Ch.831The Third Exile

Daughter of Meiharin. Aishan-Gioro Imara.

As Orhan’s fifth child and youngest, unlike Meiharin and Sahakal who had always kept Hersella at a distance, she was a child who had followed Hersella like her own sister when she was young.

Only, when she was young.

But the beauty of flowers cannot last ten days, and even the full moon must wane—such is the way of the world.

The seemingly unshakable bond between the half-sisters came to an end when Hersella personally tore apart and killed Imara’s handmaiden who had insulted Imelia.

After that, the two fell into a relationship worse than strangers, and now they had become such explicit enemies that Imara frequently sent assassins, or so it was said.

Well, the seething was entirely one-sided on Imara’s part, while Hersella seemed closer to simply neglecting the twisted relationship, not knowing how to mend it.

Anyway, the image I had of Imara was of a cruel and fierce woman, a typical Ka’har princess who would send dozens of assassins after her half-sister.

“Sister…! Can’t you forgive me just this once? I was so rude before…! I’ll apologize like this! That was all just me being petulant! I don’t actually hate you, sister!”

…Not this girl prostrating herself so submissively as if offering up her liver and gallbladder.

—-

‘What is this? Was she always like this?’

Imara’s behavior was completely different from what I’d heard.

With such intensity that she looked ready to prostrate herself naked if I were just four years older, I couldn’t hide my confusion as I demanded answers from Hersella about what was happening.

I thought she’d be as venomous as a snake, but this was more like a baby fox rolling over to expose its belly.

[No, how could that be? What in the world…?]

Of course, Hersella was just as confused as I was. Seeing how she doubted her own eyes, wondering if she was under some hallucination curse, it seemed Hersella had never even imagined Imara would act this way.

“Sister…?”

Perhaps feeling anxious at the silent stare looking down at her, Imara slightly raised her head from the floor and cautiously gauged my reaction.

‘She’s calling for you. What should I do? Should I step back and let you two talk?’

I whispered to Hersella. I was willing to return control of the body to her for a while if she wanted. Just like when I had handed over control in front of Jahan several times.

Since I knew almost nothing about Imara, I thought it would be more reasonable to let Hersella, who knew her well, handle the conversation.

Besides, wouldn’t Hersella want to talk with her sister whom she hadn’t seen in a long time? I could accommodate that much.

[Uh, that. No, stop. I don’t know what to say…!]

…But she herself seemed unwilling, rejecting the offer with a voice trembling so much it was pitiful rather than amusing.

‘Then what do you want me to do?’

[You, you handle it. Isn’t it your specialty? Making young girls cling to you.]

That sounds a bit inappropriate.

It’s like you’re treating me as some criminal who lures children with candy.

—-

Anyway, since Hersella had given up on the conversation, I was the only one who could salvage this situation.

“Your apology is accepted, now sit down. I need to hear what happened that drove you to flee here.”

“Sister…! Are you forgiving me?”

“That’s something I’ll decide after hearing your story. First, sit down. I don’t want to talk while looking at the back of your head.”

So I imitated Hersella’s manner of speech and stopped Imara from kowtowing like a king surrendering to barbarians, bowing three times and touching her head to the ground nine times.

“Ahem, yes. I shall sit!”

No need to respond so formally like that….

What’s really going on with her? Even if she wants something from me, this overly accommodating attitude seems excessive. Even her eyes were sparkling like those of the priests in the church who looked at me in my saint’s robes.

What is this? Why is she looking at me like that? Did she go a little crazy after witnessing someone explode right in front of her?

Weren’t they supposed to be sending assassins to each other at every opportunity? Was it actually that Imara had been sending capable subordinates as gifts, but Hersella misunderstood and killed them all?

With a face mixed with doubt and confusion, I looked down at the girl who was chirping with her head raised like a baby bird waiting for food, and heard the whole truth from her.

It wasn’t a long story. Moreover, it wasn’t proper information, but rather a story heavily biased toward what she herself had seen and experienced.

“So… your mother, Meiharin, was actually a sorceress who dealt with terribly sinister dark arts? And these sorcerers are subordinates she sent?”

“Yes. That would be the summary.”

“So you ran away as soon as you found out, fearing you might be silenced.”

“That’s right. I was taught that sorcerers don’t know human decency and regard even their children’s lives as sacrifices and tools.”

