――Governor Gustav Morello of **Gladiator Island** **Gnunhaive**.

The significance of being bestowed this position by the Emperor of the **Holy Volakia Empire** is immense.

In Volakia, where the principle of ‘Imperial people shall be strong’ is maintained, the role of the gladiator events held on the island is particularly vital.

It serves not merely as entertainment but rather as a means to keep the populace’s minds away from internal strife, especially during the current Emperor’s rule, which seeks to prevent people from drifting too far from ‘combat’ and blunting the Empire’s razor-sharp edge.

Although it was never explicitly stated, this is how Gustav interpreted the duties he must fulfill when he was appointed governor by Emperor **Vincent Volakia**.

In fact, following this line of thought, Gustav has executed his role as governor of the island more correctly than any of his predecessors—until this very day.

“—Gustav Morello, I have arrived with the gladiators of **Gnunhaive**.”

Before the Emperor **Vincent Volakia**, who looked down upon him from the front, Gustav knelt with all four arms of his multi-armed tribe touching the ground.

—A great civil unrest shaking the entirety of the Empire, which was shattered entirely by the interference of the deceased.

In a bid to escape the rampaging army of the undead, a mass evacuation was undertaken by the residents of the Imperial Capital and surrounding areas, forcing warriors to cooperate in defiance against destruction, regardless of whether they were regular or rebel troops.

While efforts were made to disperse the overwhelming number of refugees, over half found refuge within Fortress City **Garkla**. After joining their support and entering **Garkla**, Gustav was granted an audience with Vincent.

“——”

In a chamber of the massive fortress, beside the kneeling Gustav was the puzzled-faced **Idra Misanga**.

The lawless group of gladiators had renamed themselves the **Pleiades Battalion**, with Natsuki **Schwarz** as the leader and Gustav serving as the strategist. Idra was selected by Gustav to assist in roles beyond mere chaos.

Among the gladiators closely interconnected with Schwarz, Idra, possessing significant thoughtfulness and calmness, was a coveted asset among the ragged band.

Still, in front of the Emperor, he could not showcase that calmness all of a sudden.

“I have received reports about your actions from **Ziqru Osman**. That one… Natsuki **Schwarz** was also bragging about his achievements.”

“Bragging… aah.”

Perhaps because of excessive tension, Idra’s face instantly turned pale when he blurted that out.

With narrowed black eyes, Vincent, known for his exquisite and delicate features yet fierce temperament, could easily strike fear into the hearts of citizens who only knew him through rumors.

Nonetheless, as Gustav gazed up at Vincent while still kneeling, he said, “Your Majesty, this is Idra Misanga, one of the gladiators, yet he supports our efforts with work that others cannot do. I ask you, once this turmoil settles, for a pardon—”

“You’re unusually talkative today, Gustav Morello. But—”

“—Ugh.”

“Since you say he is precious, it must be so. Do your utmost. If you wish to speak of the post-war situation, ensure you have the results and lives to back your words.”

“Y-yes! I am truly grateful!”

In a moment of excitement, Idra threw himself flat on the floor, forehead hitting the ground.

Joyful to have escaped death, Idra, who had been nothing more than a regular flour miller’s son, did not realize the significance of being spoken to favorably by Vincent.

Of course, Gustav believed in Idra’s merit but simultaneously felt something different in Vincent—his newfound leniency towards others.

Vincent, after all, was a wise emperor, perhaps overly so.

Because of this, there was a detachment in Vincent’s coldness towards those who could not share in his foresight.

Yet, it felt as if the emperor was no longer solely that way.

“But you sure pulled something bold, huh?”

Interrupting Gustav’s thoughts, Vincent spoke.

At the Emperor’s words, Gustav closed his mouth, which had protruding fangs, and waited for Vincent to continue.

In his silence, Vincent’s narrowed eyes grew even slighter.

“What I ordered you was to serve as the governor of **Gladiator Island**. And yet, instead of upholding that duty in times of emergency, you led the gladiators all the way to the eastern capital… to proffer your neck before an Emperor who could shake the ground itself under a single word?”

Seated in a large chair, with his chin resting on his hand, the words of Vincent were accompanied by a faint sound from Idra, who made a small whimper.

