The reason the Threefold Empire has managed to maintain its independence for five hundred years despite holding enemies in every direction, remaining semi-isolated as a unique state both culturally and socially, and continues to wield significant influence in the western part of the central continent as a powerful empire, is what exactly?
The securing of a prime geopolitical location. The enhancement of the nation’s inherent strength by incorporating various races without resorting to a policy of persecution. The early establishment of an efficient—though harsh in the eyes of those involved—system of nobility that resembles a kind of bureaucratic structure.
If one were to ask for reasons, countless scholars from myriad fields would no doubt enumerate innumerable theories, loudly asserting that these alone were what built the empire.
But, were one to select the crucial pieces that truly made the empire an empire… surely it can’t be denied that their obsessive merit-based reward system is a key factor.
Surrounded by countless reports, the woman, her beautiful face marked with deep fatigue, twisted it in irritation as she tore up a letter from the Magic Academy.
“More…! More like this…!”
Pouring all her anger, she unleashed curses only possible due to her solitude, gradually reducing the quality foil-embossed paper to mere trash. Usually poised and unobtrusive, a model attendant who suppresses her own “self” to the utmost, the reason for her current outburst was singular.
“There must be some better way to phrase this!”
Such was written in the letter:
“I’m sorry about the inexperienced apprentices. We’ll refund the commission. It’s quite unfortunate that you brought us all this way, but my research is at an interesting point right now, so please allow me some more time.”
Of course, the recipient was an esteemed mage bearing honorary titles and academic ranks. The actual response was not written in such a casual tone, but rather in impeccable grammar and proper etiquette, a model example of correspondence fit even for the empire’s nobility.
The only flaw: No matter how politely or favorably interpreted, it amounted to the same dismissive message.
To make matters worse, she had endured hours of feeble excuses from a handful of incompetent subordinates—whose hindrance, it seemed, was met without the possibility of alternative measures—and this was the long-awaited response. The extent of her fury could only be imagined.
Yet, if one considered whether such behavior was justified… regrettably, it was. A professor of the Magic Academy, this person had risen to nobility not through lineage but merit. In an empire that strictly adhered to results-driven rewards, the outbursts and dismissive behavior of the powerful were somewhat tolerated.
Therefore, a lethargic member of the long-lived species could indulge in years of seclusion in the library, and the famous necromancer could unabashedly pursue their whims. To counter such force, greater force was needed, and even her accomplished attendants lacked the authority to do so.
Fuming so intensely it worried her of the risk of collapsing from a burst blood vessel, she calmed down after a few gentle knocks at the door. Gathering scattered reports, documents, and unfinished letters, she motioned for the visitor to enter.
“Ah, um, Miss Mechtild…”
The arrival was a subordinate of hers, dressed in a nun’s habit. Carrying a tray with a warm meal, her concern was evident in the steam that rose towards her weary superior.
However, unlike the food, she yearned for some kind of reaction from her lord, elicited by this subordinate. But, seeing the remorseful shadow in their gaze and the tray offering only porridge and a wine cup suitable for her chronic gastritis, her hopes were cruelly dashed.
“Still nothing?”
“Yes… indeed…”
If sighs had mass, this one would’ve punctured the floor and sunk infinitely deep. Rubbing her eyes, she beckoned her junior inside.
Ultimately, her troubles stemmed from one source: her employer. Even the beginning of this situation led back to the same person. The pursuit of the escapee reaching its “third day” and finding not a single nun to cling to—every tributary of this chaos converged upon him.
Had he been more mindful in phrasing the letter… had he paid more attention to his daughter’s growth… and, most importantly, had he realized the “polysemous nature of his lineage”…
With her human fragility pushed to its limit, she had continued working non-stop for three days with only brief rests and light breaks.
“It seems this time, uh, the professor has become incredibly engrossed… there’s no sign of it ending, indeed…”
As the subordinate mumbled this report, the attendant waved a dismissive hand.
She had known her lord long enough to understand what kind of person they were. That knowledge was, unfortunately, etched deeply into her worn stomach.
Her employer was, generally, highly competent. Exceedingly so. They managed to accomplish herculean tasks and responsibilities—ones that would drive an ordinary ruler to resign in tears within three days—effortlessly, even amidst their hobbies, excelling without fail.
But when truly immersed in something… there was no hope for it.
Typically, a little interest or diversion could be reined in with a letter or a thought transmission. But when the topic truly captivates, everything is rendered futile. Even an imperial summons wouldn’t suffice—apparently ignored numerous times in the past—and the person pursued only the whims of their curiosity.
The telepathic device granted personally received no thought waves, and letters sent were met with silence. Prioritizing her hobbies above all else, including herself and the empire, was a manifestation of a being entirely non-human.
In the end, the resemblance in form was superficial; they were fundamentally different beings. Fully understanding them was near impossible.
“Hmm… how’s the road situation?”
“We’ve mobilized the garrison guards, but… no sign of anything. In the city, the commander of the Guard Office generously deployed the elite Hunter Troop since yesterday… but…”
“Not found yet…”
The capital’s guards were generally excellent. Selected from guard companies across the various fiefs, they had years of experience, were well-mannered, and skilled in facial recognition. Compared to the lackluster guards in smaller towns, these were undoubtedly superior.
Fuelled by their merit, they were passionate about their responsibilities and excelled particularly in thorough inspections and border controls. And the Hunter Troop under the Guards Office, composed of skilled hunters and scouts, were top-tier explorers. Their forte lay in reconnaissance and pursuit battles, but even urban exploration was handled admirably.
Given these connections fully utilized, their combined efforts were nothing short of extraordinary. It was impossible for a private household to mobilize the guard corps, and the Guards Office itself was practically untouchable. Everything, it seemed, owed to the hard work of the steward, the relatives on the verge of collapse, and the goodwill of the clergy.
