This story is part of the Wanderer series.
Stars glimmered. The empty moon left the courtyard in darkness. The chirping of crickets filled the windless night.
A candlelight flickered from the study room window. Akasuki sat at the grand table, on the other side of where he usually stood, facing towards the night. Elbows forward and mouth hidden behind his intertwined fingers, he stared at the upside-down table map in silence, eyes wandering across it. From this angle, its features became unfamiliar. It became novel. The cold, mountainous north now blocked the south. The continental ocean dominated the west. The protrusions of their continent stretched out to the left. And the troublesome kingdoms of the southern peninsula sat on top, overlooking the land below. Wandering back to find his home, he couldn’t. Sweeping too far to the right, then to the left, he eventually settled on the candle holder. It eclipsed the palace, the steppes of the former Horde, and the early stretches of the blossoming empire. The candle flame steadily wavered, providing a beacon of light to illuminate the continent.
As Akasuki stared at the flame, his mind returned to an earlier night, not too long ago.
On another dark night in the study, Akasuki was sitting at his desk, writing. An overwhelming aura suddenly washed over him, stronger than before. Looking up, he saw Miyako standing at the top of the platform stairs, staring at him. He blinked, unsure if he was seeing a mirage, until the princess moved, stepping down the platform and towards him. She wore a dark and weary expression, as if she had endured a thousand ghosts.
“I told my father my intention to join the Eighth Division again,” she began, her voice hoarse.
Though she parted her lips, appearing to have more to say, not another word came out. She pressed them close and swallowed, apparently clearing her throat. However, the growing uncertainty in her face revealed she had no more.
Akasuki slipped his quill back into its stand and straightened back. “You will return to command the front?” he deduced.
Her weary eyes began to shimmer. “Yes.”
He said nothing more, studying the dark circles under her eyes.
“This is not goodbye…” the princess hastily clarified.
Blinking, Akasuki straightened some more, refocusing his attention. “Of course.”
“I enjoyed my time growing the royal magic division with you. I really did,” Miyako added. “However, all these years I spent away from the front… the growing prosperity of the empire made me soft, and complacent…”
She paused, taking a deep and shaky breath. Her eyes stayed awkwardly locked to his, unblinking.
“… and because of that, Uncle is now dead.”
“You needn’t be so harsh on yourself,” Akasuki murmured, trying to soothe her. “Asahi’s death is not solely yours to blame. Or any one person. There were larger moving mechanisms in our empire that led to this blunder.”
“That’s why I need you to lead the royal magic division,” she asserted, her voice gaining some confidence. “To foster… and to grow it while I am away at the front. There is no one else I would entrust with our most powerful sorcerers.”
Coming to a realization, he blinked again. “Is that what you meant before you left?”
“Yes. You are taking my place,” she affirmed. “You will be made ‘General.’”
Akasuki remained stoic to the news.
“Though, we will not be apart for long.” Shoulders slouching a bit, she finally dropped her gaze for a brief instant before raising it again. “You will see me soon enough. In the future, the royal magic division will no longer be its own special group, and instead integrate into the Eighth.”
This news brought him to slightly raise his brows. “You wish to bring the children to the front?”
“Not everyone,” she clarified. “Only the ones ready and willing to fight. Others will remain here and support the empire, just as they are now.”
Breaking eye contact, Miyako turned her head towards the windows.
“However, we must encourage as many of them to be ready to fight, for the sake of our empire.”
With a deep breath, she sighed.
“We cannot continue at our current pace. New enemies are born each time we take in new territory, whether by war or treaty. If we cannot deal with them quickly, then we cannot ensure our prosperity.”
Lifting her hands up, she joined them at her abdomen, clasping them in comfort.
“Wanderers are the key to that prosperous future. The sooner we can unite the continent, with one voice to follow, the sooner we can bring about peace.”
Akasuki remained silent for a moment, taking in what he just heard. “And if the children are not willing to fight?”
“Then they will aid it,” she laid out simply, her eyes becoming sharp even as she stared into the empty night. “They will aid it. For the sake of their nation.”
Saying no more, he stared at the princess’s face. Though she directed her gaze not towards him, he could feel her piercing eyes, sharp as a blade, as if they were pointed at him, brimming with conviction. He knew in an instant what it would mean if anyone refused her conviction.
Without another word, she turned away from him, and walked back to the stairs. Walking across the platform, she exited the study through the large open doors. As she left, the doors creaked towards each other, moving on their own.
The candlelight flickered. In its tray, it was running out of wicker, the flame coming close to drowning in its melted wax. Akasuki broke contact with the flame, glancing up. It was still night. A moonless night.
Sitting back in his chair, he then got up. Turning around and taking three steps towards his desk, he stopped. He became still again.
Lifting his chin to the ceiling, he breathed out. He managed to convince some of the older children to believe in this future. However, he feared as his princess’s regret grew darker and darker, so too would her blade sharpen.
He knew, when she returned to him, grim and weary, what she must have done. What her fervent love, and her rancorous anguish, must have driven her to do. He had seen her like this before. Never did he imagine the true magnitude of destruction she exchanged for the cherished life that was taken from her.
Those with power will use it, Akasuki silently ruminated to himself. No matter how diligent, how virtuous a soul may be. The potential to change their world, to keep their grasp on their destiny, to control what they cannot. It is intoxicating, is it not? Were he in possession of great power, at a critical junction, could he remain more noble than she? The highest of standard bearers for this great continental empire. He contemplated. He wondered.
What is this new world we have brought upon ourselves?
End.