Perhaps she had calmed down somewhat due to my attitude of calmly listening to her words, Imara was now answering with a formal tone, putting on airs.

Even so, her first impression had been so strong that from my perspective, she still seemed like a concept character just like Hersella.

A celestial horse concept character and a villainess concept character. What a well-matched pair of eccentrics, befitting sisters.

Still, the story Imara told me was quite useful information for me.

No, actually, it wasn’t just “quite” useful—it was enormously valuable information.

A sorceress who commanded eastern sorcerers as her minions—how common could such a woman be in the steppes? Anyone could see this clearly pointed to someone close to the Third Apostle.

The Third Apostle.

According to Orhan’s speculation, the culprit suspected of killing Hersella’s birth mother, Imelia.

If Meiharin was close to such a being, it was reasonable to assume that Imelia’s death was also Meiharin’s intention.

[…Interesting. Very interesting.]

Perhaps reaching the same conclusion as me, Hersella too had lost her earlier bewilderment and was showing bloodthirsty interest with a low, growling voice.

In other words, if we approached Aishan’s Second Empress Meiharin, we might get clues about the identity of the Third Apostle.

Could Meiharin herself be the Apostle?

I had considered that possibility too… but it seemed unlikely. In the original story, the Apostles began their full-scale activities after Hersella’s defeat when she invaded the Empire.

The fact that Hersella unified the Great Plains and invaded the Empire meant that all her competitors had been slaughtered.

In other words, it meant that Sahakal and his backer Meiharin would not have escaped death either.

So the possibility that the Third Apostle who appeared later was Meiharin was slim.

Not just slim but nonexistent? That’s not necessarily true.

The original Hersella would have believed she had killed Meiharin, but it’s possible that Meiharin had faked her death and gone into hiding, only to reappear as the Third Apostle as soon as Hersella was defeated, saying “I’ve never experienced death.”

In the end, until we confronted Meiharin directly and beat her up, we couldn’t be certain about the identity of the Third Apostle.

So what should we do?

Should we fly straight to Ordos and rip out Meiharin’s spine vertebra by vertebra? Hersella might applaud and approve, but the risk seemed concerning.

For me, practically a public enemy of the steppes, to raid Ordos meant having to single-handedly annihilate all the troops gathered there.

Meiharin who was preparing something, an unknown number of sorcerers, and the possibly appearing Third Apostle.

Add to that the Aishan warriors commanded by Sahakal and the tribes that had submitted to him, and perhaps even Targiyan’s legion that might attack opportunistically when things were winding down.

Taking all of them down was daunting even for me.

My power was certainly strong enough to kill even those who had transcended the wall with a single surprise attack, let alone masters, but it consumed a great deal of energy.

Like a racing car with tremendous speed and a huge fuel tank, but with the worst fuel efficiency.

So, no matter how urgent, I needed to make at least minimal preparations before moving.

One misstep and I might be subdued before eliminating all enemies if my energy ran out. Even I couldn’t face hero-class warriors or sorcerers with just my bare body after the power of Karma was depleted.

Especially the Apostles—they were enemies not to be underestimated even if I was in perfect condition.

Just look at Ragnar. Even though he clearly hadn’t grown as much as in the original story, fighting him had completely drained me. He had even somehow countered Defying Fate by combining rune inscriptions.

It was impossible to know how powerful the Third Apostle might be, but rushing alone into what might be their stronghold wasn’t confidence but recklessness.

So, for now—

“You asked me to save you? Very well. I have some conditions, but if you follow them obediently, I can at least guarantee your safety.”

“Thank… no, thank you, sister! As long as you protect me, I’ll do anything you command!”

What does she think I’m going to ask her to do?

Did she think Hersella had forgiven her and accepted her, or did she simply believe a path to survive safely had opened?

Imara’s face brightened as she declared with heightened tone that she would follow all my conditions.

And so, another exile from Ka’har joined us.

—-

Due to the nature of my flight method, it was impossible to carry another person while flying, so for the return journey, I had no choice but to summon Cascador and ride him.

Fortunately, Cascador didn’t refuse to carry Imara, and Imara herself didn’t hesitate to mount the mythical beast, saying she was delighted to see in person the creature she had only heard about.

[…She was a virgin? I thought she would be experienced, since she used to mock me for not being feminine enough while flaunting the men she had relations with.]

Hersella, who knew the unicorn’s boarding requirements, couldn’t hide her shock.