CHAPTER 64: CHAPTER 52 I WANT TO SEE HIM MYSELF

The atmosphere on the flying dragon’s back turned ice-cold in an instant.

Even Fioran, a fighter of Titled Rank, felt an indescribable sense of oppression from the nearly solidified air.

Even the giant Black Scales Drake beneath them seemed to notice that something was off.

It ceased its roars and instead slowly flapped its massive wings, silently gliding through the high skies, minimizing its presence as much as possible.

"Your Highness—" Fioran began hesitantly. "As you said earlier, Shiayar Egutt is still just a young man, full of vigor and youthful impulsiveness. Some audacious fantasies are naturally within reason..."

Just then, Fioran’s voice suddenly halted because she saw Isadella’s lips slightly curl.

Her previously ice-cold expression melted away like snow, and a smile appeared on the Second Princess’s pale face.

Like the moonlight flowers that bloom only at midnight in the Star-Moon Forest, fleeting yet beautifully splendid.

Caught off guard by this sudden change, Fioran was momentarily stunned.

The Emperor was gravely ill. Consequently, the Second Princess shouldered the Empire’s burdens at an age when her peers were still Chanting Flowers and Courting Butterflies. She spent her days and nights with military documents and a cold practice sword, always presenting an image of inscrutable perfection and cool detachment.

Since leaving the White Tower and swearing allegiance to the Empire, after years of following the Princess before her, this was the first time Fioran had seen Isadella smile.

And all this was because of a senior student from St. Roland Academy—because of his somewhat absurd dream vision.

Fioran was a bit lost. "Your Highness, why do you smile? Are you not angry anymore?"

The smile on Isadella’s pale countenance quickly faded, returning to her usual solemn and sharp demeanor.

"Do you think I was angry because the projection showed myself?"

The silver-haired Princess looked at the light screen before her, her eyes more relaxed than usual.

"I am not so petty."

"Or rather, as a citizen of the Empire, if his fantasy had involved the Holy See’s Saintess, the Queen of the Night... and yet excluded me, that would have been surprising."

Her words carried an ineffable confidence. "The Empire is vast and possesses the magnanimity to accommodate others. As long as there are no fundamental conflicts of stance... then whether one is from the Abyss’s demonic tribe or a mighty figure revived from ancient times, there is room for them here."

Isadella settled back onto the dragon’s spine, leaning against the soft cushion. Her jade-white hand flicked through the air, and a pitch-black goblet materialized from the void, grasped by her elegant fingers.

"Lord Fioran, do you know what I was thinking when I first saw Shiayar Egutt’s dreamscapes?"

Fioran also relaxed and casually sat down on the dragon’s back. After a moment of contemplation, she spoke, "I think, Your Highness, you must be pleased that the Empire has gained a rising star with such vision and talent. With time, he could certainly become a pillar of strength for the Empire."

"No." Isadella shook her head slightly, her Crimson eyes gazing at the crimson liquid within the dark goblet. "When I first saw his dream of the Sea of Stars—I was afraid. Shiayar Egutt’s vision, his talent, are far too extraordinary. Such fantasies of the Sea of Stars, although currently far beyond what magictech technology can achieve... But given time, if those imagined magictech constructs were brought into reality, the resulting leap in civilization would be unimaginable. Of course, if that were all, I would have no need to fear. I would simply rejoice at having such a talented individual in the Empire."

Isadella drained the crimson wine in her glass.

"Fioran, have you not noticed... in the utopia that Shiayar fantasized, within that civilization of the Sea of Stars, there exist neither national distinctions nor racial barriers? Even mortals hold the same status as the powerful, free to roam the starry seas at will. There’s no harm in such thoughts, but—Shiayar Egutt, he stands too tall... He has transcended the limitations of nations and Races, thinking instead from the perspective of our civilization’s entire development. Yet, he is precisely such a sage, with the vision and ability to change eras. This means he is unconstrained by any worldly gain and not limited by the perspective of any one nation or power. Instead, his considerations are for the entirety of humanity at all times."

"But I am different." The silver-haired Princess’s gaze was stern and serious. "I am of the Fresta Empire’s Royal Family. My lineage, along with the responsibility that comes from my bloodline, dictates that I cannot think beyond the notion of national allegiance, from the whole of civilization’s perspective, as he does. Therefore, to me, such an unconstrained and unjudgeable sage, with the power to change an era, is far too dangerous— If he ultimately sides with another nation, for the Fresta Empire, that would equate to a disaster of catastrophic proportions."

Isadella gently swirled the wine in her glass, saying no more.

Yet Fioran understood the unspoken yet resolute implications in the silver-haired Princess’s words. It wasn’t a matter of Isadella’s personal preference, but entirely due to the mission and responsibility she bore as the Empire’s Second Princess. Therefore, there were some things she simply had to do, and could not refrain from doing.

This thought made Fioran shiver, a sense of dread rising in her heart. If Isadella’s determination turned into reality, then she, who hailed from the White Chalk Tower, might have to confront him with naked blades, all because of that uncertain suspicion.

"Fortunately..." The silver-haired Princess’s relief-laden sigh echoed in the howling, frigid gales of the northern skies, disappearing quickly, unheard by anyone.

Fortunately, this black-haired youth named Shiayar Egutt was not that kind of Saint who sat high above the clouds, detached from the emotions and desires of mortals, looking down upon the world like a deity. He was a living, breathing person. A person made of flesh and blood.

After a long while, Isadella’s cool voice finally rang out again.

"I want to meet him personally."

「...」

Unbeknownst to anyone, the rosy dreamscape slowly solidified and came to a halt. Then, it shattered into glistening fragments.

Shiayar’s gaze lingered on the continuously fracturing dreamscape and the void beyond the broken dream, his composure and detachment returning.

If it’s been demonstrated to this extent, it should be about right.

「......」