SN Chapter 22

"You... can reclaim... in this darkness..."

Rikardis didn't properly catch her last words. Itserion clamped both hands over his ears and urgently pressed him to leave, so he departed from the solitary cell as well.

Rikardis skillfully reconstructed her final words in his mind. Her lip movements had formed each character, one by one. A curse? Or perhaps the hint of something? He couldn't know yet. He walked away without looking back even once at the cell where she remained.

Whether you can reclaim the White Night by Idelabheim's existence alone, I'll be watching from this darkness, Rikardis.

Itserion poured out chattering reproaches until his ears felt completely stuffed. The reason being: how could he have such a friendly conversation with the witch Ketrin, who had been an executive of Onyx Moon, the fanatic cult worshipping Kreyan Tithanion? He was flabbergasted that such venom had appeared affectionate.

That poison meant to assassinate him contained magic mixed within it—this had been confirmed by her words. First Prince Elpydion and the Emperor's people who had heard her words together in the underground prison. They would testify. That Onyx Moon, and also the Kingdom of Balta, had created a new poison that rendered even divine power meaningless. This was a major threat not only to Rikardis but to the Imperial House of Illavénia itself. The more enemies of one's enemy, the better. The problem was that there were allies who had joined hands with the enemy.

Rikardis tossed and turned in bed for quite some time, tracing the patterns on the ceiling with his eyes. Though he always had difficulty falling asleep easily, tonight was exceptionally harder. Unlike his fatigued body, his mind remained vivid. A type of sleep disorder he'd developed from frequent assassination attempts since childhood. Rikardis closed his eyes and tried counting a few sheep against a black background, even recalled lullabies one might tell young children. Despite all efforts, his mind only grew sharper.

Rikardis exhaled deeply and sat up. Tonight too, sleep seemed entirely out of reach. There was always plenty of work to handle that would keep the long night from being tedious. On sleepless nights until now, he'd mostly taken up his quill pen, but...

Tonight, his eyes kept drifting to the cabinet where wine bottles lay neatly stored. Rikardis knew that sitting at his desk would not be a good choice on nights like this. Rikardis picked up a bottle of wine and leaned his body loosely against the long sofa.

With only a few candles present, the room wasn't bright. Which made it stand out more—the white, faint light illuminating the wine glass and table. Moonlight that had squeezed through the gap between slightly parted curtains. Rikardis moved his gaze to follow that light.

He could see part of the roundly floating moon. Like the eyes of a woman bleached pure white. His mood soured instantly, and he gulped down the wine in his glass.

Black moon. White night. These were not simply the name of a fanatic cult serving Kreyan Tithanion, nor merely the name of the Holy Empire's Second Prince's knight order. The brilliant past of a continent now aged and dying. A legend passed down from ancient times.

'The God of Light, Idelabheim, on the day his divine power reached its peak, drove out the God of Darkness, Kreyan Tithanion, from the night.

Blessed white light brighter than day illuminated the entire world. All things were revived. The black curtain covering earth and sky slowly withdrew to one corner of the heavens. Even shadows, symbols of darkness, vanished, leaving not a trace of darkness upon the land. White night covered the world. Kreyan Tithanion, driven from night, hid himself in the moon and remained in the moon turned black until Idelabheim's night that had whitened the world disappeared.'

...was the legend spread throughout Illavénia—no, the entire continent. Legend? Rikardis tilted his head. He briefly deliberated whether that word fit, but realized it couldn't simply be called a 'legend' after all. Yet he also knew it sounded endlessly fantastical to call it truth.

Until about three hundred years ago, there had reportedly been a Day of Revival when the white night and black moon rose—the 'Night of Blessing.' But several hundred years was sufficient time to turn truth into merely one among countless legends.

Many people thought the story of the 'Night of Blessing' was, like the founding myths all nations tell, merely words attached to grant legitimacy to royal authority. Though it was an age when even the power held by legend had greatly faded, Rikardis knew. That unrealistic divine world where even shadows disappeared, that brief time—the 'Night of Blessing' existed.

The Imperial House of Illavénia. The temple. An old library hidden in depths no one could casually enter. In volumes written by many people, records of the white night and black moon that had repeated since Illavénia's founding hundreds of years ago remained vividly.

One year... 47 years...

