Two days had passed since the occupation of the Temple of the Sun. Using the capital of Helio as its base, the Parsha–Ravista coalition was rapidly bringing the entire land of lakes under its control.

Naturally, Solif was the busiest of them all. As Baraha's newly enthroned ruler, he not only had to bring its old vassals to heel, but also carve off portions of the house's vast wealth to hand over to the coalition.

"They're not listening to you?"

"They're talking about driving a wedge between our two houses so Baraha can rise again. Saying great Baraha can't be allowed to become another house's dependency."

"Who's saying that? Want me to kill them?"

"Don't say that. Coming from you, it doesn't sound like a joke."

Looking thoroughly appalled, Solif shook his head and set down the documents he was holding. Ordinary nobles would leave this sort of work to their subordinates, of course, but until he could trust those subordinates, he had no choice but to oversee everything himself.

"Where's Maysa, anyway?"

"She went back to Kalamap with Armani for now. One of us needs to be there in case someone attacks."

"Oh, right. You told me before. I've been so distracted I forgot for a moment. So, how's your work coming along?"

"Well, I've more or less wrapped things up on my end too."

For the past two days, while Solif consolidated his power as Baraha's new House Head and Maysa put matters in order back at the main house, Turan had remained shut away deep inside the Temple of the Sun. Some dismissed it as the typical indolence of a great noble, but he too had been busy with important work: pulling every one of Baraha's half-human, half-elf beings out of the stone slab, imprisoning them separately in the jewelry box, and interrogating them.

"There were six in all... No, five now. One of them was far too stubborn. I made an example of him by tearing him apart in front of the others."

"Ugh."

"Still, that scared them into giving me better information. Having several of them makes it easier to cross-check things too."

When Resion had been his sole source, it had been difficult to verify anything without putting it to the test himself. Adding Baraha's other half-elves had solved that problem. After asking one for information, he could casually rephrase the question for several others and easily expose any lies.

In truth, Resion had been so consistently cooperative since changing sides that such precautions had proved unnecessary with him. Perhaps he had half given up, reasoning that there was no turning back now that he had already betrayed the others.

As the leader of the group and Baraha's House Head, Resion knew the most anyway. In the end, Turan mainly dealt with him and used the other half-elves to verify his answers. As a result, he had learned a truly staggering amount.

"First, I found out what those needles in your and Maysa's heads are."

"What are they?"

"A leash."

"A leash..."

"Apparently, long ago, the first generation of wizards born from unions between Freyans and humans were difficult to control. They obeyed the gods who were their parents, at least, but they thought so little of ordinary people that they often slaughtered them as readily as breathing. So the gods implanted a device to curb that aggression, and made it hereditary along with their bloodlines."

Hearing that story had reminded Turan of Onil of House Karmine—a vicious lout everyone feared because he thought nothing of hurting those weaker than himself. Perhaps the occasional person like him born into every house was the result of something going wrong with this 'leash.'

If that was what the average first-generation wizard had been like, such measures were understandable. Though who knew what those subjected to them had thought.

"According to Resion, the whole social structure of the world today is held together by that measure. Left to human nature, powerful wizards would abuse and dominate ordinary people they saw as little better than insects, not take such care to protect them and help them prosper as they do now."

"Huh."

Humans shall worship wizards, and wizards shall protect humans. To think that the most fundamental teaching in the opening chapter of the Freyan faith had not been passed down naturally, but had been instilled in the gods' wizard descendants through something akin to brainwashing.

Solif clicked his tongue at the unexpected revelation, then asked a question that had just occurred to him.

"Then why did our heads hurt back then?"

"Well, that was only the original purpose. Later, they added a few other things while they were at it. Obedience to the gods, safeguards against anyone trying to attack them... Since the gods aren't in their own bodies now, it doesn't normally react, but it seems to work when they're in spirit form."

And, astonishingly and horribly, he had been told that the pain Solif and Maysa had suffered last time was probably a weakened version, because Baraha's gods had become half-elven. Had they retained fully divine spirit forms, the heads of Solif's and Maysa's spirit forms would have burst the moment they faced them.

"That's why we need to get them out as quickly as possible. Don't worry. I learned a few tricks for removing the needles, so we should be able to finish soon."

"Wait, I'm not sure we should just pull them out. From what you're saying, aren't those needles what's keeping me from becoming a crazed murderer?"

If removing every needle turned him into a monster who feasted while slaughtering ordinary people for amusement, like the first generation of wizards, how would that be any different from dying? At Solif's anxiety, Turan gave a small laugh and pointed to himself.

