The Prelude (11)

Freugne possessed an insatiable nature.

It was not a greed that incessantly coveted, accumulating until there was nothing left to acquire, leaving her parched with unfulfilled desire.

Rather, it was a tenacious obsession – once she had set her sights on something, she could only find solace in possessing it.

She occupied a position enabling her to readily pursue aspirations that most would dismiss as futile fantasies.

Thus, she had successfully acquired the kingdom’s most exceptional talents, stocks deemed indispensable by the masses, and a metropolitan police force to ensure her security.

‘Yet I have not obtained my deepest desire.’s require objectives to propel them forward.

A locomotive without a destination, no matter its engine’s quality or fuel reserves, inevitably remains motionless at the station.

For Freugne, this covetousness served as her guiding beacon.

It enabled her shadow cabal’s development even before foreseeing the Demonic invasion.

Those singularly fixated seldom contemplate what lies beyond their immediate pursuit.

Certainly, Freugne was a calculated individual – deftly navigating the tightropes of human relations, politics, and economics was the hallmark of a seasoned shadow operative.

Yet her meticulous planning solely focused on accomplishing her objectives, not on what followed.

Few travelers meticulously prepare for the day after their return when arranging trip itineraries.

Moreover, Freugne had adopted the habit of assuming worst-case scenarios, a recent development.

Thus, while she may have envisioned holding hands as the culmination,

she had not contemplated any specific responses beyond that juncture.

Yet neither could she remain inert and indecisive.

As if confirming this was no mere falsehood or fantasy, Freugne gently grasped his hand, savoring its solidity and warmth.

“…Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Just… everything.”

Myriad reasons merited gratitude – rescuing her as a child, supporting her through adversity, bestowing paternal affection despite being unrelated, fulfilling her need for devotion.

Enumerating each would consume half a day.

And was not that which one takes for granted the most deeply ingrained in daily existence?

Edan, ever-present in that unassuming corner of her life as she attended school by day while conducting shadow operations by night –

his existence was that intrinsic certainty.

Unimaginable in its absence, yet precious precisely due to that permanence. Hence, her candid response of “everything.”

“Could you tell me you love me?”

“I love you.”

“Heh… but in what sense, I wonder?”

“……’

“You need not answer. From now on, I shall interpret it as I see fit.”

Of course, retaining their existing fondness, his sentiments likely contained shades of paternal affection.

Thus, Edan’s intent approximated granting permission for her to proceed rather than fully reciprocating her romantic inclinations.

In a sense, she had only just reached the starting line. Yet Freugne harbored no resentment towards this reality.

‘Very well, this suffices.’

She had surmounted the most arduous initial hurdle – transcending the friend zone.

The anticipation and restlessness she had endured for this simple objective had been considerable.

This was the very picture Freugne had desired.

Seldom had she entertained notions of coercion or undue imposition.

And her patience seemed rewarded, having remained an obedient soul.

She gazed down wistfully as Edan retreated outdoors to catch his breath.

---

I briefly stepped outside to get some air.

The crisp breeze cleared my mind. Surrounded solely by the whispers of the wind, a sense of tranquility washed over me, affording me the luxury of contemplation.

I must have finally lost my mind, driven insane by excessive magical studies.

Surviving against all odds truly leads one down inexplicable paths.

“Hah……”

The soft sigh escaped as wisps of vapor in the chilly air.

I had not anticipated resonating so deeply with Professor Magnee’s lamentations about witnessing sights no elderly man should endure before embracing death’s solace.

Londinium’s very atmosphere, saturated with soot, constituted a direct route to lung cancer – no need to compound it further with cigarette smoke.

Yet alcohol held a certain appeal this evening, the significance of the impending event compelling restraint.

I slowly revisited our recent conversation.

Part impulse, part sincerity.

The former stemmed from my dialogue with Professor Magnee, the latter from acknowledging Freugne’s right to choose her own path in life.

The excuses I had stubbornly clung to had reached their expiration.

