[Volume 2 | Chapter 53: Orion's Lioness (V)]

"Crisis Beast?" Acacia questioned.

It was a term unfamiliar to him. Perhaps if she had translated it into a less Westernized language, he would have understood better.

"They are supernatural predators that emerged during the Great Corruption," Lorelei explained impassively. "When the Convergence's influence manifested in our plane, it transformed normal species into monstrous entities—what theologians call 'manifestations of divine judgment' and scientists term 'prana-mutated apex predators.' Some, like the Fenrir, are believed to be manifestations of humanity's collective mythological consciousness given physical form. They hunt by sensing prana concentrations. The greater the thaumaturgical potential in an area, the more likely they are to attack. In this case, Vladisburg was hosting several noble families for the festival, creating many prana signatures that drew the beast for miles."

Orion's Lioness traced her scar absently.

"It came at dusk, moving so fast it was just a blur of silver fur and teeth. The nobles had their personal guards, their Regalias and newly produced Mystic Gears, their Thaumaturgy. We commoners had nothing but our wits, perhaps a spell or two, and whatever farm implements we could grab."

A shadow crossed her face, yet she continued. She tried to silence the pain, the agony, and pushed through it, as if it were just another history lesson.

Yes, something that was surely just "history" for her would be much better to digest.

"My parents... they tried to protect me. Everyone was running and screaming. The noble families retreated to their estate and sealed the gates behind them. They left us to fend for ourselves. My father—" Her voice caught momentarily. "My father pushed me behind him when the Fenrir charged… it went through him like he was made of paper."

Acacia sat motionless, yet his eyes couldn't help but stare intensely at the woman. He was forgetting to even breathe.

"My mother tried to drag me away, but the beast was on us in seconds. She died trying to shield me with her body... I still don't know how I survived. The beast's claws caught my arm as I fell, but before it could finish me, something distracted it—some noble finally decided to intervene, I think. I crawled into a storm drain and hid there for hours, listening to the screams outside, holding my arm together with strips torn from my dress."

She rolled her sleeve back down, covering the scar once more.

"By morning, the Fenrir had disappeared back into the wilderness. 37 commoners were dead, including my parents. Not a single noble casualty. Do you know what the House of Acroma did when I returned, orphaned and injured?"

Acacia knew the answer. Noble behavior generally never changed throughout the provinces.

"They informed me that my parents' debts now fell to me—that I would need to work twice as hard to compensate for their 'unfortunate absence.'" Lorelei's smile was a brittle thing. "I was expected to thank them for their 'generosity' in not casting me out entirely."

She moved back to her chair, though she didn't sit. "I wear long sleeves because people find the scar disturbing. I once overheard Lord Acroma's son tell a friend that no man would ever truly love a woman 'marked with such ugliness.' He was 18 at the time, I was 19." She laughed softly, the sound devoid of any warmth.

Acacia felt a strange sensation in his chest, a cold pressure that made it difficult to breathe. He recognized it as empathy, a feeling he'd long ago thought he'd be able to keep under control. He understood all too well the loneliness, the despair of being seen as lesser—disposable—simply because you didn't possess certain gifts or qualities that the world deemed valuable.

"How did you escape?" he asked.

"I educated myself," she replied simply. "Every moment not spent in service to the Acromas, I devoted to learning. I stole books from their library, convinced the local schoolteacher to tutor me in exchange for cleaning her home, memorized legal codes and economic principles during my few hours of sleep. By 21, I had crafted a legal argument proving the fundamental illegality of the Acromas' debt structure. I presented it directly to the provincial courts, bypassing the Acromas entirely. They were displeased, to put it mildly. But the law, for once, was on my side. My case caused a scandal that rippled through the province. Suddenly, I found myself noticed by people who could actually effect change. I was invited to speak before academic circles, reform committees, even become part of the Imperial Diet. I had become, quite by accident, a voice for the voiceless. Six years ago, Emperor Godric summoned me personally. The previous Viceroy of Orion—a staunch traditionalist by the name of Severus von Stahlmark—had died under somewhat mysterious circumstances. 'Orion needed new leadership', he said. 'Someone who understood both progress and the needs of the plebeians.'"

"He chose you? A former servant?" Acacia couldn't hide the skepticism from his tone.

"His majesty is many things, but a fool isn't one of them," Lorelei vaguely replied. "He recognized that Orion's potential lay in innovation rather than tradition, and who better to foster innovation than someone who had risen from nothing through sheer intellectual force?"

She returned to her chair at last, settling into it beautifully.

"So here I am. The youngest Viceroy in Imperial history, with more influence than the entire Acroma family could ever dream of possessing. And yet... I see the same injustices repeating throughout the Empire. Different faces, different locations, but the same fundamental abuses of power. The same casual cruelty toward those deemed 'lesser.' It is the same rigged system that ensures the privileged remain so while the rest struggle for scraps."

Lorelei leaned forward, her eyes capturing his.

