act29side

Hmph. She thinks herself the gentle mother.

Your words would sting her.

Grimmacht, my harsh Kaiserin, it is so unsettling to see such sentimentality on your face.

Lieselotte truly loves Leithanien and its people. As such, she is destined to stand in my way.

Good. Now there's the dark, brooding look I know and love.

Did you want to convince me that you'll be able to see it through when the time comes?

Many scholars believe that those born from Arts, like us, are born without a soul.

Tsk.

They say the same of you. They believe that we are of the same kind.

Oh? For our lack of souls, or for our cruelty?

Help me one more time, Fremont.

We must find the Witch King's legacy.

(Indistinct voice)

Someone... calling to me?

Was it... you?

Where's the one who saved my life?

Dead.

I'm sorry... Once again, I've let the courage of another go to waste.

...Nngh!

Water?

You poured water on my face?

Drink.

You're mistaken if you think I'll simply cooper—

Ugh!

If you won't drink, I'll have to take other measures.

*cough* *cough* Is this... medicine? Or some novel form of torture, Herr Executioner?

Dying is easy, especially for a frail, Infected noble.

But you have only one chance to do it.

Before you die, think carefully about how you really want to make your curtain call.

The sound I heard when I was passed out...

It was you, sharpening your sword.

It got some dirt on it on the way back.

It had better be sharp enough.

My neck is sturdier than you might think.

That's not for you to decide.

Hah... Are we on top of a spire?

I'm not going to let you jump off, if that's what you mean. As I said, there are no second chances.

It almost sounds like you want me to live.

It doesn't matter what I want. It's my responsibility.

You also have own responsibilities, don't you? You returned to Leithanien. Don't run away again, like a child.

Perhaps your employer forgot to mention this, but Graf Urtica is dead.

But the Urtica Grafschaft still exists.

You're still the last of House Urtica.

But I never wanted—

Running away doesn't make problems disappear.

No one can choose their birth. In that sense, we're all the same.

Is that what you tell yourself to justify serving as an executioner for that evil old fart? That you had no choice but to become his follower?

Nein. It's how I remind myself what it took to gain the freedom I have now.

What?

Using the name Urtica, the one you call an 'evil old fart' changed my family's destiny.

Everything I do today, I do to protect the hard-earned freedom of myself and many like me.

You're... thanking the Witch King?!

I'm just stating a fact.

A 'fact,' huh?

What about the 'fact' that he spilled so much blood? What about the 'fact' that his remnants have claimed so many innocent victims?

Did you think you could ignore all the pain he inflicted on others, just because of some convenient 'fact'?!

The Witch King is dead. Let the historians, politicians, and everyone else with too much time on their hands judge his deeds.

I'm a warrior. My only concern is the battle in front of me, and the battle to come.

If he truly left anything behind, then whether his legacy is good or bad isn't up to him anymore. It's up to those who make use of it.

As his heir, that's how you should be thinking.

Don't you dare look at me like that!

Your wounds are going to open up.

I don't need sympathy from a remnant of the Witch King!

Graf—

Not another word!

Ebenholz.

Which of us do you really think isn't brave enough to face the 'facts' of the Witch King?

That'll do, Lessing.

...Welcome back.

Are the Arts ready?

Arts...?

Hopefully what's in your head will come in useful, lamb of Urtica.

Now, let me see it—

Argh!

The melody is surprisingly intact, considering Leithanians know nothing of souls.

Sometimes I wonder if these people meticulously recorded even what Herkunftshorn mumbled in his sleep...

I almost miss those metaphors of his, when he used to curse out his tutor.

Y-You knew the old fart? Who are you?

Old fart? Is that how you talk about the elders of your own family? I thought you Leithanians were all about etiquette and manners. Well, that's the one thing you have in common with him, I suppose.

I have NOTHING in common with him!

Stop screaming. Are you a three-month old baby? Crying any louder won't make anyone listen.

Why don't you do something useful with your mouth? I could teach you some vocal Arts that can be cast with your tongue alone.

I'm not taking lessons from a minion of the Witch King!

A ball of Arts? Was that what hit you the last time, Lessing?

I was careless.

How many times do I have to tell you: You need to do more than swing your sword around! Train your Arts perception! I hope you never tell anyone I raised you, you stupid sheep!

I never have.

As for you, I suppose it's noteworthy that you can manage that without an Arts unit.

But your manipulation of energy couldn't be more clumsy. Are you <i>trying</i> to blow yourself up? Who taught you to use your lesions like that? The imbeciles in the spires?

It's all the Witch King's—

Fools. They learned from Herkunftshorn's madness, but without a sliver of his skill.

Mmph—Argh!

That's better, my little lamb. It's best that you stay put, for everyone's safety.

Check the defensive enchantment, Lessing.

Professor Hoffmann is on his way. You should wait until he arrives.

We need to get this over with quickly, before we draw the attention of the Empresses' Voice and the Gesatzswächter.

Fine. Gerhard won't be of much help, but it's not the worst thing for him to learn a lesson or two.

The Genesis Horn...

Hmph. How long as it been?

Karl Schmidt Street.