The extreme of disrespect towards an Emperor, a situation where an Imperial citizen would normally dare to sacrifice themselves.

“—If you have a few explanations to make, then?”

“I permit it. However, choose your words carefully. Even should you lose both arms, I can still expect admirable work from you, right?”

Yet, Gustav did not dwell in despair but boldly answered back, and Vincent allowed it with a gaze that could be taken as either sadistic or provocative.

In the face of that, Gustav found outrageous calmness within himself. Perhaps it was under the influence of that very fearless boy who immersed himself in bravado.

“Your Majesty says that I have abandoned my duties as governor, but that is not the case. Moreover, leading the gladiators is not my doing—”

“Not yourself?”

“—It is the Emperor’s son.”

The moment he declared that, Gustav would never forget Vincent’s reaction.

“——–”

For an instant, Vincent’s black eyes widened in shock, displaying an expression rid of severity.

It was a reaction that could only be described as being caught off-guard. It was clear that both the speaker and the content were entirely unexpected to Vincent.

In a fleeting emotion, Vincent quickly covered his mouth and then added, “I had valued your loyalty and unflagging dedication.”

“Agreed, Your Majesty. However, if both you and I were to think as we have until now, we would merely be waiting at the western edge while the Empire faced its gravest crisis.”

Had Schwarz not taken the reckless measure of occupying **Gladiator Island**, Gustav would have been buried in managing the gladiators, remaining on the island during the Empire’s upheaval.

No matter whatever may happen in the capital, he would have been obediently doing as commanded, thinking of the merit of an achievement with nobody left to evaluate it.

Thinking back on what could have been, he found relief flooding his being.

This was the result of being seduced by Schwarz, badly misinterpreting the Emperor’s orders—an extreme case of exercising his own judgment amid an emergency for the sake of rushing to the capital.

“—If that had been the case, I could have effectively utilized you, even if the Emperor himself died along with the capital.”

“Your Majesty?”

Whether or not his judgment had been accurate, Gustav had initially believed that he could affirm his own stance, yet Vincent’s words hinted of another motive.

Vincent, however, would not let that ambiguity wash over them.

Instead, he shook his head, saying, “Very well, I will indulge you in your ambitions. Within the crisis of this Empire’s survival, strive to win both your own fate and the gladiator’s pardon.—Withdraw.”

“Understood. I shall do my utmost!”

A consensus was reached between Gustav and Vincent regarding the handling of this ‘crisis.’

Whether Gustav had acted outside of the duties of a governor would now rely on his own actions and those of the **Pleiades Battalion** moving forward.

Though he did not feel entirely confident that he would succeed, Gustav felt he would at least not regret being led by Schwarz.

Just as he curled his lips up slightly to take his leave in front of the Emperor—

“Your Majesty, if you would allow me to ask something—”

Suddenly, Idra opened his mouth while keeping his forehead pressed to the floor, causing Gustav to unconsciously gasp.

With a trembling voice, Idra was bravely addressing Vincent, who had commanded them to withdraw, while awkwardly tilting his head upward, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The courage shown by Idra in the face of the ‘Spalca’ incident on the island was commendable, but to defy the Emperor’s command to withdraw would indeed be overstepping without regard for his own life.

However—

“—What is it?”

Surprisingly, Vincent replied, catching Gustav off guard once more.

Taking advantage of that gap, Idra, sharp as a gladiator, seized the opportunity, moving his dry lips and asked, “What do you intend to do with your son, Prince **Schwarz**, after this battle?”

“**Misanga**!?”

That was a question only those deemed the bravest could pose in such an atmosphere, and wholly inappropriate and ill-timed.

The rumors surrounding the “Black-haired Prince” had been closely tied to this great civil unrest throughout Imperial history, prior to the circumstances of life and death.

Originally, the establishment of the **Pleiades Battalion** was sparked by Schwarz demonstrating willingness to confront Vincent, so the grand goals of their organization lay there.

Thus, it would be natural for Idra to wish for an answer to that from Vincent.

The issue was that Idra was oblivious to the risk of such a question endangering his life due to the tension.

“——–”

In the deep silence that ensued, Gustav became acutely aware of his uncharacteristic disquiet.

Looking back, the recent disturbances he remembered had all arisen from Schwarz or **Cecilis**, and the addition of Idra to the mix was something thought should not happen.

