The Lion’s Daughter

I grew up watching that large back of his...

My father was a big man, but the size of the things he carried on his

shoulders made him appear even greater than he actually was. He

shouldered the country and the people who lived there as he faced our

enemies, served the royal family on a level above himself and his own.

Father believed that they would protect the nation, and protecting the

nation would in turn protect his own family. He was awkward and didn't

spend much time at home, but as his daughter, I was still proud of him all

the same. Proud of that large back of his—the back of a man who everyone

relied on and respected.

When he fought to defend something, his martial prowess would

overwhelm any foe. I admired and aspired to be like that myself. It was this

desire to be like him one day which led me to live the path of a warrior. At

first, Father did not approve of a woman like me seeking strength, but when

I asked him to teach me, he responded with sincerity. He trained me, and

allowed me to watch as he led his troops.

He was never one for words, but I feel like he told me a lot of stories

during our sparring sessions. He pulled his punches against me at first, but

each time he held back a little less, I felt as though he was praising me,

saying, "You've gotten stronger." But, well, he never actually said it out

loud...

Ultimately, I didn't manage to beat him even once; still, though, I think I

ended up strong in my own right. But now... The father who taught me to

live as a warrior is no more.

He was captured as a traitor, and died in prison. Father raised a rebellion

against the royal family that he had so loved and respected—that he has put

his life on the line to serve—and he was captured in the ensuing war. In the

end, he took his own life. The fame he had built up was lost, and all that

remained was the infamy of that treasonous act.

I was in a foreign land when I learned of my father's fate. You see, prior

to raising his rebellion, he disowned us—his family—and sent us out of the

country. It was probably so that if the rebellion failed... No, because he

knew the rebellion would fail, and he didn't want us to be held accountable

for his actions. Perhaps Mother could sense his grim determination, because

she obeyed him without letting him see her cry. I was ready to stop my

father, even if it meant having to fight him, but I was rendered unconscious

with a surprise attack. When I came to, I was already outside the country,

and unable to return.

When I received word of my father's passing, I cried. Enough for my

mother's share, too, when she admirably did not. Then, after crying my

heart out, I stood up. I wanted to learn what it was my father truly meant to

do. Even though the way the throne had changed hands had been awfully

sudden, I couldn't imagine that my father, so full of loyalty to the royal

family, would have started a rebellion.

I didn't know what the new king—I believe his name was Souma—was

like, but Princess Liscia, who my father had cared for just as much as he

cared for me, was with him. The princess supported King Souma, and had

sent a number of letters to Father requesting that he talk things over with

him directly. Yet Father never responded. Then he started the rebellion, and

even went so far as to make an enemy of the princess.

No one who knew my father could ever have imagined him doing it. He

would never have placed the princess in danger. That was why I knew there

had to be some secret motive behind my father's rebellion. I wanted to

know what it was. As his daughter... The daughter of Georg Carmine.

◇ ◇ ◇

Father's name echoed throughout the land as a warrior of superior talent.

The Carmine Duchy was largely made up of land won from the Kingdom of

Amidonia in the time when Queen Elisha's father, the king two reigns

before King Souma, was in power. This seized land, still inhabited by its

former citizens, could not possibly have been ruled by a halfhearted

individual. It goes without saying that my father, the head of the House of

Carmine and chosen ruler of the Duchy, was no ordinary man.

Eventually, with the passing of the king, a succession crisis broke out,

ending with Lady Elisha as the royal family's sole survivor. It was then that

her husband King Albert took the throne. Father had been friends with King

Albert for a long time, and he had great trust for him.

Respected by the people, and feared by the Amidonians. That was my

father, Georg Carmine.

— The 6th month, 1545th year, Continental Calendar —

This happened about a year before King Souma was summoned.

When your domain borders a hostile state, you never know when you

might be caught in the fires of war. In fact, Randel, the central city of the

Carmine Duchy, was so close to Van, the capital of the Principality of

Amidonia, that it was fair to say they were right in front of each other's

noses. Because of that, there were troops stationed on the border at all

times, and they closely monitored any moves the other side made. Though

that may have helped to prevent any major conflicts, skirmishes on the

border were still a frequent occurrence.

During the reign of King Albert, it seems they insulted our country as

being "peace-addled," but that could not have been further from the truth.

On that day, there were reports of small-scale clashes near a bridge crossing

close to the border. Father took his second-in-command, Sir Beowulf, and

rushed to the scene on horseback. Because I pushed for it, I was allowed to

accompany them, too.

"Though there were no fatalities according to the report, magic was

used, and there have been casualties. Currently, forces from both sides are

staring each other down from opposite ends of the bridge." Beowulf

reported on the situation as we rode towards the site.

"Was it both sides that used magic?" Father asked.

"Yes, sir." Beowulf nodded. "That seems to be the case."

"...That is fine, then," my father sighed. "If our forces attack them too

hard, we could end up giving the Principality excuses that we don't have

to."

Personally, I was not satisfied with that answer.