236 years... 243 years, 263 years

297 years... 345 years... 3...4...

[The Emperor of Illavénia invoked Idelabheim's blessing, drove Kreyan Tithanion to the moon, and summoned the white night. The earth where shadows vanished was dyed with blessing. Life circulated, sprouts budded, flowers bloomed, and fruit was borne.]

Summoning the 'Night of Blessing' required much divine power. That one possessing vast divine power became emperor was natural succession. However, as time passed, the Night of Blessing gradually disappeared, and opinions began to be heard questioning whether the emperors' capabilities were insufficient. They pointed out that the divine power of emperors two or three generations before the current Illavénian emperor wasn't strong. But because the Night of Blessing hadn't appeared from much earlier than that, those opinions gained no strength yet weren't eliminated either, remaining quietly buried until now.

Several hundred years had passed since the last recorded appearance of the Night of Blessing. The continent was slowly dying. Though land blessed with divine power and holy water revived, the decreasing crop yields and number of fruit-bearing trees couldn't be stopped.

Because land touched by divine power didn't recover perfectly from its dying state. Without periodic blessing, it immediately returned to barren land. Through various experiments at the temple, reviving land with divine power was proven possible. However, it was confirmed that this was merely a primary effect, like boiling herbs for a critically wounded person.

Though visible effects existed, fundamental problems remained unchanged. The result awaiting land where life force couldn't circulate was obvious. The situation was urgent.

Rikardis investigated the 'Night of Blessing' while evading the Emperor's eyes. If materials in the Imperial House wouldn't work, he had to find oral traditions passed mouth-to-mouth in each region, or scriptures in old libraries. However, as time passed, materials were lost, and old stories had been altered and forgotten.

The detailed truth about the process and conditions was known only to the emperor. Because summoning the Night of Blessing was both the greatest duty and unique authority possessed only by Illavénia's emperor. In other words, another person raising the 'Night of Blessing' constituted an act of rebellion against the emperor. Even if Rikardis could summon the 'Night of Blessing,' he must never attempt it. Not until he inherited the throne.

It was truly absurd and frustrating. The current emperor himself lacked sufficient divine power, so even if other conditions were sufficiently met, he couldn't summon the 'Night of Blessing.' Yet he clung desperately to power.

If the fact that he was digging into information about the 'Night of Blessing' were discovered, he wouldn't die peacefully. It was an act of defiance against the sole being standing above all humans, who could kill dozens, hundreds, tens of thousands with a single word. Rikardis recognized he was in a somewhat dangerous situation, but thought the risk worth taking.

On a day when all conditions were met, it would become a great threat to the emperor. This was insurance of a sort. Not a sword to strike down someone, but a sword to protect himself. Therefore, even while rolling on battlefields, even when seriously wounded, even as precious ones died, he'd searched for clues about the 'Night of Blessing.'

What had been formless and blurry finally revealed its shape somewhat today.

'Whether you can reclaim the White Night by Idelabheim's existence alone, I'll be watching from this darkness, Rikardis.'

Rikardis drank wine like water. Indeed, he admitted it. That he'd been searching for one thing only. From witch Ketrin's last words, he'd obtained an important clue. On days when the white night appeared, the black moon had always been there too. If he couldn't find the white night, only the black moon remained.

Rikardis took his wine glass and headed toward the balcony. With his face flushed reddish, he opened the window. Before stepping toward the balcony, he froze solid. Because he'd locked eyes with someone on a tree branch growing high directly in front. Rikardis screwed up his face terribly.

"What... exactly... wh-what are you doing, Dame Rosaline?"

Most unlike him, he stammered in bewilderment and his voice rose a tone. He was genuinely startled enough that not screaming was impressive. Rosaline of Redvielle, sitting like a cat on a tree branch faintly illuminated by moonlight. She answered nonchalantly.

"On guard duty."

"...Wasn't your guard duty from morning until evening?"

"Assassins don't come considering my guard duty hours."

And Rosaline immediately confirmed her words. She grabbed something from inside the tree thick with lush leaves and slammed it to the ground. A human wearing black clothes. The person was already unconscious, apparently dealt with by Rosaline. Rikardis looked once at his unspeakably capable guard knight, once at the assassin collapsed bleeding beneath the tree, then rang the bell to summon people. Before long, knights came swarming.