"Yes, breathe in and out just like that..."

In a room with curtains drawn thick enough to shut out even the sunlight, a midwife carefully gave instructions with her ear pressed to the belly of a lady whose face was hidden behind a veil.

Just behind them, a man of about thirty, presumably her husband, watched with his arms crossed.

"Whew..."

"Breathe in, and out—yes, that's all."

People who worked as midwives on the side were a dime a dozen in Kalamap, but she was renowned among them for knowing several secret methods of determining whether a woman was pregnant.

She might listen with an ear pressed against the belly, as she was doing now, feel the pulse at the wrist, or have the woman urinate on barley to see whether it sprouted.

Some of these methods were less reliable than others, of course, but when she tried them all, as she had this time, the result was almost never wrong. More than forty years of experience told her that the woman before her was certainly pregnant.

"I would say you're about a month and a half to two months along."

"I see."

At the midwife's words, complicated emotions crossed both their faces.

Their inability to simply rejoice, the hidden face, the way they had summoned a midwife to this small, secluded house—it clearly did not seem to be an ordinary marriage. What could their relationship be? A servant having an affair with some exalted person's concubine?

Her curiosity lasted only a moment before she dismissed the thoughts and lowered her head. Whatever the truth, she had no desire to throw away the quiet, unassuming life she had preserved for so long by taking an interest in the wrong things.

"Then, about my fee...?"

"Here."

After accepting her payment, the midwife looked back as she left the residence and bowed her head slightly in prayer. Whatever the relationship between those two, she hoped that at least their child would grow up blessed.

* * *

At House Parsha's headquarters in central Kalamap, Maysa and Turan returned from having the midwife confirm her pregnancy. Neither spoke a word until they sat on a sofa in the lounge and embraced.

It was not that either was upset with the other. Both simply had too many thoughts crowding their heads. Their present circumstances were far too complicated for them merely to celebrate a new life.

Turan stared blankly at Maysa's still-slender belly. Even the Holy Relic's senses had difficulty detecting the little life sleeping within. Her entire body appeared as a mass of light overflowing with tremendous mana.

'I was the one who suggested getting her examined, but it still doesn't feel real...'

He was already twenty-one. Had he been an ordinary man, he would have been more than old enough to marry and have a child or two.

Of course, as Asiz and Solif's unmarried status demonstrated, long-lived nobles often remained unwed and childless into their forties or even past sixty. Even at that age, their bodies were no older than an ordinary person's mid-to-late twenties.

'I never imagined she'd get pregnant so soon.'

Since sharing their bodies and hearts after that bout of punching in the rocky mountains a few months earlier, Turan and Maysa had used several widely known methods of contraception each time they slept together: avoiding her fertile days, using protective aids, and so on.

They had done so to prevent her pregnancy from weakening the house's fighting strength. Even the few weeks she needed to recover after creating a powerful magic tool as an Enchanter were a dangerous gap. Pregnancy would make it difficult for her to serve as a combatant for nearly a year.

Of course, the best solution would have been to maintain a degree of distance, as they had while traveling together in the past... But how easy was it for an attractive young couple in their prime, knowing how they felt about each other, to exercise such restraint? Especially under the extreme stress of constant battles against powerful enemies and managing a vast organization.

In any case, neither had expected a child so soon despite their precautions. Perhaps it was because they had lost their parents in childhood, or been left in much the same position, and never received a proper education on the subject.

Holding Maysa, Turan drew a soft breath. She avoided strongly scented cosmetics out of consideration for his sensitive nose, allowing him to perceive her emotions clearly.

Anxiety, and apprehension... He opened his mouth to comfort her.

"Maysa."

"... What?"

"Thank you."

Instead of asking what he was thanking her for, she simply squeezed the hand wrapped around her. Then she murmured in a trembling voice.

"Why did this have to happen now, when things are so dangerous?"

"Don't speak of it as something that happened to us. It's our child. We should be grateful they've come to us."

Our child. Saying it aloud suddenly made it feel real. A life conceived by the woman he loved, an extension of himself...

Here was a being more precious and fragile than any of the sheep sheltered within his fence, one he had to protect at any cost.

"We should keep it secret for now, shouldn't we?"

"Yes. For the time being."

In ordinary times, it would simply have been cause for celebration. With enemies all around them, that was impossible. If Maysa's pregnancy became widely known, their enemies would focus their attacks on her whenever a fight broke out.

Pregnancy would not greatly diminish her mana or magical skill. The problem was that the child in her womb could not withstand attacks she could easily endure. How could she fight properly if she had to dodge every blow that would normally do no more than sting?

No, there would be problems even after the birth. This would be the child of two people who were, in effect, both great-house heads.

With dreadful luck, the child might take after their commoner grandmother and be born weak. Otherwise, their innate talent would most likely be top-ranking or higher. That alone would make their enemies desperate to kill or steal the child. All the more so when those enemies were fallen gods who delighted in stealing the bodies of the gifted.

