༺ Eleanor Luden Griffin ༻
“Hmm.”
Deia savored the warmth and aroma of her tea, swirling it on her tongue as one might do with fine wine.
In Norseweden, where even tea leaves were scarce, she indulged in this small luxury, savoring every last drop.
Perhaps it was the sense of stability that had recently settled in her life, but she found herself increasingly at ease.
Her eldest brother, Darius Verdi, had been relentlessly training since his loss to Findenai. And because of this, the local militia could hardly slack off since their lord was training. Their military’s overall skill had improved.
Moreover, the Scrapyard Nomads had been surprisingly cooperative in spite of their leader’s absence. In fact, there were even rumors circulating about a budding romance between a woman from Norseweden and a man from the Scrapyard Nomads. This was a sure sign of improving relations.
“How peaceful.”
Just as Deia allowed herself to relish this moment of tranquillity, she was immediately jolted back to reality.
“Ah, my lady!”
A maid’s frantic voice reverberated from beyond the office door.
Deia sensed that this peace was about to shatter. She could practically hear the noise of the incoming turmoil.
The maid immediately entered the room, clutching a letter.
“T-this just arrived! It’s from the Magic Tower!”
“The Magic Tower?”
Deia’s eyebrows furrowed as she took the letter. It bore the unmistakable seal of the Magic Tower.
‘Could it be… did something happen to him?’
Her thoughts raced back to the shocking revelation about a spirit possessing Deus.
‘He can’t have been discovered as a necromancer, can he?’
Almost forgetting to breathe, her hands trembled as she hastily opened the letter.
Reading its contents, her shoulders involuntarily tensed.
“Confession? A necromancer?”
From Deia’s muttered words, the maid seemed to have grasped the gravity of the situation.
“Execution? Mage Tribunal Judges?”
Crumple.
She crushed the letter in her hand and took a deep breath to regain her composure, her face managing a slight smile.
After nodding to herself, almost as if to cement her resolve, she quickly finished her tea.
“Haah.”
Yes, calm down…
Calm down…
“There’s absolutely no way, right?! This bastard! A confession? Even hiding it wouldn’t be enough, and he confessed? What is he thinking?! What will happen to our land?!”
Bam!
After kicking the desk with her foot, Deia felt a stinging pain radiate from her toes, but she only blinked away a tiny tear, feigning ignorance as she continued to shout.
“Prepare the carriage and fetch my coat! We’re leaving for Graypond immediately!”
“Ah, yes, ma’am!”
The maid rushed out, leaving Deia’s mind swirling with conflicting thoughts.
She had anticipated their next meeting would be no sooner than next year, given his responsibilities at Loberne Academy.
But to think they would meet again so soon.
It will take some time to reach Graypond, so their reunion would roughly be a month from their last encounter.
That is, if he was still alive.
The revelation about another soul inhabiting Deus’ body had left her unprepared for an immediate response, but for the moment…
“It’s a relief you’re at least alive.”
She ought to be able to save him from the worst outcome, right?
* * *
It took Princess Eleanor about a week to travel back to Graypond from the Loberne Academy. Since, unlike my arrest, her journey wasn’t accelerated by warp magic.
“Whew.”
So, what had I been up to during this waiting period?
I had been taking lessons from the Dark Spiritualist.
Up until now, my Necromancy was rudimentary, only allowing me to transform the mana residing in souls into basic spells.
And although the Archmage and his disciples kept a close watch, they had to exercise caution in how they treated me, given my impending meeting with the princess. Of course, I remained vigilant, but I was confident they wouldn’t intervene, allowing me to focus on learning.
“These spells are more aggressive than I thought.”
[Black magic didn’t earn its name for nothing.]
The typical Necromancer trapped spirits, tapping into their mana and lingering grudges.
As a result, spells involving necromancy were inherently violent and mana-intensive.
This approach, however, didn’t align with my own views on how souls should be treated.
I didn’t wish to impose needless suffering upon the deceased, or exert dominion over them as though they were mere assets.
However, this didn’t mean that my principles were set in stone. I could adapt my stance if circumstances dictated.
My primary goal was to mitigate the spirits’ suffering as much as possible.
[You’re learning exceptionally quickly.]