"Look at me. Do I look like that sort of monster?"

"Well, honestly, a little..."

Faced with Turan's expressionless stare, Solif muttered, "I'm joking, man."

"Anyway, the problem is having far too much power from childhood, before your personality has matured. Once you're an adult, removing them probably won't affect your self-control."

"That reminds me of something else. Why don't you have needles in your head? You didn't pull them out yourself, did you?"

"I don't know either. I questioned them pretty hard about that... but they really don't seem to know."

The one who had designed and implanted these 'leashes' was the Biologist, an expert at manipulating living things and souls. Otas, the Night Hunter who had founded Zahar and ruled the Enril Desert, had been on poor terms with him. Even he, however, had considered such measures necessary and entrusted his descendants to the Biologist.

At Otas's request, their leash had been designed with somewhat more slack than those of other bloodlines. That was likely the source of the Zahar bloodline's characteristic cruelty.

"Hmm. So in the end, our bloodlines govern not just our power, but even our thoughts..."

"Not completely, though."

Turan recalled his recent conversation with his grandfather, Talis. Judging by what he had hinted at then, Talis clearly knew all about this as well.

There was plenty more to discuss after that: why Resion had taken the considerable risk of ambushing Osel, Ravista's House Head, and what he had paid to draw the great house of Ruban into the conflict.

Sensing the mood grow somber under the succession of depressing revelations, Turan deliberately brightened his voice.

"I learned something good this time too, as a bonus."

"Don't tell me..."

"That's right. The Silver Sun's skills."

"Yes!"

Solif looked as though he had just received a present as Turan handed him the technique chart he had prepared. It contained detailed instructions for combining symbols, illustrated by Turan himself through the thought-imprinting technique, along with the names, effects, and methods of using various techniques.

"Before long, you'll probably be the best of the three of us at using skills. Maysa and I are making things up as we go."

"Heh. I can't grow any stronger now anyway, so I'll have to manage this much. Don't worry. I'll make sure I master them."

Clearly delighted by Turan's gift, Solif read the chart over and over, his face flushed with excitement. Turan watched him with a smile for a moment, but then a shadow crossed his face.

'Skills...'

There was one important piece of information from his dealings with the half-elves that Turan had deliberately withheld from Solif. More precisely, he intended to keep it from everyone else as well. He simply could not predict how people would react if they learned the truth.

Compared with the secret he had just learned, even the fact that the Freyans had been ruling the world from the shadows amounted to nothing. Turan turned to gaze at the moon shining clear in an unusually cloudless sky.

'This world was created as fiction, and the real world exists somewhere else...'

* * *

["This world is fake?"]

["Yes. Well, strictly speaking, fake isn't quite the word... An artificial world? An overlaid world? Perhaps that would be more accurate."]

Turan frowned at Resion's words. The world was fake? What sort of incomprehensible nonsense was that?

["House Head of Parsha, have you ever wondered about it? Doesn't it seem strange that grasslands, wastelands, deserts, and marshes exist side by side, separated by boundaries less than ten meters wide? Or that one place can be fertile plains and another a frozen snowfield, despite being at the same latitude?"]

["Not at all."]

A desert suddenly becoming a marsh as you walked along was simply how the world worked, wasn't it? And what did a region's latitude have to do with its climate? When Turan said as much, Resion replied in a tone that suggested a wry smile, though his expression was unreadable.

["Of course you would think so. You were born and raised in this world, so you've never seen a normal one. It's difficult to explain, but a normal world isn't like this. Perhaps the reason your people struggle to make scientific advances is that this world doesn't operate on scientific principles in the first place."]

After a succession of such baffling remarks, Resion explained several things to Turan: a world built upon scientific civilization, a special form of entertainment called a 'game,' and the fictional setting within it.

["Incidentally, this world isn't exactly the setting of the game we played. The terrain seems to have been transplanted as it was, but there were no other races, monsters, or beings like you wizards."]

By the time they reached the argument that, strictly speaking, the world might have been overlaid while its living creatures were real, the discussion had strayed into excessively abstract territory. Whether what one saw was real, what standard could distinguish true reality, and so on.

Turan did not particularly enjoy pondering such philosophical questions. To him, if he could perceive something with his five senses—or six, including his spiritual sense—then it was real.

["In truth, what intrigues me most at present is you, House Head of Parsha. The natives of this world have risen in rebellion against us several times before, but none possessed power as solid and formidable as yours. And to have been born without a 'leash,' at that."]

["Do you think I'm not human?"]

At Turan's question, Resion's jewel-like eyes curved. Turan could not be certain, but he seemed to be grinning.

