Ch 40
Since Mia and Étienne had agreed to playact as lovers—like children in a game—she never addressed him formally. Thus, this exchange was less a display of distance than a scolding: "How could a member of the Rochefort family lack such basic political foresight?"
"Oh dear, was that too irreverent? Lighten up. I don’t believe His Majesty the Emperor is so simplistic either. If rumors spread of the Goddess’s hero dying in battle while imperial morale is high, it would be the worst possible scandal for him."
Even a man who frequently acted against his people’s interests and his own political gain—a greedy, faithless fool—could remain decades on the throne. There had to be a reason.
Underestimating those who seemed incompetent was the gravest error a green politician could make.
For the current Emperor of Etallon, the irony lay in his power deriving from the temples dominating the realm. Though woefully impious, he won public favor through prayers and and rituals. His reign saw frequent "miracles" of the Goddess—several clumsy ones, Mia suspected, engineered by the Emperor himself.
Thus, calling his regime faith-based wasn’t hyperbolic. In such a climate, eliminating the proclaimed Goddess’s hero—a figure bolstering his support—was unthinkable.
Careless harm to her envoy could incite rebellion.
"Let’s cease slandering our liege here. Didn’t you suggest buying provisions?"
Mia concluded her thoughts and changed the subject. Unless the war turned dire, the Emperor lacked motive to remove her. Further sparring with Étienne would only weary them.
Perhaps sharing her view, Étienne surprisingly indulged the shift.
"I heard a tavern favored by commoners lies nearby. We might find something to sate our hunger."
They’d barely walked toward it when a ragged child accosted them. Clutching Étienne’s coattail, the boy pleaded as Étienne glanced awkwardly at Mia.
"Milords, save me!"
"I see no pursuers. Without that, how can we aid you? Why block our path?"
"True—we aren’t chased. But... sigh... I wish we were! At least then we could flee or die if caught. Goddess! How can such cruelty—"
"Too verbose. State your purpose."
"My family’s starved for weeks. We’re powerless. Food prices—wheat especially—soar beyond reach. Taverns serving proper meals keep closing."
"Hmm."
Though anticipated, such swift destitution surprised Mia.
After dismissing the child, Étienne grew visibly uneasy.
"You’ll pay this from personal funds, I presume."
"Not a penny from military coffers. Rest easy."
"Then why help at all?"
"I have my reasons. Don’t pry."
"Your Raven scheme aimed to multiply those starving and desperate."
"Étienne."
"Beyond that—to topple the system sustaining them."
Mia stopped interrupting, silently observing how far he’d go.
"Wouldn’t neglecting them profit you more?"
"..."
"Or do court whispers hold truth—that you meticulously care for commoners’ lives?"
"If so, why choose strategies that ruined them? I can’t reconcile this."
Mia finally spoke at his jab.
"I hadn’t realized enemy nations rewarded mercy with generalships, Étienne."
She fired this before he could retort.
"From Etallon’s view," he shot back, "my actions were optimal! They had a month to act—if citizens starve now, blame lies with the Emperor who ignored rising prices. And..."
And. Mia couldn’t continue. Étienne—who’d moments ago needled her with infuriating nonchalance—suddenly staggered.
"Étienne!"
Mia rushed to grab him, but his body, already beginning to collapse, couldn't regain its balance despite her efforts.
“Damn it. Why is this happening? He was fine just a moment ago!”
“Mia, I really...”
What "really"? Even those few words seemed too much for Etienne, who couldn't bring himself to finish. Unable to press him further as he teetered on the edge of consciousness, Mia took his hand and pulled him into the hotel.
“We’ll talk inside. Let’s go in.”
The Legion Commander couldn’t be seen in such a debilitated state by anyone on this street. This single thought consumed Mia’s mind entirely.
“Why is Etienne like this?”
“How should I know, Your Excellency...”
Bertrand answered while drenched in cold sweat. He’d already witnessed Mia attempting to heal Etienne with her divine power and knew the effort had failed.
If even Mia’s divine power—rumored to be unrivaled in strength—showed no effect, perhaps this wasn’t an ailment divine power could cure. Yet without a clear alternative, how could he offer assurances? The physician hesitated before asking:
“Could the Legion Commander have encountered something grave outside? Like the ambush this afternoon...”
“Do you think Etienne would collapse from some pathetic ambush?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then don’t speak at all unless you have a treatment.”
“...I’ll return if anything comes to mind.”
Taking Mia’s sharp tone as a dismissal, Bertrand hurried out. Mia stared at Etienne’s lifeless form. His rigid body and angelic face on the bed felt both intimately familiar and unsettlingly alien.
He looked devoid of all vitality, exactly as he had in his past life...
For an instant, the image of the dead Legion Commander flashed through Mia’s mind. She remembered every detail from that day with visceral clarity—the ghost of breath against her fingertips, the sweat trailing down his cheek.
Mia pressed trembling fingers beneath Etienne’s nose. Though his breathing remained steady, she kept superimposing his final moments—the fading hue of his closed eyes—over the present.
In his previous life too, the Legion Commander had collapsed without warning. Ever since being poisoned in Glen, any excessive use of his abilities would leave him bedridden.
For years, until the link between divine power and his condition was discovered, he’d been viewed as a paradox: a brilliant commander too indispensable to replace, yet too frail to rely upon.
Given the absence of clear precursors, this incident isn’t so different from back then.
