Claire Grace released a gentle hum through her nose. "I hadn't expected you to harbor such philosophical insights," she said, her lips forming a delicate smile. "Since you can articulate such thoughts, surely you must also recognize: if we choose to believe, if we commit to our aspirations, then justice and kindness manifest into existence. That is faith's true power."

  "I cannot concur with your perspective, Your Majesty—with all due respect. I've never considered existence contingent upon our thoughts. If I hope, believe, or desperately wish this war would vanish, would it truly disappear?" She leaned forward against the balustrade, observing the castle grounds below—bustling yet meticulously ordered. "War is a constant, whether we believe in it or not. It has always been here... We grieve, we weep, we lie awake in the dark. But when the sun rises on a new day, we forget. We take up our arms again, to start a war or to end one. I was like you, once. I had hope. I had faith. And I learned that none of it makes a difference. Kindness and justice are pretty dreams. The reality of what we are does not change."

  Claire Grace studied her profile intently, noting the crystalline blue of her eyes—so earnest, yet somehow ethereal. "You are far from an ordinary Monster Slayer," she observed.

  "Monster Slayers vary considerably from one another. I merely represent the most rigid and uninteresting among our ranks."

  The Queen of Cynthia laughed, and the sound was nothing like her speaking voice. It was not a regal, delicate thing; it was deep, earthy, and utterly without restraint. "You're remarkably difficult to decipher, my lady." She abandoned any pretense of covering her mouth and laughed freely. Neither woman noticed that Blancheless Liwendell had, in her slumber, migrated to the bed. "Let us set this matter aside for now. Should opportunity arise, I would gladly continue exploring these questions with you, my philosopher. For the present, however, I seek your assistance. From the beginning, I never intended to recruit you into this war, to fight under my banner. That would be unreasonable—you belong to another realm; you needn't risk your life in our conflict. What I request won't entangle you in combat. Regarding the specific details, I cannot yet disclose them, as I remain uncertain whether that most desperate hour will arrive..." Her speech slowed considerably; her breathing quickened noticeably. "I... must prepare for contingencies. I merely seek your commitment beforehand." She swiftly brushed away nascent tears from her lashes. Irene marveled at how rapidly her emotions shifted.

  "Does your request relate to the war?" Irene inquired. The queen affirmed with a nod. "What is the current military situation? I've been ignorant of all developments since losing consciousness. Most crucially—why are you personally here, Your Majesty? Have you brought reinforcements?"

  "Indeed I have. We've reclaimed most territories the Godmans had seized. They've been forced back to their initial point of entry."

  "What of Pafaheim and Phyal? The queen's absence must surely have significant consequences."

  "This was my only recourse. It represented the sole means of preserving Kadenford."

  "Did the Godmans launch a simultaneous assault on Pafaheim?" Upon receiving confirmation, Irene scoffed derisively. "Naturally. They consistently employ such dishonorable tactics."

  "I must acknowledge—they've utilized them with considerable effectiveness."

  "You cannot remain here much longer, Your Majesty. Pafaheim requires your presence. Phyal needs you equally."

  "I depart at first light for Phyal. Baron Penlico must maintain this position as best he can. Yet before my departure, I still lack your commitment."

  "Because you've revealed nothing substantive, Your Majesty." The evening breeze gently disturbed the Monster Slayer's brown hair, softening her countenance and diminishing her customary austerity. "You've yet to disclose what assistance you require."

  "I remain uncertain whether the worst scenario will materialize, so I prefer not to elaborate prematurely."

  "Then I must beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty—I cannot pledge myself to potentially impossible obligations." She observed the queen's expression attentively.

  "Is that so..." Claire Grace lowered her eyelids; concern and resignation colored her voice. "Then perhaps you might promise that, when I ultimately request your help, you will at minimum hear my entreaty."

  "That much I can certainly guarantee." Irene exhaled with relief. "You have my word, Your Majesty."

  "Thank you, my lady." The queen's smile created delicate lines at the corners of her eyes. "However, I still remain ignorant of your complete identity."

  "Irene."

  "Miss Irene," the queen noted, "you've skillfully omitted your family name."

  Observing the young woman's renewed silence, Claire demonstrated her magnanimity. "No matter, Irene. I won't investigate your history. If you prefer discretion, I shall address you simply as 'Irene.' That will suffice."

  "Croft," she declared abruptly. "My surname is Croft."

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  This revelation visibly surprised the queen. "Croft..." She examined the Monster Slayer's features while simultaneously searching her memories. "House Croft—nobility of Duviliel."

  "More precisely, former nobility."

  "That house was expunged from the registry," Claire Grace remarked deliberately. "I was quite young then, and my father shared minimal details. I recall the name House Croft, but the specifics—the cause for their banishment, the revocation of titles and subsequent exile—have faded from my recollection."

  "Yes. Nor do I retain clear memories. I was even younger then."

  "I offer my sincere apologies, Irene."

  "Why would you apologize to me, Your Majesty? I understand my father committed an unpardonable transgression. That precipitated our downfall. I fail to comprehend why you would express regret."