["That is for you to decide, not us. In any case, it wouldn't hurt to begin by finding that out. In our world, we have sayings such as 'Know thyself,' and 'Know yourself and know your enemy, and you need not fear a hundred battles'..."]

"My lord, are you asleep?"

A woman's voice roused him from his long reverie. Only then did Turan realize he was in the middle of a meal, and he blinked several times.

As his drifting awareness resurfaced, he remembered that he had returned to Kalamap the previous night and gathered everyone in the mansion for a banquet to show them he was safe and well. The people who had been watching him, presumably because he had been staring into space, soon resumed eating and chatting merrily.

"I was just thinking."

"I see. About what I asked a moment ago, then—could you tell me where Lord Solif has gone? We had a puzzle we were going to work on together..."

Turan frowned slightly at the chatter of Berit Zahar, his second cousin and Zahar's hostage and spy. Her chattering mouth promptly snapped shut.

"He's been sent away on business for a while. His destination is a house secret. I can't tell you."

"Oh, I see..."

An ordinary person might have felt a trace of sympathy at her almost servile pleading, but Turan felt none for her crestfallen expression. Behind that tearful face, she was brimming with resentment at his refusal to yield and determination to uncover his secrets one way or another.

Before long, Berit switched her attentions to Maysa and began wheedling again.

"Big sister, won't you tell me? Please!"

"No. And since when am I your big sister?"

"Whoever's stronger is the big sister, of course. Does age really matter?"

Several people clicked their tongues at the extraordinary sight of Berit, now over thirty, coyly calling the younger Maysa her big sister. Did she have no pride at all? Of course, as both were high-ranking nobles, there was little difference in their apparent ages.

Maysa was looking rather at a loss over Berit's clinging behavior when Vije, who had been eating beside Turan, suddenly flew over and threatened Berit with a snap of her beak.

-Stop bothering Maysa!

Only Turan could hear her voice, of course, but her manner made her meaning clear enough. Berit squealed and backed away, prompting laughter from those around them.

After the banquet, Turan and Maysa strolled through the gardens around the mansion, talking.

"How's your head? Has it hurt at all since that day?"

"It's fine. I didn't expect you to ask about that first."

"What did you expect?"

"I thought you'd ask how the house was doing, or what was happening around us."

"I asked Asiz about that yesterday. More importantly, your well-being matters more."

Caught off guard by his words, Maysa's eyes widened for a moment. Then she shook her head with a gentle smile.

"How's Solif doing?"

"I think he'll manage well enough. He was the heir originally, so he's already learned something about governing. And with two great houses supporting him, he has enough authority to keep his vassals in line."

Most importantly, a large number of the previous House Head's ardent loyalists had been wiped out in the recent battle.

Going a step further, Turan had brought up how Resion had once forcibly imprisoned Solif after he ran away and tried to execute him. However absolute a House Head's authority, and however much obedience was owed by the heir, executing him merely for running away was excessive.

Naturally, Baraha's remaining forces had flown into a rage and denounced it as slander. But word spread that several high-ranking nobles mobilized for the old pursuit party had quietly let slip similar accounts. Being human, they evidently had not managed to keep their mouths entirely shut about the shocking order to strip Solif of all his rights and bring him back as a prisoner.

Thanks to that, an undercurrent of opinion had begun to view Solif's accession not as a 'horrific betrayal of his father,' but as 'unavoidable self-defense.' With no clear evidence, it was admittedly a somewhat tenuous justification, but even small advantages like these were needed to legitimize a reign.

"I hope things settle down over there soon. Then the troops we've sent can come home."

"It'll probably take about half a year."

After circling the gardens and chatting, the two entered a bedchamber deep inside the main house. They had a private matter to attend to, one no one else could be allowed to see.

"Ah, I really hate this..."

"We still have to do it. Unless you want to go through that again. Or possibly something even worse."

Resion alone had shown that a handful of the powerful ancient Freyan gods possessed spirit forms stronger than Turan's current one. Maysa's and Solif's help would be indispensable if he was to capture and handle such beings.

"I know. I was just saying."

With a deep sigh, Maysa lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. Before long, her spirit form emerged, displaying the symbols of her three bloodlines.

["If it's any comfort, the method I just learned should let me pull them out faster. If we do it every day, it probably won't even take three days."]

["Does that hurt less?"]

At Maysa's rather frightened question, Turan shook his head with a look of pity.

["Solif asked if I could use the old method, even if it took a little longer."]

A moment later, a spiritual scream, inaudible to human ears, spread beyond the bedchamber.