‘You’re still too young to discern your true feelings. As you mature, you’ll realize it’s a different form of love.’

While no definitive age demarcated adulthood, none would dispute Freugne’s maturity when surveying the broader consensus.

Raising this with Freigha would undoubtedly invite merciless mockery for my inability to let go.

‘With males comprising half the world’s population, have you truly explored whether your match exists out there somewhere?’

She herself had received numerous confessions, yet never pursued a relationship.

How desperate must she have been to fabricate an imaginary boyfriend just to deflect them? I could hardly cite a lack of worldly experience, having witnessed all conceivable depravities through my shadow dealings.

And my final bastion:

‘Legally, there could be… complications, couldn’t there?’

Freugne had not even afforded it the slightest impediment – a factual assessment, as I was well aware her audacity was no mere bluster.

Would I have believed it if my past self could travel forward and recount these events?

A moment’s reflection rendered that implausible. I would have been fortunate to avoid an exorcism amidst cries of demonic possession.

Who could have foreseen the child to whom I read heroic fables of valiant knights vanquishing evil overlords would directly confront such menaces herself?

‘The hero vanquished the Dark Lord, restoring peace.

He then married the rescued princess, becoming king. And the kingdom prospered ever after.’

A renowned tale, ideal for recounting to children afflicted by Demonic incursions, regardless of nationality.

I had often regaled the orphanage children, Freugne included, with such stories during her youth.

While the intermediate details varied with each retelling, the overarching narrative remained consistent.

Unambiguously virtuous and inoffensive – clichéd, perhaps, yet clichés resonate for valid reasons when addressing a youthful audience.

Imparting valuable lessons about positive actions yielding positive outcomes and the necessity of vanquishing Demonic threats in a world where those menaces genuinely existed.

Of course, these were heavily sanitized renditions tailored for young palates.

How could one candidly discuss the last hero’s failure to return or humanity’s brush with extinction?

That would constitute the third betrayal after Santa Claus’s and the Tooth Fairy’s unveiling, eliciting paroxysms of anguished disillusionment.

Yet reality remains unvarnished squalor.

Chivalric romanticism faded with the age of knighthood.

The era when exceptional individuals could overcome collective adversaries had irretrievably passed.

Overlaying modernity upon my clichéd, archetypal heroic narratives imbued them with the acrid reek of gunpowder.

Soldiers were likely already amassing along the borders, awaiting the zero-hour activation transmitted to Glasgow.

“Right, focus. Concentrate.”

Here, I must confront the evidence validating – or invalidating – my life’s endeavors.

Rather than indulging in romantic dalliances at my age, I must concentrate on ensuring Freugne’s and my survival.

As I briefly surveyed the illuminated room, my gaze met one lingering embodiment of those endeavors –

Freugne, an inscrutable, sly smile upon her lips, her thoughts indiscernible.

It seemed the capacity to completely exorcise such ruminations would elude me for the foreseeable future.

---

While the Demonic Tribe required no justification for war, a signal flare to commence hostilities remained imperative.

-Bang!-

A solitary gunshot rang out along the border.

Its source could have been a Demon or a human mercenary, an accidental discharge or an intentional provocation under orders.

“What was that? What’s going on?!”

“I-I’m not sure……”

“Maintain your defensive positions! Do you not comprehend the situation?!”

“It came from the enemy’s lines! I heard it clearly!”

“No! Over there, to the right – didn’t it come from within the forest?”

“Flames! I see fires everywhere!!”

Yet once initiated, the specifics mattered little.

Without designating aggressor or defender roles, the next volley of gunfire followed. Calls for restraint and assessment were quietly smothered by the acrid haze of gunpowder.

“Commander!”

“Yes, I witnessed it all.”

“What are our orders, sir?”

“Orders? Do you still require explicit instructions after that report?”

Amidst the reverberating detonations and flickering illumination, the general muttered while surveying the unfolding spectacle – an eventuality foreseen yet inherently unsettling:

“War.”

“……..”

“Send the dispatches.”