  "My father was a cold-hearted man with a volatile temperament. Were it the current monarch, King Richard Grace, perhaps he might have afforded your father—and your family—greater clemency..." She raised her hand and placed it gently against Irene's left cheek; the Monster Slayer made no attempt to withdraw. "For that, I am truly sorry, Irene."

  "You owe me nothing." She intended to remove the queen's hand, but at the moment of contact, emotion surged within her—volcanic and utterly beyond her control. "It is I who owe the debt. A debt to you, a debt to Duviliel... a debt to the whole world..." Her voice broke, thick with an emotion she could no longer name. Irene Croft could not identify the source of her tears—whether they flowed from the queen's forgiveness, her apology, or the tender touch against her skin—it remained beyond her comprehension. Irene clasped Claire's hand firmly, unwilling to relinquish it; this represented an unusual display of willfulness. Claire Grace, Queen of Cynthia—Princess of Duviliel—drew her into a compassionate embrace.

  "Release your tears, Irene." She stroked her hair with maternal gentleness. Though slightly taller than the queen, Irene buried her tear-streaked face against Claire's shoulder. "Your Majesty... I'll ruin your garment..." Her voice emerged fragile and broken.

  "It matters not. I'm unconcerned." The queen gazed toward the setting sun while continuing her soothing caresses. Blancheless Liwendell rubbed her sleep-clouded eyes. The unexpected vision of queen and Monster Slayer in intimate embrace momentarily startled her; she quickly composed herself, suppressing a fleeting pang of jealousy and allowing her expression to reflect only appreciation for the poignant scene bathed in the day's fading radiance.

  After a long moment, Claire's voice, laced with a gentle teasing, broke the silence. "Well. My gown is officially soaked, Irene. You have a remarkable talent for weeping." Irene's anguished sobbing had gradually subsided to subdued whimpers. "Your manner of crying bears striking resemblance to Blancheless."

  Finally, Irene lifted her face from the queen's shoulder, her expression naked with emotion. She hastily wiped away remaining tears and arranged her hair—with swift, almost brusque movements. "I beg forgiveness for my unseemly display." Her customary detachment immediately reasserted itself.

  "You change your climate as quickly as the winds over the Terras Ice Wastes, Irene," Claire teased. The Monster Slayer, still mortified, offered no response. "Have you encountered this particular adage? Three categories of women should never weep in this world."

  "Queens, widows, and sorceresses. I presume I fall outside these classifications."

  "And it is for that very reason that I envy you." The queen's smile was faint, but it held no trace of artifice.

  "Your Majesty, the hour for evening meal approaches." Blancheless had restored order to the bed and now stood attentively beside it. "Was your rest satisfactory?"

  "Exceptionally so, Your Majesty."

  "Excellent. Then let us proceed." She turned toward Irene. "I extend my personal invitation to dine with me this evening, Miss Monster Slayer."

  "I would be profoundly honored."

  "How shall I present you to the assembly?" Without awaiting permission, she linked her arm through Irene's. "Would you consent to be introduced as my knight?"

  "I have already expressed my position—I cannot involve myself in political conflicts."

  "Knighthood need not signify fighting for Cynthia's cause. You might regard it merely as... an honorific title."

  "I possess no weapons," Irene pointed out. "The confrontation with the Friez at the tavern destroyed all my equipment—and a knight can scarcely appear unarmed, can she?"

  "I can provide any weapon you desire." Claire's tone acquired a subtle insistence. "You need only specify, and I shall have it furnished immediately."

  "I require a silver sword—an essential implement for monster hunting. I doubt your armory maintains such specialized weapons."

  This observation temporarily halted the queen's persistence. "A silver sword... no, we possess none," she conceded. "However, I can certainly commission a smith to craft one specifically for you."

  "Your generosity is remarkable, Your Majesty—and deeply appreciated. I harbor no doubt that Cynthia's craftsmen could forge an exceptional silver blade. However, at my core, I am a Monster Slayer. From the moment I chose this life and survived its trials, my path was set in stone, each piece cemented in place. A path like that cannot be unmade. We do not embody a knight's lofty virtues; our social standing falls beneath even common mercenaries. We place our faith in gold and steel—and in the modest trophies harvested from monsters. I lack the qualifications to serve as a sovereign's knight; such an appointment would inevitably provoke criticism and burden you with unnecessary controversies. This presents far greater challenges than elevating a cultured, accomplished lady of your court to knighthood."

  "I care nothing for such gossip. The opinions of courtiers are gnats in the air. As queen, I have earned the right to my own will—and my own whims. Still," Claire's brow furrowed in thought, "you are a difficult woman to win over, aren't you?"

  "I sincerely apologize, Your Majesty. Nevertheless, should you issue a direct command, I would comply without hesitation. For I remain indebted to you for my very life."

  "Very well." Claire's lips curved upward in satisfaction. "Then I shall introduce you as my personal friend—as a Monster Slayer of extraordinary capability."

  "I am grateful."

  "Regarding your weaponry, I shall ensure it is forged to your specifications—you need not concern yourself further. Blancheless, please change into appropriate evening attire." The lady-in-waiting executed a brief curtsy before departing swiftly.

  "Perhaps we might enjoy a brief promenade—during these moments before supper commences. Would that be agreeable?"

  "I see no reason to decline," Irene Croft responded with genuine warmth.