The Prelude (5)

Great power begets great responsibility.

Of course, this was still an unfamiliar notion for Eryne, a message that would fail to resonate without proper context.

She did not don a black suit to engage in heroic neighborhood patrols in Londinium, nor did she have an Uncle Ben figure to impart such wisdom after a pivotal mugging.

Yet a similar concept already existed in this era, without the need to venture into the 21st century.

Noblesse oblige.

The privileged are obligated to fulfill their social responsibilities.

Originally applied quite literally to the privileged – the nobility.

Yet times had changed. As the nobility waned under the centralizing hammer, relegated to obscure corners, their obligations transferred to the newly ascendant capitalists and renowned mages.

In the context of war, one could argue that an officer’s child enlisting constituted an extension of this duty.

The Glasgow royalty, while not throwing themselves bodily into the vanguard, maintained a tradition of serving as officers.

To be frank, Eryne could have easily disregarded such expectations with minimal repercussions.

Those advocating for fulfilling the obligations of privilege did not demand grandiose gestures – charitable activities or diligent efforts already qualified as commendable conduct.

Moreover, at a mere nineteen years old and lacking royal renown, a simple declaration of assisting Ceres Martop’s production efforts would have sufficed without major objections.

Yet Eryne possessed not one, but two potential role models to emulate.

The first was Edan.

Although their initial encounter with his daughter – or so Freugne had recently implied, perhaps not for much longer – had been less than auspicious, he nonetheless provided ample lessons beyond mere academic prowess.

“No, if I simply give it all away, what will remain?”

“Why… you, of course.”

“Ahh…!”

His extensive charitable endeavors, including orphanage sponsorships, were already well-known.

“So, Eryne, was it? I’ve heard about you from Freugne.”

“I, er… my apologies……”

“Hmm? Why the sudden contrition… Ah, because of that incident.”

Eryne had once witnessed him in person when she had visited to atone for a past transgression, now regarded as a black mark.

The Edan she recalled harbored hopes for a better world – a remarkable outlook, considering his life experiences.

Rising from utterly destitute beginnings as an orphan to his present stature, he embodied a human triumph.

Perhaps having intimately experienced the darkest depths enabled such perspective. Not that his commendable deeds were diminished by any backstory.

The other was Freigha.

No matter how diligently Edan pursued charitable causes, it paled in comparison to Freigha, who had single-handedly and stoically raised Eryne from infancy.

Eryne yearned to become a niece whom Freigha could be unreservedly proud of.

It amounted to a complex of sorts. At one point, she had even lashed out inappropriately at Freugne due to this fixation, subsequently striving to exercise restraint.

‘No matter what you do, you are my cherished niece.’

‘I will support you through any ordeal. So do not fear taking on challenges.’

‘And don’t quarrel with your friends! Understood?’

Yet reality remained uncompromising.

Matching Sif’s raw magical prowess was an impossibility.

Eryne had heard that Sif had already assisted with university research during breaks. If war erupted soon, her value might soar into the stratosphere.

While Eryne’s academic performance was hardly lacking, Freugne indisputably occupied the pinnacle.

Of course, her own shortcomings were to blame, so she harbored no resentment towards Freugne’s aptitude.

Eryne had always been somewhat impulsive and occasionally hot-tempered by nature.

Ordinarily, this was not a significant issue, as the school environment rarely presented momentous choices – one simply progressed towards assigned objectives and tasks.

Yet here, Eryne’s trademark impulsiveness intervened:

‘Should I enlist?’

A glance towards the mercenary recruitment notice.

A brief internal debate weighing its merits.

‘I shall.’

And an immediate conclusion.

She did not delude herself into believing she possessed some hitherto concealed prowess akin to Edan’s, nor any sudden delusions about becoming a mercenary. She merely wished to contribute to the war effort in whatever capacity possible.

For this was a conflict against the Demonic Tribe, after all.

A calamitous event with a historical precedent of decimating a third of humanity in a single onset.