The Dark Spiritualist couldn’t help but express her genuine admiration. It wasn’t surprising, given my innate affinity for souls.
In some respects, this was to be expected.
Additionally, the Dark Spiritualist played the role of being the training aid, given that she was already a spirit. She was both my mentor and a magical conduit, steadfastly facilitating my learning.
“…”
For now, I abstained from using Lemegeton. Its power had been evident during my time in the execution grounds, but I needed to develop my basic abilities.
“It is about time for me to prepare.”
Princess Eleanor returned yesterday, and our meeting was scheduled for this afternoon. My guide should be arriving shortly.
The Royal Family provided me a black jacket to wear, its design was elegant and it was adorned with gold embroidery.
[You look more refined in tailor-made attire. Have you considered a haircut?]
“…”
[Your hair has somewhat grown. A ponytail might not be a bad idea.]
She had a point. My bangs were becoming an obstruction to my vision. While the original Deus had opted for a gel-based hairstyle, I chose to keep it in its natural state.
“Let’s not dwell on that.”
I couldn’t afford to get sidetracked right now. Eleanor’s nightmares remained a mystery to me.
And given that even the Saintess had failed, caution and focus were extremely important.
[You’re lucky my disciple is no longer alive. She would have been scheming over your good looks by now.]
“Enough.”
The Dark Spiritualist tended to go off on tangents if you gave her the slightest opening.
Upon hearing my words, the Dark Spiritualist lowered her head in a somber.
The doors opened and the Archmage’s disciples greeted me.
“Follow me, the princess is waiting.”
Without hesitation, I stepped out of the room with the Dark Spiritualist trailing behind, floating lightly as she grasped my shoulder.
[Would you like some tea?]
[Hehe… Hehehe…]
[……]
Spirits were drifting through the corridor.
Looking at them, the Dark Spiritualist let out a disdainful click of her tongue.
[You’d expect a royal palace would be teeming with spirits, especially significant ones, given all the noble rivalries, hidden conflicts, and secret feuds that occur.]
“……”
[And yet, none of that is here?]
She finally fell silent after seeing me subtly shake my head in response to her monologue.
We stopped before a door at the end of the elongated hallway. The disciples fixed their gaze on me, their eyes sharply glared as they issued a warning.
“This is the princess’ private chamber. Choose your words and actions carefully.”
“Make a single misstep and we won’t hesitate to intervene. We’re watching you.”
“Haah.”
I sighed, my breath tinged with contempt for their unnecessary caution.
“To you, she may be a princess, but—”
Creak.
I entered without bothering to knock. If Princess Eleanor’s nature was as I thought it would be, then standard formalities would be counterproductive.
“—To me, she is my student.”
Eleanor appeared to be waiting for me, seated and staring vacantly in my direction. Her disheveled golden hair, the lifeless look in her eyes, and the pronounced dark circles beneath them had indicated that the situation was more severe than I initially suspected.
“Deus Verdi.”
She uttered my name, her voice tinged with a sense of fragility. The Archmage’s disciples sighed, turning away from this scene.
“Tch.”
A click of my tongue involuntarily escaped. It was clear that she hadn’t slept in days, plagued by relentless nightmares.
“Princess Eleanor, can you hear me?”
“…Huh? Ah, yes, I’m fine.”
Even after calling her name, she was still unable to focus her attention. This wasn’t just sleep deprivation, she was emotionally depleted as well.
‘Her condition is far worse than I imagined.’
This was not the Eleanor I knew. She was someone who had always been self-assured, confident, and proud of her royal lineage. She would go to great lengths to maintain her dignity, and had feared the stain on her family’s nobility more than her own life.
For example, the mere thought of her golden hair becoming tarnished, or failing to adhere to royal decorum was a foreign concept to her.
Her dedication to royalty was such that, even at the point of her death, she managed to uphold her dignity.
Proud and unyielding to the very end, even if others viewed her path as heretical, she herself walked it believing it to be the righteous way.
Eleanor Luden Griffin.
Also known as the Fallen Princess, the Insomniac Rebel, and the Dignified Ringleader.
Very much like Findenai, she was the boss who symbolized the conclusion of a chapter.
As well as a figure who was originally fated to die at the hands of Aria.