Just as Gustav almost diverted his mind from the situation in front of him—

“—Idra Misanga!”

Vincent’s lips called out Idra’s name.

Following that, both Idra and Gustav gaped, swallowing hard. The Emperor then crossed his long legs and continued speaking.

“As for the appropriateness of the prince’s fate—it is not for me to decide.”

Vincent’s response was confusing at best.

Even with the peak of the Empire standing before him, it was unfathomable for Vincent to claim not to have the right to determine Schwarz’s fate.

However, he would not allow Idra to press him any further.

“Withdraw while your head and body are still connected.—This is as far as it goes for disrespect.”

Having drawn a line that he would overlook up to this point, Vincent prompted a flurry in Gustav, who rushed to help Idra up, covering his mouth with his two arms while lifting him.

In that state, in which Idra was perhaps the most fortunate person in the entire fortress or maybe even the Empire that night, Gustav bowed deeply to Vincent.

Then—

“I humbly ask that you temper your feelings regarding the position of Prince **Schwarz**.”

With that final statement, Gustav concluded the matter of explanation regarding their departure from **Gladiator Island**.

△▼△▼△▼△

“Gustav Morello spoke with such earnestness. Truly a man I cannot fathom.”

Carrying Idra like a sinner and adding a final unnecessary comment before leaving, Gustav was seen off by Vincent, who sighed quietly.

Not only had he unexpectedly flown to **Gladiator Island**, but the fact that all the gladiators present and the extremely loyal Gustav had to be twisted to fit his will was frankly astonishing.

Honestly, even if Gustav denied it thoroughly, it felt more reasonable that things would not flow correctly without a **Star Caller**.

Regardless—

“Even if they join the city’s defenses, it will be far from perfect. We must be careful in selecting how we will approach the capital…”

Vincent had a plethora of strategies to consider.

While leaving the selection of allies from the allied kingdoms to experts on that side, he would also need to play appropriate cards. With **Belstetz** and **Selena** left behind in **Fortress City**, **Goz** should provide ample functionality in terms of military strategy.

In simple terms, it would be painful to lack the personnel to be incorporated into an attacking party—

“Talented individuals skilled in large-scale maneuvers are irreplaceable. In that regard, even a single **Cecilis** is worth more than ten others. Though calling that one ten would be a nightmare, if **Cecilis** has yet to join us, it suggests he must have witnessed something concerning curiosity in the capital. I wish to avert the doom of the country due to that.”

The dangers presented by the “**Stone Block**” and the shared concern among everyone acquainted with **Cecilis** was the massacre of the undead he would carry out, resulting in the depletion of the Great Spirit’s mana.

Just like **Halibel**, who prevented the black dragon with the **Dragon Carriage**, although **Cecilis** was not supposed to be outdone, the concerning issue was that he would not fall behind.

“If the country were to meet such a fate, it would be because of **Chisha**, who picked it up that day. Finding amusement in his setbacks might be delightful, but I’m also not so much of a madman that I would take joy in that.”

Vincent reaffirmed his urgency within himself when—

“—Hey, wait! Didn’t I tell you we can’t go in here, Your Highness!”

“Thus! I have not yet given my consent to what you’re saying!”

A sudden loud voice intruded, muddling Vincent’s thoughts.

A raucous, annoying yell pierced through, and as Vincent looked up, the door to the room flung open with great force.

“**Abel**! Let me borrow your face for a bit!”

“I won’t lend it!”

Charging in as if to kick down the door was a tall woman, her long golden hair dancing behind her. The brazen and unhinged **Medium O’Connell** boldly approached the Emperor, with two barbaric blades strapped to her waist.

Peeking from behind Medium was **Jamal Aurelie**, who wore a sorrowful expression as he stood frozen before the door, and Vincent pierced him with a cold stare.

“I was certain I commanded to allow only those whom I wanted to allow to enter?”

“Y-yes, that’s true, but… when it comes to Her Highness, a lowly soldier like me just didn’t know how to act…”

“Do you mean to say that you would be powerless even if a ‘General’ with treason in mind were to show face before you, who is of a lower rank?”