"Father, why must we show such consideration to the Principality?

Doesn't their country only have half the power and troops that ours does?" I

asserted.

"Lady Mio, that's...!" Beowulf tried to say something, but Father held

up his hand to silence him.

"Mio, you just spoke of power and troop totals, correct?"

"Yes."

"Do you think this kingdom can afford to fight the Principality now?" he

asked, eyeing me for my response.

"Are you referring to the food crisis? I do believe our opponents are

equally affected by that."

"There is more to it than just food," he rebutted. "The wounds left by the

succession crisis have still yet to heal. Seeds of discontent have taken root

throughout the members of noble and knightly classes."

"Do you mean some would betray us to join the Principality?"

That was absurd. The principality must have been hit even harder by the

food shortages—they barely had any fertile land. Surely no one would

defect to a country like that.

That was what I thought as I looked at my father, but he just sighed

again. "No, they may not openly betray us. However, it is entirely possible

that they might be hesitant to cooperate, leak information to the enemy, fail

to send needed aid to our allies, or deliberately delay their response to

orders."

"They'd engage in those sorts of... childish pranks?" I chided.

"Individually, those small betrayals may not be serious. But when many

of them overlap, they shake the framework of our country. Albert... His

Majesty is working desperately to keep them in check right now."

"...You're saying the Kingdom can't present a unified front against the

Principality right now?"

Father nodded and asserted, "Because His Majesty married into the

royal family, tamping down that discontent is the best he can do. If we are

to make this country truly one again, we will have to count on the next

generation to do it."

"The next generation... You mean Princess Liscia? I've heard that she's

quite wise."

"She can be inflexible and a little too active at times, though," Father

said, a wry smile on his face.

Despite her upbringing, Princess Liscia had graduated from the officers'

academy, and was now learning from my father as she served. Because of

how Father viewed the royal family, I felt like his attitude towards her was

more fatherly than anything he ever showed me, his real daughter. A long

time ago, I was upset over this and raised the issue with my mother. She got

a good laugh out of it.

"It's easier to be open with your feelings and fawn on the daughter of

another family. There's no responsibility to be a parent there. You'll

understand when you grow up," was what she told me.

I couldn't understand it at the time, but from the next day onward, the

time Father would spend training me grew a little longer. Mother must have

told him how I felt. He never said anything about it, but he must have

decided that extended training would be his response. That was when I

realized my father was an awkward person.

But Princess Liscia, huh? Though we were both learning from my

father, because of my position as the heir to House Carmine, he didn't want

me to get too involved with the military, so I had little contact with her. I

was incredibly jealous that she got to work alongside him.

"It's coming into view now," Beowulf called out to us. His words

brought me back to my senses.

Off in the distance, there were guards planted on both sides of the

bridge, staring each other down. The mood was so tense that if any soldier

were to draw their sword, or even throw a rock, it could spark another clash.

"Ohh, Duke Carmine."

Noticing my father's arrival, the soldiers of the Kingdom parted to open

a path for him. It looked like a representative for the Principality had just

arrived, too. When we touched ground at the bridge, a handsome young

man with cold eyes appeared from the Principality end. He approached our

side, flanked by burly warriors.

"You must be Sir Georg Carmine," the young man said as he looked up

at my father. "I am Julius, crown prince of Amidonia. In my father's name,

I have come to quell this disturbance."

If he was the crown prince, did that make him the son of Gaius VIII, the

current sovereign prince of Amidonia? It seemed that because the capital

was so close to here, a member of the princely family had come to handle

the situation personally.

"Indeed, I am Georg Carmine," my father responded. There was a

solemn dignity to his voice, but Julius showed no reaction to it.

"This is a waste of time, so I'd like to cut to the chase," Julius spoke in a

dispassionate and bureaucratic manner. "Our country has no intention of

attacking yours at the moment. We see this clash as the result of the soldiers

getting out of control. How about you?"

Even though soldiers were injured on both sides, his words were as cold

as his eyes. Still, it did not take my father long to reply.

"...We are of the same opinion."

"Then could I ask that both sides withdraw their troops?"

"Very well."

"Father!" I exclaimed. "Are you really all right with this? There are

people injured. If we don't make it clear who's to blame, then..."

"Stand down, Mio." Father gave me a piercing look. I gulped and

swallowed the rest of my words.

"Hmph," Julius snorted. "If we were to try to attribute blame, the

argument would go on forever. It's a waste of time. The sparks of discontent

are always smoldering within us, after all."

There was a visible hostility in Julius's eyes. Father stepped forward

quickly and said, "That's true. I doubt either of us desires an all-out war."

"...!" His tone hadn't been threatening. In fact, he had kept his voice

quiet. And yet, I could tell that the weight of Father's dignified presence

had made Julius gulp. "Understood... We'll be careful not to cause one."

"Yes. Both of us should be."

Father and Julius stared one another down, then each turned his back on

the other, as if to say the discussion was at an end. We had avoided an allout war for now, so the wounded on both sides were carried away for

treatment.

