation for my brother, the head of the Vanklyft Family, Sauvel Vanklyft, as a family representative.”
The air around Lovell’s words shifted, barely perceptible.
The Vanklyft Family had effectively cut ties with the royal house—there was no mistaking it.
“…Lovell, that’s…”
“With all due respect.”
The room stirred again as Lovell cut across the king’s words. To interrupt the king was beyond mere disrespect. Yet the air around Lovell seemed to shift, pulled in by his presence.
A silence—unnatural, heavy—radiated from him. It wasn’t rage, not exactly. It was something quieter. Something deeper.
“Lady Agiel, wife of Sauvel, is the one who has petitioned for divorce.”
In that instant, the entire court’s understanding flipped. The royal family had severed ties with the Vanclifts.
They’d just declared war on the family that had long held the nation’s military command—the very symbol of the crown.
The nobles erupted. It was like announcing civil war. The air thickened, sour with tension.
The king had just dismissed a family that had served the realm for generations. Now, every noble in the room looked at him with a coldness sharper than steel. *Tomorrow could be me,* someone thought. *Or worse—tomorrow could be you.*
If Lovell abandons her, the war smoldering at the border will spread across the entire realm in an instant.
It should’ve been a joyful celebration of a hero’s return, yet the other nobles demanded an explanation from the king.
“Wait!! What’s the reason Agiel is asking for a divorce!?”
“She wants to marry another man.”
The king flinched harder at the accusation of Agiel’s infidelity.
“That’s not you, Lovell.”
The king now turned on Lovell, blaming him for Agiel’s betrayal—but Lovell just smiled.
“I broke off my engagement with Agiel ten years ago. That’s why she married Sauvel. I haven’t set foot in the Spirit World in ten years. Yet Agiel publicly declared in front of everyone, including my servants, that her child, Amiel, is not Sauvel’s.”
What was confessed in front of everyone wasn’t just a matter of royal disgrace anymore.
Agiel’s infidelity had nothing to do with the Vanklyft Family.
The King turned completely white.
The nobles around him instantly rallied behind the Vanklyft Family.
Amid the shouts demanding explanations, the King stood frozen, unable to utter a single word.
Then, someone appeared before the King.
“…Prince…”
The words rippled through the crowd, and the furious shouting instantly dissolved into silence.
When no one was speaking anymore, Raffilia finally opened her mouth.
“I’ll hear Lovell’s words on the King’s behalf. The King is heartbroken over Agiel’s betrayal.”
Her composed presence already carried the authority of a ruler. At the sight of her, Lovell narrowed his eyes.
“Lovell, the royal family will declare that we’ll grant your demands. But… I’d like you to make a small concession.”
“A concession?”
“Your family is an indispensable force for our nation—not for the king, but for the people. I’m asking you to lend us that strength.”
Lavissel’s pained expression, her plea so earnest, had everyone in the room instantly swayed.
Lovell, as usual, made a face like he’d just bitten into something bitter.
Even among the royal family, Agiel was the one he hated most—but the one he truly feared? That was “this” man, his older brother. The one who’d shaped every bitter turn of his life.