And said something that utterly shattered Acacia's heart.

"I know about Litore."

That sacred word.

That terrible word.

That word he kept locked away in the deepest chambers of his heart, never spoken aloud since the night it burned.

"How—"

"The important thing is not how I know, but that I do know. I know what happened there. I know what you lost. I know about the flames, your family, everything you've been forced to endure since then."

His heart hammered against his ribs, panic and disbelief warring within him. No one in the Tachyon Empire should know about Litore—about what had truly happened there, about who he had been before he became "Acacia."

"I know."

A repetition. The simple phrase somehow broke through his barriers like nothing else could have.

Before he could respond, she moved to kneel before his chair, taking his trembling hands in hers. The gesture was so unexpected, so antithetical to the power dynamic between them, that he could only stare in shock.

"For what it's worth, I am truly sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't intervene sooner. I'm sorry that you had to endure such cruelty for so long. I'm sorry that, for all my supposed power, I couldn't spare you that pain."

Her hands were warm against his. The touch of another human being, offered without malice nor deceit, was so alien to him that his instincts screamed danger. But he couldn't pull away. Her eyes had held him utterly captive.

Only that man should have understood what he lost. That man... he should have known…

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He couldn't say his name, or even think of his name.

The man—that cherished, forbidden man—he saw him in her.

Tears he'd held at bay for years welled up, blurring his vision as Lorelei reached up to brush his hair back from his forehead with such tenderness it threatened to shatter him completely.

"I know," she whispered again, drawing him into an embrace that felt both shocking and desperately needed.

"I know, and I'm so sorry."

He should have pulled away.

He should have maintained his guard and suspicion. But the simple acknowledgment of his pain—the validation of his history by someone who somehow, impossibly, knew the truth—broke through all of the barriers he'd spent years erecting around his heart.

A sob tore from his throat as he collapsed into her arms whilst his body shook intensely. She held him tightly, one hand cradling his head against her shoulder, murmuring soft reassurances as he wept.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her own voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry I had to let you suffer until now. I'm sorry I couldn't save your family and your home. I'm so very sorry, Acacia."

"Y-you weren't t-there... it's not your fault. You didn't d-do anything," he managed to gasp out between sobs. "You couldn't h-have known..."

"But this Empire... was responsible for it all. That senseless war... Pandora carries that burden unknowingly, and I carry it as well."

Time appeared to stretch and compress simultaneously as he surrendered to grief that had nowhere else to go. When he finally quieted, exhausted by the emotional release, Lorelei gently helped him sit upright once more, though she remained kneeling before him.

"I want to create a different world, Acacia. I want to create a world where commoners, nobles, and yes, even Irregulars, can sit together as equals. I want a world where your worth isn't determined by your bloodline or your ability to manipulate prana, but by your character and contributions."

She squeezed his hands with so much power that he winced.

"I want to build an Empire where citizens replace subjects, where opportunity isn't a privilege reserved for the few, but a right extended to all, where no child ever has to hide in a storm drain while their parents are slaughtered, and no teenager is beaten for sport because they lack the 'right' abilities. It's a radical vision, I know. More radical, perhaps, than even what Pandora envisions. She seeks to reform the system from within. I seek to transform it entirely, and to dismantle the very concept of class that has divided us for centuries."

Her gaze bored into his, fierce and unwavering.

"I'm asking for your help, Acacia. I ask not as your superior, not as your savior, but as an equal who shares just a modicum of your pain and your hope for something better. I'm asking you to consider joining me in creating a new world from the ashes of the old."

She paused, allowing her words to sink in before continuing.

"I won't demand an answer now. This is too important, and far too personal a decision to be made hastily. Whether it takes you a minute or a month to decide, I will be here, ready to listen when you're ready to speak."

The Viceroy rose gracefully, moving back to her chair to give him space to process everything she had revealed—her history, her vision, and her unexpected connection to his most closely guarded secrets.

Lorelei Bismarck was a woman of great intellect and ambition, of that Acacia had no doubt. But she was also, he realized, a woman of deep passion and conviction. He had glimpsed it beneath her carefully constructed persona, but now, having experienced the raw force of her emotions firsthand, he understood that her compassion was no façade—it was as genuine as his own grief.

If it were somehow a façade, she would have to be nothing more than a demon.

And so, he would have to choose. He could continue on the path of bitterness and resentment, fueled by the injustices he'd suffered under the Tachyon Empire's oppressive system. Alternatively, he could take a leap of faith into the unknown… a choice to believe in Lorelei's vision for a future where he wouldn't have to hide, wouldn't have to pretend to be anything other than what he was.

But, in knowing who he was…

Did he truly, have any other option?

"...I've already decided."

"Your eyes are red."

Pandora's observation cut through the silence as they exited the Northern Spire's grand entrance. The afternoon sun had shifted position, forming long shadows across the plaza where the Spectre GT waited like a silver beast in repose. Hours had passed inside Bismarck's chambers, though to Acacia, it felt both longer and shorter.

