The Prelude (3)

This decision did not proceed smoothly without any resistance.

Yet what could be done? Freugne merely needed to raise her fist and let out a defiant “Hah!” – and it was settled.

To be precise, the council members feared the repercussions of defying her warning, but the outcome remained unchanged, rendering the nuances irrelevant.

Of course, the uninformed citizenry did not receive this favorably.

Since a rebellion had occurred in Londinium a mere two years prior, some regarded this as an inevitable culmination. Yet others still clung to the illusion of perpetual peace.

It amounted to a declaration that the ostensibly peaceful era – that resplendent period – had concluded.

The tentatively reviving economy exhibited fresh signs of stagnation. News of securing new export routes was promptly overshadowed by reports of Edan’s injury, only for Ceres Martop’s stock to rally upon his recovery, fluctuating wildly.

And amidst this chaotic Londinium, there emerged an unexpectedly afflicted group:

“So what are we supposed to do after graduating?”

“Weren’t you going to join your father’s company?”

“Saying that now might get me fired.”

The students.

More specifically, those on the cusp of entering society, the graduating class.

While a conscription decree had been issued, war was not imminent.

Yet rudimentary calculations indicated conflict would likely erupt around their graduation.

Granted, invoking scholarly privilege could spare them from serving as rank-and-file fodder, instead perishing as officers.

Exhibiting exceptional prowess might secure research positions, but most lacked sufficient mastery of magic to realistically aspire to such roles.

Some clung to hopes that mercenary recruitment might never materialize, but such prospects seemed bleak.

Freugne refrained from explicitly shattering those illusions – for dreams existed to be pursued, not merely admired behind glass displays.

Yet one undeniable certainty remained:

The meticulously crafted career plans these students had envisioned now amounted to little more than bubbles.

“So what will you do?”

Eryne, possessing the audacious courage to open with an outrageous icebreaker, observed the chaos and pandemonium for a moment before inquiring.

Seated ahead, Freugne glanced over her shoulder as she responded:

“Well, I suppose I could become a housewife.”

“Whose?”

Having posed the query, Eryne swiftly shook her head dismissively.

“Ah, never mind. I can probably guess. You’d just mention a boyfriend again, wouldn’t you?”

“A boyfriend… you think I have one?”

“You don’t seem to be seeing anyone, though.”

As the new term commenced, the male students of Cardiff School, perhaps perceiving this as their final opportunity, inundated Freugne with countless confession requests. However, she rebuffed them all with the utterly unconvincing excuse of already having a boyfriend.

“Alright, I don’t have a boyfriend. But don’t go spreading rumors, okay?”

“Yes, such honesty is so refreshing.”

“However, there is someone I like. And this is the truth.”

While Professor Magni had pursued Freugne’s identity through political channels, Eryne was arguably the sole individual who delved into her personal affairs.

And after years of serving as a friend and quasi-romantic advisor, she had arrived at a rough estimate:

‘Surely not… Mr. Edan?’

Truthfully, others had been too preoccupied with disappointment over her claimed romantic involvement to inquire further, unaware of the compounding evidence.

Just as Edan had incessantly pestered Professor Magni about Freugne’s academic performance and commendations, she had reciprocated with exhaustive reports detailing his every move.

Moreover, upon returning from the break, it seemed some trigger had further exacerbated her fixation.

Naturally, she refrained from overt displays.

When a freshly showered Edan emerged, prompting Freugne to fidget restlessly even before others, he lacked an appropriate response. He had narrowly avoided her wrath after providing an unsatisfactory answer previously.

‘So, you see? If someone else had been present instead of me, can you imagine what might have transpired? I would have simply ushered you away to engage in-‘

‘I see. Truly enlightening information.’

‘Huh?’

‘Why?’

‘Why did you… want to know?’

Dismissing it as a mere habitual reaction had swiftly dispelled the misunderstanding. However, Eryne had not witnessed Freugne so solemn in quite some time.

Simultaneously, she gained conviction that her suspicions were indeed valid.