Maysa stroked her belly as she spoke.

"I just feel so sorry for our baby. I wish they could be born with everyone's blessing."

Though Turan and Maysa were partners in all but name, they had never held a formal partnership ceremony. This was to smooth her accession as Arabion's ruler after they eventually attacked and conquered it.

For instance, had Turan been a woman and Solif his partner, Baraha's nobles would have felt several times as much resentment. It would have made their house's reduction to a Parsha puppet plain for all to see.

As things stood, however, their first child had abruptly become little different from a bastard.

"I'll make that happen."

"What?"

"I'll make sure this child is born with everyone's blessing. As my rightful heir."

Maysa's eyes widened in surprise at the words he murmured like a vow. How could that possibly be as simple as he made it sound? Quite apart from social issues like formalizing their partnership, they did not even know whether their child would possess House Head-level talent...

"Oh, you don't mean...?"

"Yes. Not yet, though. The baby will have to grow a little more."

Turan nodded in answer to her unfinished question. Soul magic could manipulate the talents of fetuses and newborns to some degree, just as the gods did—using vast quantities of souls as raw material.

His method would differ from theirs, but now that the half-elves had taught him some of the techniques, he could do something similar if he chose.

"That doesn't mean we have to sacrifice innocent people like those bastards. There's plenty of material available."

The fallen gods lurking in other houses far away. Grinding their souls into material would quite literally kill two birds with one stone.

Not only could he grant his child exceptional talent, he could give them a clean world free of fallen gods coveting their body.

* * *

After learning of Maysa's pregnancy, Turan restricted her activities and movements so she would never be far from his side, just as he had when she exhausted herself making Solif's Sun Cloak.

Only the most trustworthy maids were allowed close enough to notice her morning sickness and other signs. On top of that, he took one further measure.

"I have done wrong, my lord... Please, forgive me just this once..."

"Take her away."

At Turan's command, the knights dragged the weeping, pleading maid away. Somewhere she would never return from.

Standing beside him, Asiz watched her being dragged away and muttered, looking as though he had swallowed bitter medicine.

"Yanel... We even used to play house together when I was little."

Until now, Turan had tolerated spies who were recruited locals rather than agents directly dispatched by other houses. Such people would have difficulty stealing important house secrets anyway, and he had calculated that blocking them would only invite more insidious methods of infiltration.

Now that he had something he absolutely had to conceal, however, he mobilized every means at his disposal, including the Zahar bloodline's keen nose, to root out the house's traitors in earnest. As a result, he discovered that more people than expected were under other houses' influence.

As Asiz had said, even the maid just taken away had served House Berg for many years, making her one of those permitted to attend Maysa.

"If it's too hard, would you like to leave it to someone else?"

"No, no. I'm the butler. I should take care of it myself. Yes."

After wavering briefly, Asiz shook his head and spoke with renewed resolve. Turan's role was merely to determine who was a spy and who was not.

Dealing with those against whom an investigation produced clear evidence, and finding replacements to fill their positions, were all his responsibility. That was what a butler's position entailed.

After offering Asiz some encouragement, Turan walked down the somewhat emptier corridors and looked around. In the wake of the upheaval, the house's previously lively atmosphere had visibly stiffened.

'It'll probably stay like this for a while...'

It was inevitable when people who had been laughing and chatting only yesterday were executed as spies bought by other houses. This was another reason he had put off rooting them out.

Even if he expelled them now, more would come, or someone else would be bribed. Repeated inspections and expulsions would not only exhaust him but lower everyone's morale. Though Turan had sound grounds for identifying them, those being inspected would fear they might suddenly be hauled away one day.

'More importantly, I wasn't expecting so many from Arabion.'

It was quite surprising that more than half the spies uncovered this time had been sent by Arabion or House Nagin. Since Badal's last failed raid, they had publicly ignored Parsha as though it did not exist.

Given Badal's parting words on that occasion, Turan had assumed they were too occupied with something important internally to pay attention to him. Yet behind that pretense, they had been desperate to steal his information.

By comparison, there were far fewer Zahar spies than he had expected—fewer even than Karmine's or Ruban's. Most likely, that was because of Berit.

They would have reasoned that she could access most of the information maids were capable of gathering. Of course, now that he had notified them of her transfer to Baraha, Zahar might soon start employing spies again...

'At least we can see a little of what's going on their side now.'

Entering his office, Turan took several pages of Berit's recently received reports from a sealed document box.

They contained information on none other than House Zahar's current high-ranking nobles: their names, family connections, usual dispositions, and secrets...

Of course, Berit herself enjoyed only a moderate degree of respect as the heir's daughter, so her research could hardly be called complete. Even so, this was far better than knowing nothing at all.

The document on top drew Turan's particular attention. An elderly man with hair half gone white, combed back from his face.

"Harun Zahar..."

Written there was information about Zahar's House Head, the man he would soon have to meet.