"No, they're not."

"They most certainly are." Pandora's tone brooked no argument as she keyed the access sequence for the vehicle. "Your sclera shows distinct inflammation and your lacrimal ducts appear recently activated."

"Since when did you become a doctor?! It's just allergies!"

"Ah yes, the famous Windsor allergy to political meetings. Very common this time of year." The door rose and Pandora gestured for him to enter. "Particularly contagious in the Viceroy's inner sanctum, I've found."

Acacia slid into the passenger seat with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Has anyone ever told you that your manners are terrible? Because it is. Terrible. Just awful."

"I believe Dr. Amherst mentioned something to that effect during my third visit to your hospital room. Right after I suggested his treatment protocols were approximately seventy years behind current medical research." Pandora replied dryly as she settled behind the wheel.

The automobile hummed to life around them. Pandora's fingers hovered over the controls, but she made no move to engage the engine. Instead, she stared through the windshield with a distant expression.

"After I left... what did she say to you?"

The question emerged softer than her usual tone, tinged with something Acacia couldn't quite identify.

He studied her profile, and was surprised by the vulnerability evident in the line of her jaw, the slight tension around her eyes. Was it concern he detected? Suspicion? Something else entirely?

"Just... stuff about the «Red Key». How it works. Theories, mostly."

Pandora's fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

"I see."

They sat in silence, the Spectre GT's hum the only sound between them. Pandora seemed lost in thought whilst her golden eyes fixed on some point beyond the windshield that only she could see. Fragility was evident in her stillness, so at odds with her usual controlled assurance.

Is she... jealous?

Not in any romantic sense, but in the way of someone who had invested time and energy into building a connection, only to see an "outsider" achieve in moments what had eluded them for weeks. The realization was so unexpected that he almost laughed aloud—the intimidating High Inquisitor, jealous of someone else's rapport with her ward.

"Are you actually going to start the car, or are we planning to admire the plaza all afternoon?" he finally asked, breaking her reverie.

"Sorry. I was... considering the best routes."

"Uh-huh. Because that requires a full minute of blank staring."

She shot him a glare then engaged the drive system. The Spectre GT pulled away from the curb, precisely merging into the afternoon traffic. It spoke of both the vehicle's capabilities and Pandora's skill. They traveled in silence for several blocks, each lost in their own thoughts.

"I want you to teach me about Thaumaturgy."

Acacia said it suddenly, breaking the silence. Pandora responded by raising her eyebrows fractionally.

"Why the sudden interest?"

"It seems like a good idea to understand how it works, even if I can't use it myself. Heinemann didn't go deep into theory, merely application. The libraries were also rather basic in terms of knowledge."

His explanation wasn't entirely untrue. Heinemann Academy back in Ocarina had focused on practical applications, barely scratching the surface of the underlying principles. The libraries, too, had been limited in scope. His true motivation lay elsewhere, though he couldn't bring himself to admit that just yet.

"It's best to know how these powers work from the root of it all, especially if I'm going to be surrounded by Thaumaturges and potentially facing more powerful people in the future."

For a moment, he thought she might refuse or question his motives further. Instead, a small smile curved her beautiful lips.

"I've been wanting to suggest that for some time," she admitted. "Yeah, I agree. Understanding the principles of Thaumaturgy would give you substantial advantages when confronting hostile practitioners. Knowledge is often the best defense against that which you cannot directly counter."

"So you'll teach me?"

"Theory only, for now. But yes, I would be... pleased to teach you what I can."

"Then it's settled. Teacher and student." He grinned at her, enjoying the novelty of their reversed roles. "I expect nothing less than your best lessons, Mercutio."

"Given that I extracted you from an execution order, navigated the Bloodhounds, and had to deal with you for the past few weeks, I think teaching you about Thaumaturgy should be rather easy." Pandora sighed as the automobile accelerated smoothly on the road.

As The City of Windmills' buildings slipped past their windows, bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, Acacia found himself contemplating the strange turns his life had taken. From condemned prisoner to ward of a High Inquisitor, from hunted fugitive to potential key player in revolutionary change. None of it followed any path he could have anticipated.

And now, with the weight of Lorelei Bismarck's request settled firmly upon his shoulders, he faced yet another unexpected turn.

"The Dead Sea Scrolls are plural for a reason. The original book of Ein Sof Ohr is able to be partitioned into numerous parts called Tomes. I carry the original book in my office, but in case I somehow lose hold of it, there are five Tomes in different parts of my territory. They all cover 100 years of historical events, except the fifth one, which covers 400-420 E.V: the Modern Tome. It's missing."

A task that would require potentially crossing paths with enemies of the Viceroy... or the most unlikely of enemies possible.

After all... I'll need to recover the Modern Tomb of the Dead Sea Scrolls... as Bismarck requested.

The thought brought a small smile to his lips as the Spectre GT carried them homeward through the golden afternoon.

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