No, she had arguably attained that certainty long ago – it had merely taken time to accept this reality.

Well… he was her father, was he not? Not a drop of shared blood, yet legally and unequivocally so, for better or worse.

It seemed like an unattainable dream, but Eryne refrained from voicing that observation.

For dreams, after all, existed to be pursued.

The sole aspect she remained unaware of was that Freugne possessed ample capability to realize such aspirations.

Lest the conversation devolve into yet another recitation of Edan’s multitudinous charms, Eryne deftly grafted the tangent back to its original course through her signature segue.

“In any case, returning to our initial topic – so you intend to do nothing at all? Hmm, what about you, Sif?”

“W-Well, I haven’t really given it much thought either…”

Constantly stealing furtive glances at Freugne while struggling to contribute, Sif found herself conscripted into the discussion by Eryne’s supporting fire.

She had merely intended to spend the break practicing magic as usual, anticipating an uneventful respite.

Yet at some juncture, the Demonic Tribe’s Antrim incursion had occurred, with Edan nearly perishing while Freugne seemed to undergo some form of inner awakening upon their return.

While uninvolved in that incident, Sif could not entirely remain oblivious to its implications.

However, Eryne, utterly unaware of those circumstances, continued:

“I suppose I’m the only one agonizing over this.”

“Well, it doesn’t really concern us directly, does it?”

“That may be true, but……”

She spoke the truth.

Sif could transition into research, while Freugne held a position rendering such pursuits unnecessary.

As for Eryne, whether directly enlisted or parachuted in, she could simply join Ceres Martop’s munitions production.

Their reality differed entirely from those gripping their heads in anguished rumination within the classroom.

Yet Eryne appeared dissatisfied.

Her gaze remained fixated upon the modest recruitment notice affixed at the front of the classroom.

Following her candid confession to Edan, Freugne’s life became considerably more affluent.

How utterly agonizing it had been to conceal secrets within her own home.

She had constantly remained on guard, ever vigilant lest her actions betray her, meticulously hiding even letters and diaries lest they be discovered.

Could this have mirrored the barber’s plight, shouting in the forest that the emperor’s ears resembled a cat’s?

Those seemingly trivial tasks, cumulatively draining when endured daily, had dissipated, providing immense relief.

Doubtless, her newfound tranquility also stemmed from no longer deceiving Edan.

“Uncle, is there anything you’re curious about?”

“Of course. Specifically when this war will erupt and whether we can emerge victorious.”

“Ahh… I can disclose the former, but I’m honestly uncertain about the latter.”

Sprawled upon Edan’s bed, Freugne responded.

“So there are futures you cannot perceive?”

“Discerning the distant future proves challenging, primarily due to uncertainties surrounding the Dark Lord’s actions.”

Freugne reached out, grasping Edan’s arm.

In her visions, he was sometimes amidst the warfront, conducting equipment inspections near the battlelines, or ferrying water buckets through burning cities.

Each glimpse felt erratic, with victory and defeat fluctuating so wildly as to become indistinguishable. ity would triumphantly declare victory in Londinium, only for the Demonic Tribe to seize control, or the conflict would conclude in an ambiguous stalemate.

Edan would be engulfed by crowds, fleeing while clutching her hand, or quietly receiving news reports from home.

It signified that the outcome hinged upon her actions and Edan’s from this point onward.

She was venturing into an uncertain future, attributing its inscrutability primarily to the Dark Lord’s influence.

“Yes, I’m honestly unsure. And it terrifies me.”

“I see?”

Freugne shuddered involuntarily. After a momentary observation, Edan gently embraced her from behind.

“And now?”

“…I’m still a bit scared. But it feels slightly better.”

“Then I’m relieved.”

“Rather, are you attempting to seduce me?”

“What?!”

Freugne laughed as Edan recoiled in startled surprise.

In times past, he would have nonchalantly retorted – yet his present demeanor implied otherwise.

This, she realized, was precisely why…

Solely because of him.

Just as he had once safeguarded her, having someone to protect imbued her with the strength to fight.