“E-eh! No! I mean, totally, I think Your Highness would win against the ‘General’! But, with Her Highness, I just don’t know what position she holds…!!”

Displaying a roughness here and there yet meticulously choosing his words, Jamal struggled with his reply. Vincent momentarily dismissed that and turned his gaze to the imposing **Medium** before him.

“I had heard you were holed up in here, sobbing incessantly.”

“Who said I was sobbing!? That’s so not me! Sure, maybe just a bit… well okay, I might have shed a little tear…!”

“Your brother, **Flopp O’Connell**, did.”

“Brother! Brother! Why would you say such a thing—!?”

“Simple, dear sister. Of course, I said that so that the noble Emperor would have quite the interest and protective instincts for **Medium** during the upcoming bride competition!”

As Medium was suddenly turned on and wagged a finger towards her, her brother **Flopp** nonchalantly stated his plans.

Not wishing to be left out, Jamal remained silent, but there was no time to indulge in a brother-sister squabble now.

“Even if I told Jamal, I still wouldn’t agree with this! I don’t hate **Abel**, but who knows what a queen could do!”

“Ah, I see, I see. But, sister. Even if you are my younger sister, did you become one knowing all the things a sister should be? It can be seen that you were able to become one without knowing much of anything… isn’t that right?”

“Huh? Now that you mention it… that could be true…”

“Then, whether or not one knows something is not so crucial in becoming. What’s important is your desire to become and the environment around you. Being a sister and a queen isn’t all that different!”

“Wow!!! That’s really amazing, brother…. I can’t be fooled, can I!?”

Just when it looked like a sibling quarrel was starting, **Flopp** covered his forehead in defeat, exclaiming, “That’s definitely too much!”

It seemed the sibling rivalry wouldn’t erupt after all.

“Don’t bring forth a matter that’s not settled between you two in front of me. I am busy. Jamal, lead them out!”

“W-wait! It’s not that I want to know whether I’m a queen or not! It’s not that I want to borrow **Abel’s** face for that—”

“What is it?”

“I want to be taken to the capital too!”

With a bang, **Medium** thumped her chest and stated her request clearly.

Vincent frowned at the substance of that request. Then, in a show of bravery, Medium turned to Flopp and added, “This might have taken you by surprise, but my sister isn’t saying this on a whim. Just before arriving in this city, I witnessed something in that dragon carriage.”

“—**Balroi Temegurif**”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Nodding without surprise, Flopp remembered the last defense against **Balroi Temegurif** in the **Dragon Carriage**.

Vincent recalled how **Subaru** had engaged the girl named **Spica** in a crucial act, resulting in incomplete resurrection of the lamia who had perished. It was then that **Balroi**, riding the deceased flying dragon as the “**Magic Bullet Shooter**,” had taken away her dying sister.

When Medium laid eyes on **Balroi**, her voice had faltered, repeatedly calling out.

“**Bal**… brother…”

A gentle whisper slipped from her soft voice as tears brimming in her eyes called out to **Balroi** as he grew distant.

“I have old ties with both **Medium** and **Balroi**. We used to be taken care of by **Drucloi** the Earl of **Dragoroi**. I never dreamt that we would reunite in such a manner.”

“To call that a reunion is quite the irony.”

Vincent’s words were met with a rare reduction on Flopp’s face, showing a tinge of melancholy.

The complex feelings both **Medium** and **Flopp** harbored towards **Balroi**, who had appeared changed from how he looked in life, were understandable as they faced a friend now turned undead.

However—

“——–”

Vincent would never openly admit to possessing such emotions.

At the very least, he had handed down the death sentence to the sister who arose from his own hands.

“So, how does the relationship between you two siblings and **Balroi** connect to your earlier request?”

“Don’t play dumb, **Abel**! You totally understand what I mean! You should drop that tone of yours!”

“——–”

“I want to meet **Bal** and talk to him. Even though he’s like that now, I want to find out what he’s thinking. Because—”

At first with vigor, she gradually struggled to convey her heartfelt intentions, pausing to find the most important words, and think sincerely of how to phrase them.

“Because I wanted to be **Bal**’s bride.”

“— Emotionally-based reasoning alone won’t cut it, huh?”

Responding to **Medium’s** tear-filled appeal, Vincent turned to Flopp.

