SPRFGR C1

Chapter 1. Prologue (1)

Imperial Year 17, March—the First Day of the God of War.

“Long live the Republic!”

The girl was dressed in a dark crimson dress, so deep in color that it appeared almost black at first glance, and wore a bonnet that completely covered her hair. Yet even in such an outfit, she ran surprisingly fast. Hah, hah… Her ragged breathing pounded in her skull as though her heart were beating inside her head. Her chest felt as if it might burst.

She glanced over her shoulder.

“Catch her!”

“A traitor has infiltrated the palace! Don’t let her escape!”

The white statues stood in neat rows, gazing straight ahead with the same languid expressions they wore every other day. Behind the small shrubs, meticulously trimmed by the gardeners into cones, rectangular prisms, spheres, and other elegant shapes, palace guards in blue uniforms came running toward her. Fierce hounds, so ferocious that wolves might have seemed more appropriate, bounded through the crowd with their eyes rolling wildly.

Behind them, smoke rose toward the sky from the cluster of quaint little houses that looked like delicate sugar sculptures. In the distance stretched a brilliant blue sky, beneath which the golden dome of the Imperial Palace gleamed.

Boom! Boom!

The bombs exploded.

It had lasted only a brief moment, but it had given her enough time to smile.

The girl let out a small laugh and shouted at her pursuers,

“Down with the tyrant!”

Then she ran.

She was dressed as prettily and adorably as a doll, but the shoes that occasionally flashed beneath her skirt as she ran could not, even in the loosest sense of the word, be called beautiful. They were made of faded cloth, their original color impossible to discern, and were the sort of shoes worn by coachmen and dockworkers, who tightened the laces firmly so they could move quickly.

She could not afford to give up comfortable, practical footwear merely because she was visiting the Imperial Palace.

Especially when she had come to throw a bomb.

In that case, giving them up would have been even more foolish.

“After her! The traitor is heading into the gardens!”

“Don’t kill her! That woman is one of the People’s Faction!”

Woof, woof!

The hounds barked when they caught sight of her.

They had been bred and trained for generations to hunt birds, rabbits, foxes, and other game for their masters. Having caught the scents of gunpowder and blood, they ran with their tongues lolling from their open jaws, barking furiously as they chased her.

The guards, already beginning to tire, drew the small pistols hanging from their belts. Some crouched down to aim; others took aim from a standing position.

“Capture her and interrogate her about her accomplices! Shoot her in the arms or legs!”

an officer shouted.

Even then, the girl continued running like a rabbit pursued by a lion.

When she finally rounded a corner, the increasingly enraged guards summoned the last of their strength and charged after her.

Bang, bang…

Gunshots rang out.

They had not taken proper aim, and the girl was unharmed.

She shouted one last time:

“Long live the people!”

The wind seemed to answer her, rushing through the branches with a deep, humming sound.

“That—That damned girl…!”

The dogs leaped over a guard who had fallen after his legs gave out.

How could they possibly lose a terrorist caught red-handed after bombing the Crown Prince’s villa—someone who was clearly a lackey of the rebel organization known as the People’s Faction?

It was unthinkable.

The palace guards ran with all their might.

They had never imagined it would be so difficult to catch a girl wearing a skirt that dragged with layers of lace.

What happened that afternoon was neither the first nor the last such incident in the history of the Ilgentavita Empire.

The “merciful Emperor, His Majesty Elderic I, who watched over all his people as a father would,” had set out on campaign immediately after ascending the throne and conquered every kingdom on the continent.

After nearly twenty years of wars of conquest, he had destroyed all the neighboring nations and transformed them into colonies of the Empire.

The Ilgentavita Empire was flourishing in greater beauty and splendor than any civilization since the beginning of recorded history.

A magnificent and majestic Imperial Palace. Refined and elegant fashions worn by the nobility. Delicacies so exquisite that they melted the moment they touched the tongue…

There was nothing the imperial capital of Ilgenisglar did not possess.

And yet, even in this supposed age of peace and prosperity, rebels daring enough to voice their discontent were steadily gathering their strength, waiting patiently for their opportunity.

The girl who had just thrown a bomb at the Crown Prince’s summer villa was one of those rebels.

She was sixteen, perhaps seventeen years old.

Long, luxuriant curls spilled from beneath her bonnet, fluttering wildly in the wind. Sweat had begun to bead on her forehead. The summer breeze felt cool as she tore through it.

Comrades, we succeeded.

She murmured the words under her breath, where no one could hear them.

Then she gritted her teeth and kept running.

That morning, dressed in that same crimson dress, she had walked boldly through the main gate of the Imperial Palace.

The gatekeeper, noticing the single ribbon on her hat and the dress that was distinctly out of step with fashionable society, had asked which noble household she served.

She already knew the names of all the aristocrats who frequented the Imperial Palace. So she gave him the name of a household known to employ a large number of servants.

The gatekeeper let her through without asking any further questions.

After all, who could have imagined that a seemingly innocent young maid was actually an officer of the largest underground revolutionary organization in the Empire?

Wealthy imperial citizens and nobles frequently brought dark-skinned girls from the colonies into their households, either to serve as personal maids or simply as exotic ornaments.

So the palace guards had not even bothered to inspect the basket she claimed contained snacks for her mistress.

If they had merely lifted the lid, they would have discovered the bomb.

Still, it was almost laughable…

She would never be able to use the same trick again, but she had succeeded, and that was all that mattered.

Even as she ran hard enough to taste blood in her mouth, the girl was grinning brightly.

Damn it. Just how enormous is this garden?