* * *

At winter's end, when new shoots were beginning to emerge, House Parsha was busy preparing for a large-scale journey. It would involve more than five hundred people.

They were going to receive Zahar's House Head, who was coming from the Enril Desert to the southeast.

"You there! You've packed the freezer, right?"

"Of course! Oh, wait..."

"You haven't packed it! Do you have a death wish?"

Most had little experience with this sort of undertaking, so there were a few mishaps. Still, with so much time to prepare, the work somehow progressed.

Before long, Kalamap's southern gate opened, and a long procession began to move: monsters carrying great loads, people traveling on foot, and a dozen or so riders on monsters.

Onlookers exclaimed as the great house that protected the Gray Zone marched out. They had never realized it when seeing its members individually, but gathered together, they presented a truly imposing sight.

"Now that really is something."

"But why are so many wizards heading out? Another war?"

"I know someone in the castle, and I hear Zahar's House Head is coming."

"Really?"

"I'm telling you."

"Then are we going to war with Zahar too? Seems like the whole world's becoming our enemy."

"Even if it isn't war, House Heads need armies when they meet! People are no different from animals. Even if you go to talk, once the other side looks weak, don't you feel like gobbling them right up?"

"I see. So that's how it is..."

They had been told to keep quiet to a degree, but naturally, nothing could stop rumors spreading under the surface. Nor had anyone tried particularly hard to suppress something impossible to police anyway.

At the rear of the procession, Turan briefly touched cheeks with Maysa in a final farewell before leaving.

"I'll be back soon."

"I really wish I could go with you..."

"I'll be fine. And remember what I said: if anything happens, evacuate to Baraha. That's why I'm leaving Armani here."

When they first arranged the meeting, Maysa had been meant to accompany him. Things had changed. If he brought her and fighting broke out, if a stray blow harmed their child, he would never forgive himself.

"I'm more worried about you than myself."

"Solif's coming with me. There won't be a problem."

"I know, but still."

Solif was currently using Turan's borrowed mask to pose as his personal servant. Turan's closest confidants naturally knew his identity, but Zahar would probably never suspect it.

Even if they had set some trap, the two of them leading an army would be more than capable of overcoming it and escaping alive. Besides, Ravista, whose forces had returned recently, would also be there.

After reassuring Maysa several more times, Turan returned to the center of the formation and ordered the march.

Parsha's army consisted of some fifty nobles and four hundred eighty knights. Besides the addition of several recently arrived wandering nobles, the numbers had been bolstered by temporarily levying more troops from the other vassals for this meeting.

Setting out amid admiring exclamations, the army traveled smoothly southeast. The journey from Kalamap to Vigen, the city closest to the Enril Desert, would take about four days.

As they traveled, Vije returned from delivering a message to Ravista in the south. Turan fed her jerky and asked a question.

"Good girl. Eating well, aren't you? How far have they come?"

"About a day's walk from here, at the flock's pace!"

"Then they'll reach the meeting place right on time. Good. We won't have to hurry. What about Zahar?"

"Saw them on the way back. They're a little behind!"

"Running late, then."

A day's march for the three houses' armies was less than a few dozen minutes' flight for Vije, allowing Turan to monitor and coordinate their progress this way. Even their current pace was possible only because the armies consisted of wizards and monsters.

Had physically fit commoners tried to keep up on foot, they would probably have run at full speed for the first few dozen minutes before collapsing from exhaustion.

After another day's march, Ravista's army arrived almost exactly on schedule, just as Vije had said. Osel greeted Turan with a jovial remark.

"I spent almost my entire life shut away at home before becoming House Head. Somehow, I've been traveling more often since taking the position."

"I'm simply grateful you came."

"No need for that. Of course I'd honor a request from Parsha's House Head. I owe you no small debt."

Ordinarily, it was common sense for great-house heads and heirs to stay within their main houses as a precaution against assassination. These last few years could instead be called an era in which that common sense had been shattered far too often.

"Did the others not come?"

"No, as it happens."

While saying that aloud, Turan quietly conveyed through wind magic that Solif was with him. Osel merely twitched an eyebrow without replying.

Even as the two great-house heads chatted, their subordinates swiftly decorated the border area with the supplies they had brought. This was an important occasion at which no fewer than three great-house heads would meet for talks. Watching the empty wilderness transform in moments into a respectable venue was impressive.

While those preparations were underway, Turan excused himself briefly from Osel, slipped out of camp under stealth with Vije, and headed southeast. Before long, he spotted an army approaching their location.

'Let's see... Good. There he is.'

Turan had come ahead to check in case Zahar had lured them out here only to attack their home base separately. Berit had assured him there was no cause for such concern, but one could never be too sure.

Those fears proved unfounded. In the heart of the approaching Zahar army, he saw a being whose mana was slightly greater than even Osel's or Resion's. Zahar's House Head was right in the middle of that procession.