As **Medium** now looked ready to spill tears at any moment, it was Flopp who had suggested her as one of the candidate queens. His true intention was undoubtedly stronger than ambition; he was concerned for **Medium**’s well-being.

“Are you fine with allowing your sister to head into a deadly place?”

“Well, well, it seems Your Majesty is unaware of how much significance **Medium** and I place on conversation! Of course, I’ve tried to stop her all the way here, using force to push her back and tend to her wounds!”

“In other words, she forced her way through. Surprising that you would ignore your brother’s suggestions.”

“I love my brother, and he’s generally right about most things. But **Medium** and I are different people, so there are times when we want to do different things. Now’s one of those times!”

Having no intention to be hindered, **Medium** regained her voice forcefully once again.

Confronted with her strong stance, Vincent pondered.

In simple terms, **Medium’s** combat strength was barely above that of an ordinary soldier.

The likelihood was high that Jamal would surpass her in swordsmanship. Bringing her along didn’t promise any steep impact on the outcome of the battle.

On the reverse, her presence implied that her role would not sway the outcome of the war.

“—Do as you wish.”

“—! Really? **Abel**?”

“Don’t be suspicious over your own demands being accepted. Your presence doesn’t influence the war’s situation. However, do understand that there are burdens you will have to bear.”

“Bearer…?”

As **Medium** expressed surprise at the reply, Flopp interrupted with, “What it means is—”

“Defend yourself. I will not have the means to spare to protect you.”

“Is that so? Then I’m fine! I’ve spent all my travels so far taking care of myself just like my big brother!”

“——–”

As she implied that if you came here with the intention to be protected just for being a queen candidate, Vincent was about to say something but was instead interrupted by **Medium** herself.

Before she could be concerned about what would be said, she breathed a sigh of relief as if she had been given a light condition.

“Phew, I was so nervous about what I was going to be told! But it’s great that **Abel** wasn’t as mean as I expected!”

Having spoken nearly exactly what he anticipated, Vincent’s lips twitched into a frown.

In any case, **Medium** had articulated her wishes and declared her understanding of the dangers inherent in going forth.

Thus, there was nothing more for Vincent to add.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Huh?”

“In the morning, we head to the capital with the selected personnel. Make preparations.”

Vincent briefly announced before directing his gaze to Flopp.

“Surely, you do not mean to accompany them? Mind you, I have no intention of debating whether a self-destructive meant-for-death corpse monster can be deemed worthy or not.”

“Thanks for your concern. But I swear I’m not trying to die. I don’t want to be a burden to my sister either. …I’ll leave **Balroi** to **Medium**.”

“Brother…”

“—I cannot say with certainty that I’ll certainly be meeting him.”

Vincent kept quiet about Flopp’s decision, but he did touch on the possibility that what he hoped for would not come to pass.

However, there was a trace of a smirk flitting across Flopp’s face as he acknowledged this possibility.

“That’s okay, we’ll surely meet.”

“Why do you believe that?”

“Because I believe in fate. In that I do not believe things will grow too unkind, despite my intent being a little cruel.”

That groundless position held a persuasion similar to **Medium’s** emotional reasoning.

However, Vincent chose to avoid referencing that further. For any remarks he made could result in this pair each doubling their responses toward him.

Besides, he felt they would surely understand without needing to say a word.

“Then, **Abel**, I’ll see you tomorrow! You need to rest; otherwise, those dark circles under your eyes are going to get crazy!”

Waving vigorously, **Medium** briskly turned her back.

The tension from earlier had completely vanished from her beautifully stretched back. If she wasn’t crying for real, it reaffirmed her as an emotional whirlwind.

Just as Flopp was about to follow **Medium** out—

“Your Majesty, thank you.”

“For what?”

“Thank you for considering **Medium**… or rather, our feelings. And for not scolding **Medium** for loving **Balroi**. Even if we are a candidate for queens.”

With a drooping expression, Flopp placed his hand on the top of his head.

Vincent snorted, responding to Flopp’s claims.

To be grateful for **Medium**’s feelings towards **Balroi**, and for not rebuking her, came across as absurd.

“Punish love? How pitiful it would be to engage in such a tasteless act.”

Flopp’s answer struck Vincent as he grinned broadly.

 

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