A Paradise Meant for a Grave

Why on earth had this forest been named the Forest of Illusions?

Daisy wondered, and wondered again, as she wandered through its depths. Come to think of it, the Lowes Empire was full of names that defied all sense. The Forest of Illusions. The Red Spring. Just who had been mad enough to christen them so?

Instinct carried her blade up to meet a small demonic beast dropping from above. Its corpse gave off a foul stench — poison, most likely. Even felling a single creature that small left her gasping, and she sank to the forest floor. For all her unremarkable frame, the lean body that never seemed to hold much muscle, Daisy was the Supreme Master Knight of the empire. Beneath that unassuming exterior lay formidable stamina, and a willpower that outstripped even that — enough to bring down men two or three times her size with ease.

But the Forest of Illusions played by different rules. Beasts sprang out at every hour, from every quarter, granting no respite whatsoever. Daisy was only human; her body needed time to recover its strength, yet here there was no comrade to watch her back. Worse, the forest harbored no small number of rare beasts that were seldom seen outside its borders — creatures against which everything she had learned over the years proved useless.

Inside the forest, she couldn't even keep track of time. All she could do was think, as the darkness receded and the sun rose again, that another day had passed. She had to forage for food to sustain her strength, and find somewhere to snatch a moment of sleep away from the beasts. Though she was sure she had reached her limit, her body kept swinging the sword on instinct, cutting and cutting as she pressed on. If she hadn't already made peace with the thought of dying here, she would have perished long ago — or been crippled by some fatal wound.

The forest was dense with evergreen trees, and only a single path wound through them, so she had no choice but to walk wherever it led. No time to linger on thoughts, no strength left for longing — so why, then, the Forest of Illusions?

Aside from her physical exhaustion, the forest itself was beautiful and strange. Neither hot nor cold, it bloomed with flowers she had never seen nor heard of before. Without the beasts that leapt out without warning, it would have been nothing but a peaceful wood — though from their point of view, she supposed she was the intruder.

A strange calm had settled over her since she decided that nothing could wound her because of Franz ever again.

This place was to be her grave.

Who would have thought a paradise like this could serve as a tomb?

With that thought, Daisy cut down yet another beast. She had come here intending to die — so why did she work so relentlessly at slaughtering monsters? She couldn't understand it herself. Perhaps it was simply habit, from a lifetime spent hunting beasts at Franz's side. From the time she could first toddle, she had trained beside the crown prince, killed demonic beasts, scouted battlefields alongside him. And from some moment she couldn't name, she had loved him.

The instant his face rose in her mind again, a small beast with a thick coat of brown fur appeared softly before her. Daisy raised her sword — then slowly lowered it. Unlike the others, this one approached humans in an adorable guise and showed them illusions. It lured its prey into a dream and devoured their souls; for all its harmless appearance, it was a truly dangerous creature.

Instead of striking, Daisy quietly held out her hand. What illusion, she wondered, would it offer her?

The beast smiled sweetly, as if it had found its meal. The moment it took her hand, the world seemed to spin — and suddenly Daisy was standing in a garden of the Imperial Palace.

It was her favorite place in the entire palace. For Franz and Daisy, who lived amid the constant smell of blood, the palace garden they visited only now and then was another world entirely — something like an ideal realm.

And there stood Franz.

He was strolling through the manicured grounds, breathing in the fragrance of roses and tulips. Daisy smiled and started toward him, but her feet stayed rooted to the ground as if nailed there. She tugged at her own legs with her hands, she strained — nothing moved. All the while, the Emperor drifted farther and farther away.

"Your Majesty!"

She screamed with all her might, but no voice came out.

It felt as though she were being swallowed down into the Death Swamp, sinking deeper and deeper — and then, Arisa Amesis appeared. Dazzling golden hair, mysterious light-violet eyes worn like jewels. The Empress approached, radiant, and smiled like an angel as she took Franz's arm. They were a pair so perfectly matched they might have stepped out of a painting.

Daisy screamed herself hoarse — don't go, please look at me, look here — and tears burst from her eyes like a dam giving way.

Perhaps her desperate heart reached him. Franz stopped abruptly and looked back. Then he pulled his hand free of the Empress and came toward Daisy.

"Daisy. What are you doing all the way out here? I've been searching everywhere for you. Are you all right?"

That gentle voice, worried for her. Those eyes that seemed genuinely troubled. And above all, the warmth of his hand. It was the moment she had longed for, wished for, her entire life.

And yet she knew, from the expression on his face. This was nothing but an illusion. Something that could never, ever happen in reality.

Daisy snapped back to herself and dispatched the beast without mercy. It hadn't even managed to flee — apparently it hadn't dreamed she would break free of its illusion so quickly. The scent of garden flowers vanished, and before she knew it the beast's blood filled her nostrils.