Yet, against this dream team, the runaway daughter remained elusive.
No matter how brilliant the intelligence web, how could a young noblewoman, who spends her days in prayer and service at a manor, evade capture continuously for three days? She found it immensely baffling, as did everyone involved in the search.
Are we truly chasing a sheltered noble daughter?
One might more easily accept the notion of hidden spirits.
“Please continue the search. I’ll meet the mage recommended by the steward.”
“Understood. However, the situation with that… it’s almost…”
Hearing the subordinate’s words, she murmured, “Ah.” Originally, she was deeply occupied with adjusting that matter, but the escape of the successor overshadowed everything. It had been delegated to someone else, but it seemed to have proceeded well.
Most importantly, this would surely captivate even her notoriously distracted employer enough to cut short their endless discussions. The reasons behind why such a simple question had extended for so many months could be clarified later.
“I’ll see the mage, connect with them, then visit directly.”
“Huh? No, you can delegate that to someone. Please, Miss Mechtild, take a break…”
“There are matters related to our introducer. I’ll handle it,” she replied, pushing the tempting porridge offering out of her line of vision with determination. She retrieved a heavy dark cloak from the rack, styled as a single-shoulder greatcoat, embroidered with the crest of “a cup broken down the middle” in silver thread.
The crest of the Ehlstraih family symbolized the overturning of antiquated systems, favoring merit over lineage—a stark reimagining of their ancient ancestral crest. Bearing this emblem, the attendant suffering from gastric issues stood up to meet a mage with advanced detection spells.
And to report to her employer about the “arrival of an airship” in the capital…
—
The atmosphere in the city lately had a touch of unease, as if a terrorist event had occurred.
The patrol guards at intersections had doubled, and a light inspection protocol was in place throughout the city. Even with the spring goods transport winding down, the market inspections were surprisingly strict.
However, what unsettled her more were the citizens of the imperial capital, who accepted it all with a blasé “here we go again” attitude.
“Ah, it’s common in the capital,” said Mika, a friend who had lived in the imperial capital for a few years longer, picking up an apple from a roadside stall. It was a popular product cultivated in the empire, developed from varieties originating from the northern island regions, redder and sweeter than the original strains.
“When foreign dignitaries come, it’s always like this. It’s probably another audience, isn’t it?”
Still, something about the everyday apple in the hands of a transformed friend felt oddly profound.
“Hey, what’s up, Erich?”
“Uh… you look good with the apple…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The combination of “a slightly taller handsome young man” than myself and the apple was, quite simply, picture-perfect. Set against the bright spring sky, he turned around, and his bite into the juicy apple seemed like something out of a dating sim game event screen.
He was a beauty to behold. Indeed, this marked the male phase of a transformation cycle. The first time I met him, I was honestly shocked. That adorable girl-face had morphed into a neutral look and now into an elegant young man drawing gazes from every noble lady in the streets.
His hair exhibited a stronger wave compared to its neutral state, giving his sharp-eyed gaze even more intensity. His refined nose bridge remained unchanged from both his neutral and female phases, but his broader shoulders added a dependable aura, leaving others with no choice but to feel envious.
Oh dear, Lord Raizenitz mustn’t meet him now. It would surely be a bullseye, and there’s no telling what embarrassing scenarios might unfold.
“You always say strange things. Anyway, you’re looking pale again. You should eat something.”
Despite repeatedly seeing his charms, the moment I admired him, he tossed the bitten apple over to me, clearly concerned. Sharing snacks bought from roadside stalls like this was old hat by now. There was no longer any room for embarrassment about indirect kisses.
However, my current complexion was likely too pale.
“I’m worried about my sister lying down, but holing up endlessly isn’t good for you either. If I hadn’t dragged you out, you’d have hidden in that root cellar for three days.”
“Haha, please don’t say that. Eliza is my most important little sister. Please understand my concern.”
Speaking of which, how had I spent those three days? It’s as simple as that. I’ll summarize it in one sentence:
I had been cloistered with two others in Lady Agrippina’s workshop.
The reasons were simple. First, since she had ties to the clergy, she probably had no direct connection to the mages in the Magic Academy, making it less likely for the imperial authorities to reach inside. Besides, personal workshops couldn’t be raided unless serious charges like treason were in play, so there was no problem with the guards.
Secondly, the lethargic heretic was rather protective of their privacy despite being intrusive themselves, so the workshop was shielded by barriers that even my study-above-all comprehension couldn’t unravel, ensuring a modicum of safety against even high-ranked mages.
Lastly, as for reasons that could cover our being holed up and constantly present? They were aplenty. Withdrawal into a workshop was as ordinary for mages and apprentices as white-collar workers commuting on crowded trains. Plus, if it was claimed that my live-in sister was unwell, it was nothing abnormal for me to be summoned for nursing, or even bring in guests under the pretense of treatment without being questioned.
ID entry records weren’t tracked with such meticulous detail. If you stayed normal, nobody would suspect anything if someone entered and never came back out.
—Well, considering the kind of facility it was, there might be numerous instances of “people going in and never coming out.” In fact, there were rumors of “the same person stepping outside repeatedly.”
Oh well, no matter what, even the light under the lighthouse can be dim, and the bluebird of good fortune often resides close by.
“You’re always changing when your sister’s involved… but even someone like you would find this interesting, I suspect.”
As I bit into the apple, this friend hugged my shoulder, leaning close enough to whisper into my ear. Was it a side-effect of their male transformation? Such physical contact had increased somehow.
And the object that sparked my interest—what could it be?
“If I say a ‘flying ship’ is coming to the capital, would you not be curious?”
A ship that flies…?
