Chapter 10: ③ The Inner Palace Burns Quietly

The Ten Sages’ voice was calm.

Yet the moment those words were loosed, the air around the round table creaked again.

Lieselotte softly knit her brows.

There was neither blade nor fan in that tone.

And yet, it was so clear it turned fathomless.

“If we were to fold Hero-dono into the army—then the Holy Theocracy of the North might move.

They take the ‘Star Spirit’s guidance’ as literal ‘divine will.’”

A quiet ripple spread through the room.

(If we hand him to the army, he’s a ‘weapon of war.’ If we pen him in the Inner Palace harem, he’s a ‘token of dominion.’)

(But to these people, either way becomes ‘an affront to divine will’… that’s the logic.)

A righteousness called faith. At times, it’s sharper than steel.

(And yet—he’s a eunuch, and he speaks of ‘divine will.’)

(Where does faith end, and where does stratagem begin…?)

“Pardon me—but ‘intervention’ has a rather alarming ring to it.

We of the Star-Guiding Church merely convey doctrine and spread the divine will.

To use the Star Spirit’s Apostle-sama as a tool of politics—that would be an affront to God.”

There was no blade in those words.

And yet that mask-like smile was all the more uncanny for it.

(‘Do not use him,’ spoken gently, as if it were divine will itself.)

(And yet—they too have come, under the name of ‘watching over,’ to seize the reins.)

The Eldest of the Ten Sages lowered his gaze and let a faint smile touch his lips.

“That is heartening. That the sacred balance be kept, in the name of God… nothing could matter more.”

He feigned taking a step back, yet still refused to yield the floor.

—And then, another voice cut in.

“In that case—wouldn’t it be more fitting to place matters with Kokuyou-sama the Star Spirit, rather than Lord Karou?”

It was Celine.

Her voice was soft to the last, stabbing from behind the veil of her fan with a smile.

“Why, when Consort Clarisse, the Prayer Maiden, beheld Kokuyou-sama’s august presence, she wept and threw her arms around her.”

(What… A glib lie.)

(To swap in her own experience and make it ‘Clarisse-sama’s’?)

Everyone here should know that Clarisse and Kokuyou have not “met.”

But if the High Priest denies it—then he’ll be insulting “the daughter’s second sight.”

(…Mother, your hand is frighteningly deft.)

The High Priest’s gaze wavered for the briefest moment.

Even so, his smile did not break.

“…Then it must be that the Star Spirit’s blessing has reached deeply into the Inner Palace harem.”

Smiling still, the High Priest spun his words with quiet care.

His voice was limpid—neither refutation nor assent, but the language of faith.

“The miracle of Kokuyou-sama’s descent upon this land—

If Her Highness’s daughter has felt that presence more keenly than any, that too is a thing most worthy.

Between Star Spirit and Prayer Maiden, it is not words but souls that meet.”

(Wrap it in ambiguity, ‘deny nothing and take the lead’… this is the Church’s way.)

“…And precisely for that reason, this bond must be guarded with due care and solemnity.

For the shape of faith is, at times, more delicate than reason—”

(They say, ‘Treat it with care,’ and never say who will do the treating.)

When those words came to rest in the room, the Eldest of the Ten Sages gently lowered his eyes, that soft smile returning to his lips.

“Words most worthy indeed.

To be so keenly attuned to the Star Spirit’s presence… as expected of the Prayer Maiden’s bloodline.”

His tone was calm to the very end.

(‘Divine will, open to all,’ and yet the Church looks as if it’s fencing it in for themselves—)

(…There’s no way the Ten Sages will just let that pass, is there.)