If you ran at full speed for more than ten minutes, eventually you would start laughing whether you wanted to or not.

It was as though the muscles in your face began moving on their own, the same way they did when you were grinning foolishly at something amusing.

Her chest felt tight.

Her legs hurt.

She felt as though she might bite her tongue.

She clenched her teeth and kept running.

Woof, woof!

The dogs barked.

Shrubs as tall as two grown men formed walls around her. The sound of water gushing from artificial ponds and fountains was perfect for masking footsteps.

The girl plunged deeper into the gardens.

“Damn it! Where did she go?”

“Search for her!”

Where did I go wrong?

She retraced everything in her mind, going all the way back to the day she had received her orders, searching for anything she might have forgotten or done incorrectly.

She had measured the gunpowder herself and made the bomb. She had hidden it inside the snack basket. That morning, she had left the safe house and made her way to the Imperial Palace, constantly checking to make sure she was not being followed.

Everything had gone exactly as she had been instructed.

Assassinate the Crown Prince. Don’t worry about what happens afterward. We have someone planted inside the Imperial Palace. They will help you escape—

Everything had gone according to plan.

Following the intelligence she had received, she had gone to the Crown Prince’s summer villa, where he was supposedly meant to remain from morning until night. She had thrown the bomb toward the window of the sitting room where he was supposed to be.

She had watched the bomb shatter the window and disappear inside.

It had probably detonated beneath the sitting-room table.

A deafening explosion.

Shrapnel flying in every direction.

Her ears ringing from the blast.

She had immediately turned and run, with the palace guards in blue uniforms and a pack of hunting dogs close behind.

The vivid blue sky.

The white clouds drifting aloofly overhead, as though they had no concern whatsoever for the affairs of the earth.

The girl brilliant yellow dome of the Imperial Palace, gilded in gold.

She could see none of it.

The girl simply ran.

And ran.

Where did it go wrong?

Had the person who was supposed to help her been discovered?

If so, was she the only one left?

Before she realized it, she had already entered the maze at the heart of the garden.

Two walls of hedges stood between the rebel girl and an entire squad of palace guards.

Since the girl made no sound, however, the guards merely assumed they had lost her.

It’s all right if I’m caught now. I killed the Crown Prince.

Thinking this, the girl began searching for the exit of the maze and prepared to run again.

Then—

“We have received word that His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince is safe!”

“They say His Highness went to the main palace to visit His Majesty the Emperor! His Imperial Highness is unharmed! Continue the search!”

The guards shouted.

Her vision went white.

She had tried to assassinate the Crown Prince once before.

Even then, he had somehow escaped as easily as though he were mocking her.

No. This can’t be.

The first time might have been a coincidence.

But twice?

How could a tyrant who was supposed to be the target of an assassination be this lucky?

Could he really have luck on his side, too?

The dogs began barking as though they had picked up her scent.

Their barking grew closer.

Woof, woof, woof.

The pounding of military boots was now just nearby.

The girl desperately looked around.

The walls of hedges that she had thought would protect her had now completely blocked her path.

The guards were closing in from both sides.

Is this really the end?

So this is how it ends.

She had no regrets.

As she had planned, she squeezed her eyes shut and slowly raised her pistol.

That was when it happened.

Suddenly, everything before her went dark.

It was as though she had stepped beneath the shade of a tree.

But trees did not suddenly walk toward you—

The girl opened her eyes.

A man was standing over her.

He was tall, appeared to be around twenty-five years old, and bore the same heavenly punishment as she did.

He was a colonial.

In this Empire, dark skin was a mark branded upon a person by the heavens.

But what was someone like him doing in the very heart of the Imperial Palace?

The girl stared at him in shock, mouth hanging open.

The man spoke quietly.

“I apologize for the wait. I hope I’m not too late.”

She was too stunned to speak.

The girl merely blinked at him in bewilderment before shaking her head.

“I think they’re over there!”

The encirclement was closing in.

The man smiled as though he had not the slightest fear.

Her heart pounded violently.

Without thinking, the girl placed a hand over her chest.

Only then did she realize that when she had thrown the bomb, liquid explosive had spilled onto her hand, burning the back of it and her palm.

It hurt.

But somehow, the pain no longer seemed important.

She looked at the man.

“I’ll get you out of here. I’m going to use teleportation magic. We need somewhere far enough away, but still within the range of my magic… The sewer entrance leading to the Andeershönen River should be ideal. Change your clothes there, treat your injuries, and wait until you receive further instructions. Can you do that?”

“I can. B-but, Comrade…”

The girl answered.

The man she called Comrade grinned.

“I’ll get out, too. Don’t worry about me.”

“B-but today… I failed! I-I couldn’t kill the Crown Prince…!”

She felt as though she had to tell him.

The moment she saw that smile, the thought came to her.

Perhaps I don’t deserve to be treated like this.

I don’t deserve to see such a warm smile.

With a sorrowful expression, like a criminal confessing to a grave offense, she hurriedly blurted out the words.

The man shook his head.

It was as though none of that mattered.

“It’s all right. There will be another opportunity. And if you want another opportunity, you have to stay alive, don’t you?”

“……!”

“All right, then. We should part ways here. You’ve done well. Until next time. Take care, Comrade.”

Snap.

The man snapped his fingers.

She closed her eyes once.

When she opened them again, she was no longer in the middle of the Imperial Palace gardens.

She was standing at the entrance to a sewer leading to the Andeershönen River, far away from the palace.

The man was gone.

At that very moment, the palace guards finally reached the end of the garden maze.

They found nothing but an empty clearing.