Suddenly, a lone young man raced out from the Principality's side.

"Please, wait!" he cried out.

The man, who wore no armor or uniform, was tall and lanky, and gave

me the impression he was a bureaucrat of some sort.

"Colbert." Julius's brow furrowed as he looked at him. His face seemed

to say, "Why are you here?"

The man called Colbert rushed over to Father and put his hands together

in front of him. "I am Gatsby Colbert, an official in charge of the finances

of the Principality of Amidonia."

"...Hmm." Father turned and looked down at Colbert. "I am Georg

Carmine. Did you have some business with me?"

"Ah...!"

For a moment, Colbert seemed cowed by the atmosphere that a warrior

like my father gave off, but he mustered his courage, and looked into my

father's lion eyes.

"Y-Your soldier's attack has destroyed a boathouse used by the people of

our domain! Our fishermen rely on it for their livelihood, and we demand

compensation!"

"...On what basis do you claim this was done by us?" Father asked.

Colbert produced a piece of paper from his pocket. "We have confirmed

that there are lacerations caused by wind magic at the site. Our border

guards may include individuals who use fire or earth magic, but we have no

wind magic users. Furthermore, our soldiers have attested that people on

your side used wind magic."

Father quietly looked through the materials presented, then snorted,

"...Very well. We will pay to repair the boathouse."

"Thank you. Do you mind if we make an estimate of the cost?"

"I will trust your judgment."

"Understood."

After exchanging those few words, my father returned, and I asked him,

"Was that all right? Admitting fault so easily?"

"There was no hostility towards the Kingdom in that young man's eyes,"

Father said, letting out a little laugh. "He was simply thinking of those who

had been hurt. Even under my gaze, his eyes remained unswerving. He had

the will to look me in the eye. That is proof he had nothing to hide."

Father crossed his arms and watched as Julius and Colbert walked away

side-by-side.

"The crown prince is a calculating ruler, able to handle things with

pragmatism, while the bureaucrat is unafraid to make his opinion known,

even to military men. Amidonia has produced some promising youths, too.

It seems... we can't afford to let our guards down."

It was then that I burned the image of those men who my father had

viewed with deference into my eyes.

"Mio, I hear you've had trouble concentrating on your lessons on how to

manage a domain." On the way back, Father called out to me.

"Urkh... I'll admit, it's not my best subject..."

"Sigh... You're not a bad warrior, though."

Though I was pleased he recognized me as a warrior, that sigh made me

feel like I was being called out for my shortcomings—it was awfully

conflicting.

"It's difficult to be the lord of a large domain when all your skills are of

the martial variety. My own father was always telling me that."

"Grandfather said that to you?"

"Yes. There was a time when my skills were purely martial, too. I leaned

on my wife for support, and over a long period of time I got used to it, but...

it seems my blood runs thick in your veins."

"...I'm sorry."

Mother was a woman of great wisdom, and because Father was away

from home so often as part of his duties, she was effectively the one who

handled the administrative side of things. I was often told I looked like my

mother when she was young, but I apparently inherited none of her

inclination toward domestic affairs.

"I-If we have to, let's bring in a husband who is good at handling

internal administration!" I said.

"...Yes, I suspect that's how it's going to go." Father gazed up to the sky.

"I pray it will be a bureaucrat with spine, like that young man."

Hearing the tone of resignation in my father's voice, I couldn't say

anything. And, as Sir Beowulf listened to our exchange, a smile broke out

on his face as he suppressed a laugh.

◇ ◇ ◇

However, the day when I would inherit the Carmine Duchy never came.

Three years had passed since then.

"I'm going now, Mother," I said, with two longswords strapped to my

back and a full-face helmet held under my arm.

Mother gave me a slightly troubled look. Putting one hand on her cheek,

she sighed, "Mio... There's no need for you to endanger yourself over him,

you know? I'm sure he wouldn't want you to, either."

"...Maybe not. But I don't want to leave it like this." I put a hand on my

mother's shoulder as her lion tail drooped. "No matter how things ended up,

I believe that Father fought with determination. That's why I want to know

the truth. If I find out that he truly wanted to defeat the current king, then..."

"Mio, your father didn't want us getting caught up in it..."

"I know that. But I've already made up my mind," I replied to her, as I

looked into her eyes.

With another sigh, she said, "Once you set your mind on something, you

won't bend. That stubbornness must have come from your father."

"Of course. I am his daughter, after all."

"I see..." Mother lowered her head. "...In that case, do what you want."

She looked at me again, now with a gleaming strength in her eyes.

"I'll accept whatever result that determination of yours brings. If you

say that willfulness is because of his blood, then that is my own

determination. As his wife, and as your mother."

"Mother..."

I felt something hot rising in my chest, and the tears nearly began to

flow. I put on my helmet to shield my face before turning my back towards

her.

"I swear I will emerge victorious. Then I will have my wish granted."

"...Please, just don't take on more than you can handle, Mio."

With those words from my mother, I left the house.