Chapter 10: ④ The Inner Palace Burns Quietly

“Even so—if we speak of ‘manifestations of divine will’ too narrowly, confined to this house or that faction…
Might we not end up constricting the divine will itself?”
In the same gentle tone, the Eldest of the Ten Sages continued.
(The voice of God was never meant for someone to monopolize…)
(So why does it sound so ‘closed’ in their mouths?)
“Divine will guides only when it stands open to all.
Whoever claims to ‘hold it in trust’—sooner or later that guidance risks turning into ‘orders.’”
(But then, who is doing the fencing-in?)
(The Church. The Ten Sages—and the royal house as well.)
(All of them—saying the same kinds of things, all trying to stand at our backs.)
“Your concerns are most valid.”
From behind her fan, Celine’s cool voice answered.
“However, to ‘hold guidance in trust’ is never to force it upon others.
It is only that the Star Spirit’s blessing reached first—the Inner Palace harem. That is all.
We have merely fulfilled our duty in answer to that.”
(Not ‘hold in trust,’ but ‘answer.’)
(With a single word, she swaps out responsibility for leadership…)
“If that duty is ritual, then we shall set it in proper order, and in the form it demands.
…Divine will may be broad, but the door must be somewhere—and the key, too, must have its place.”
(As if to say: we hold the key.)
As the air tightened once more, the Grand Marshal spoke as if rapping his knuckles.
“—Hero-dono’s strength remains untested.
So long as that blade is bare, even the Star-Guiding Church cannot sleep easy—wondering when, and toward whom, its edge might turn.
Therefore, with Her Majesty the Queen’s wishes foremost, we of the military would see the Inner Palace harem’s security set in perfect order.
…Hero-dono is, after all, the linchpin of our defense. When it comes to ‘precautions,’ too much is just enough.”
(Under the name of ‘precaution,’ they mean to set the army’s eyes glittering in every corner of the Inner Palace.)
(Outwardly the Queen’s ally—but in truth… breath hot on the throat, with the fangs still sheathed.)
Yet cutting across that current, the Ten Sages spoke quietly, and with conviction.
“No matter how keen Hero-dono’s blade, it can be swung but once.
But the Star Spirit’s Apostle-sama will, by his blood, lay the foundation of a thousand years.
What we truly ought to seek is not ‘a hero,’ but ‘the prosperity of the line.’”
(With those stats, of course they see a fine ‘stud.’)
(And to the Ten Sages—no doubt the harem consorts look like excellent ‘broodmares.’)
“Then let me say it plain. If that ‘once’ is enough to save the nation, that blade is holier than any god.
Bloodlines? The future? …To hell with that! The dead leave no future. I take up the blade to live!”
(…That is ‘the Grand Marshal’s answer.’)
(Not the future, but victory. Not legacy, but lives.)
(—Through and through, a soldier’s logic.)
At that, the Chancellor smiled thinly.
“You say, ‘The dead leave no future,’ but isn’t flaunting Hero-dono’s power exactly what invites war?
What we need is not war, but national reconstruction.
From our foreign hero, we expect ‘wisdom’—governance, logistics, finance, education…
Is that not a force far longer-lasting than any blade?”
(Not the battlefield but the political arena—the Chancellor’s ‘sword’ is calculus and structure.)
(Behind the word ‘wisdom,’ he has no intention of giving up—he means to fold the Hero into the bureaucracy.)
“Neither blade, nor blood, nor wisdom alone. The Hero is a messenger sent by the Star Spirit.
If that power is to be wielded—it must be ‘for the people.’
Aid the weak, ease hunger, still conflict. That is what it means to be a ‘vessel of God.’”
With fingers laid before his breast, the High Priest spoke softly to still the room.
(A beautiful ideal to the last… and yet, where is the ‘human’ in it?)
(A blade that fights. Blood that binds. Wisdom that builds. And—an instrument of prayer.)
Lieselotte let out a small breath.
What she exhaled was a nameless sense of wrongness.
(Everyone is speaking of the Hero.)
(And yet—not one of them is actually ‘seeing’ him.)
(They’re only hurling their own ideal ‘hero’ at each other.)
(The real ‘him’—it’s as if he’s not even here at all—)