Daisy leaned her back against a great tree. Four days had already passed. She was holding out longer than she'd expected.

After seven days, the forest cast the corpse of a dead knight out beyond its borders. What would he think, she wondered, when he saw her body? Would he shed even a single tear?

She hoped he would regret it. Regret choosing that woman — regret that it was the reason he had thrown her away.

Daisy pushed herself up, one hand braced on her sword, and headed for the heart of the forest, cutting down the beasts that sprang at her as she went. She had thrown herself into this place because she didn't want to think of him — and even inside an illusion conjured by a monster, he filled her thoughts. So that was why they called it the Forest of Illusions, then.

She wanted to wail and weep the way she had in that dream, loud and unrestrained. But she couldn't. In all her life, she had never once cried like that.

"His Imperial Majesty is unwell and will be recuperating for the time being."

Around that time, back at the Imperial Palace, Verdi was busy cleaning up the aftermath. The Emperor had bolted from the palace after reading a single letter left behind by a knight, and not a word had come from him since. The nobles assembled in the audience hall murmured among themselves — after all, never once since his coronation had the Emperor been too ill to attend to state affairs.

"For any urgent matters, you may consult with me directly. I will sort them out and report to His Majesty."

There was a weight in Verdi's sharply gleaming black eyes that overwhelmed the assembled lords, and the nobles did not press the matter further. Then again, he was the empire's foremost strategist and a prodigy who had been famous since childhood — his words carried all the more conviction for it.

Once he had finished the day's business with the nobles, Verdi let out a long sigh and made his way to the Emperor's office. Whoever the Emperor was to him, no one could have stopped him from going to the Forest of Illusions. Sending Matheus along with him had simply been the best option available. If Daisy had truly gone into the forest, then no matter what happened in there, she wouldn't return for a week at the earliest.

"What on earth happened? He's ill, they say?"

Andre Maxstein came hurrying over to ask. Tall and bespectacled, he was scattered-brained in most matters, but when it came to numbers there was no one sharper.

"Let's go inside and talk."

The moment Verdi and Andre moved to enter the office, Arisa appeared, escorted by her head maid, Christine Ward. She greeted Verdi and Andre with a gracious inclination of her head.

"We pay our respects to Her Imperial Majesty the Empress."

Verdi and Andre bowed in return.

"I heard that His Majesty the Emperor is unwell, so I have come. What seems to be the trouble?"

Arisa's voice was honeyed with concern.

"I inquired of the palace physician before coming, but was told the matter could not be discussed."

Andre, utterly at sea, glanced back and forth between Verdi and Arisa. What kind of illness could possibly need to be hidden from the Empress herself? Verdi, for his part, watched Arisa without a flicker of expression.

"They would not even admit me to his chambers. Surely nothing dreadful has happened to His Majesty?"

Arisa pressed, her tone delicate but insistent.

"If His Majesty the Emperor has chosen to tell no one, I imagine there is a reason."

Verdi answered in a level, unhurried voice.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I humbly ask that Your Majesty understand — this is not a matter a mere subject may speak of freely."

Verdi bowed his head and said it with impeccable courtesy. But the content of the words was boundlessly insolent. However it was dressed up, it meant one thing: I know, and you will not.

"You have a duty to answer Her Majesty's questions honestly, my lord."

The head maid chided him from behind — but her bluster melted away like snow under Verdi's withering gaze. She had thrown her mistress's favor about and dared to raise her voice at a marquis's son, a strategist, the Emperor's closest confidant. Verdi was not a man inclined to tolerate such insolence.

He turned to Arisa and regarded her with the height of politeness.

"His Majesty will explain everything in due course, so please don't worry yourself. Nothing will change, no matter how much the Empress frets over it. Keeping your mind at ease and focusing on the child you carry — that is what serves everyone best."

With that, Verdi took his leave. Andre flailed about somewhere in the middle of it all, then scurried after Verdi into the Emperor's office.

"Is it really all right to just send the Empress away like that?"

Andre asked anxiously.

"I've watched His Majesty since he was quite young. You and I both."

"…"

"I don't know what happened between His Majesty and the Empress, but one thing is certain — he does not hold her in his heart. Not truly."

"What is that supposed to mean? They're even having a child."

"You'll find out… eventually. And for what it's worth, rough around the edges as she is, I think well of Lady Rainer. I hope she comes through this safely. For the sake of the empire's future."

"Why on earth are you bringing up Lady Rainer all of a sudden?"

Andre just kept blinking his wide, uncomprehending eyes. But Verdi offered no answer — only a faint, bitter smile.