And with each successive epoch, the devastation had only escalated, never diminished.

Faced with an adversary that had stockpiled its strength through such an extended peacetime, perhaps humanity itself risked annihilation.

If she could lend her efforts, regardless of the outcome, would that not constitute a noble and honorable pursuit?

She also harbored no desire to secure a prestigious position through connections while others fought valiantly, only to flee from the smoldering Martop ruins should defeat loom.

Eryne had once heard the tale of the 500 Million Year button.

Pressing it would whisk one away to a void for 500 million years, after which memories would be restored alongside a monetary reward, or so the story went.

Reality offered a similar, if slightly divergent, proposition – typically spanning around five years, partial memory retention, but scant monetary compensation.

She had previously scoffed at the notion of anyone pressing such an insane button.

“Here it is.”

For she had become that very person.

“What in the world were you thinking? No, reconsider this, even now. Please?”

“…I don’t intend to wield weapons at the vanguard, though.”

“Even so, I forbid it!”

Freigha, seemingly awaiting Eryne’s return, immediately issued a vehement rebuke.

Eryne could perceive reality. Raised in a privileged environment with ample education, she understood the realities of the Demonic conflict better than most her age.

War was no child’s play, nor a romantic spectacle akin to annals and fiction.

Granted, as a human, she had briefly entertained selfish hopes that it might erupt some 50 years hence.

Yet reality remained uncompromising, demanding acceptance.

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Freugne refrained from employing her abilities in academic settings.

Her primary focus involved monitoring newly proposed legislation, economic trends, international diplomatic currents, and other critical developments.

Consequently, her windows into the future centered on individuals who had already attained societal prominence and renown – figures like Lord Norton, Commissioner Balder, and Edan.

Attempting to glimpse a student’s future would yield little beyond the following week’s lunch menu.

In essence,

she had never bothered scrutinizing Eryne’s future.

“I’m considering enlisting.”

“Pardon?”

Eryne’s utterance signified that Freugne had never foreseen her making such a choice.

Overnight, Eryne had seemingly sprouted a protuberance rendering her future readily perceptible.

And judging by her current words, it appeared largely ineffective – unfortunately for Freigha, at least.

From the outset, Freugne had avoided meddling in others’ futures.

Certainly, if she foresaw grave peril like an impending accident within days, she would issue a humanitarian warning.

Yet she typically overlooked minor transgressions or mishaps in silence. Humans were imperfect, meant to learn through failure – herself included.

Barring a handful of exceptional cases, she refrained from dictating actions based on her foreknowledge. Edan constituted one such exception.

Eryne could be considered a close friend.

Yet if pressed to justify her lack of future guidance, Freugne would cite her assumption that Eryne would eventually join Ceres Martop, whether through nepotism or conventional recruitment.

It seemed a reasonable presumption. Who would spurn an accessible, secure path?

“…Did you at least consult Freigha before reaching this decision?”

“Hm? With whom?”

“With Lady Freigha. I would imagine she strongly opposes this.”

“Ah, that. It was my unilateral choice.”

“Eek……”

Nevertheless, recalling Eryne’s conduct over recent years, her actions did not entirely contradict her character.

And as the adage instructs, one must bend the arm inward – Freugne had no intentions of feigning ignorance under the guise of non-interference.

Of course, glimpsing Eryne’s future would currently prove futile. Each trivial action held the potential to sway the war’s outcome with each passing moment, rendering any specific plans mere ephemeral bubbles amidst the greater tides.

If Freigha could not dissuade her resolute will, Freugne’s chances were even slimmer.

The least she could offer was assistance in ensuring survival.

“Uncle.”

“Yes?”

“Might you be able to divert a few of your newly developed weapons later?”

“That much is feasible, but why?”

“To aid a certain troublemaker you’re also aware of.”

“I see……”

Edan owed Freugne his gratitude. For where else could one find a daughter striving so diligently to spare him such anguish?

‘Of course, I shall renounce this path eventually.’

Once the war concluded favorably, without fail.