“Medith…” Sais’s brows lifted like question marks in mist, and Gill nodded, a quiet stamp of approval. Medith sat, fingers locked like knotted roots, pondering in still water silence.

After a stretch of breath, she decided. “Then it’s simple. Besides him, do either of you want to cooperate?”

“Absolutely not!” The two snapped in unison, voices like bowstrings breaking.

Medith shrugged, wind over grass, waved them closer, and pressed travel money and rations into their hands, coin like cold moons and bread like dry tundra, enough to reach the city.

“Go. Go back to your country. We’re not butchers, and we don’t slaughter the innocent. Carry what you’ve seen like wind through reeds to the neighbors, to your Emperor.”

“They’re strong, and they stand shoulder to shoulder, a woven shield. They don’t abandon comrades, and they don’t stab backs. Pull one thread and the whole tapestry moves. No one kills a comrade of the Dusk Legion and walks away untouched.”

“Go! And don’t say I didn’t warn you. This road is thorn and fang—Mountain Bandits and cutthroats everywhere. If you don’t find a patron fast and die halfway, don’t pin it on me.” Medith shoved them lightly, like tossing driftwood to the current, driving them toward the Southern Kingdom border.

They had gone a fair way, into the place where continents kiss, crossroads bare and lawless, a true land outside the law. The two traded a look, eyes like startled sparrows, as if they couldn’t believe Medith had simply let them walk.

Gill drew his sword, silver rain in a sunless sky, murder in his gaze. “Not leaving? Need me to send you home in one second?”

“Medith has a kind heart. I don’t. Southern Kingdom folk should all die.” His voice hit like iron on bone.

“Ah—go!” Terror buckled their knees like wet reeds. They tumbled and ran, crashing into the deep woods, swallowed by green shadow.

Sais flicked her head, pride sharp as a blade. “Hmph! Mangy dogs only move when yanked.”

“Medith, is this really okay… If they make it back, they could end up running countless gallows-carts, even designing them,” Gill said, worry a cold hand on his chest.

Medith snorted a laugh, water splashing on stone. “Come on, I’m not stupid. I studied that cart’s guts. With gears like spider silk, no way two ‘junior scholars’ run it.”

“Besides, the road back is murder—vipers and scorpions, a forest with teeth, beasts crouched in the brush. Our army’s pressure was thunder; our killing aura scared those things into burrows. Those two?” She spread a palm, a leaf in wind. “Maybe one in ten thousand chance.”

Sais hummed twice, sly smile like moonlight through bamboo. “You little fox. So you’re letting the wild swing the blade, dodging righteous backlash.”

Medith put on an innocent face, clear spring over pebble. “I did my best. If they die to beasts and snakes, who do they blame? I didn’t unleash them.”

The remaining scholar watched, face like blank stone, as Medith and the others joked and killed without lifting a knife, as if those two had nothing to do with him.

“You’re Pers, right?” Medith’s tone turned, like a river bending.

Pers nodded, expression flat as slate.

“Good. If you use someone, don’t doubt; if you doubt, don’t use. I already took in the Southern Kingdom Hunting Corps—why not a Southern Kingdom scholar?”

“Someone! Assign guards to Pers. Meet his requests as best you can.”

“Pers, I expect results before we head back.” Her words flew like arrows to a mark.

Pers smiled, a calm ripple. “Yes, Commander. I’ll do what I can.”

“Shall I also collate all Southern Kingdom intel I know for you?”

“All the better.” Medith’s smile was a warm lantern.

Sais slid close, looping her arm through Medith’s, voice a breeze through reeds. “Hey, aren’t you afraid he’s a spy? What if he nestles in and tips off the Southern Kingdom?”

“Relax.” Medith’s arm settled around Sais’s waist, solid as a winter oak, the picture of a reliable husband. “Not to brag, but in two lives I haven’t misread a soul. I’m the author, running God-view—how could I lose?”

“Ah?” Sais tilted her head, a big question mark shining in her eyes.

Medith laughed twice, awkward as gravel. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I mean, the author’s padding the word count using me.”

“...” Sais’s gaze tightened to a needle, fear blooming like frost. “Medith, are you… okay? Don’t scare me…”

“No worries. Hey, when we get back, how about we get married?” Medith’s hands wandered like mischievous fish.

Sais pushed them away, playful and sharp. “Ugh— Already back to your old tricks? What about that witch? Aren’t you keeping your Xier?”

“If you ask me, your left hand needs another scar, so you finally learn.”

Medith laughed twice, then her face settled, nostalgia rising like a moon. She saw again Melia’s quiet smile, the way she looked at the X-shaped scar on Medith’s right hand…

…

“Bastard! Damn Pers. I should’ve known—he was always off at the academy. Didn’t expect him to defect outright today!”

“Hmph! That dumb Sprite. When we get back, we’ll report to the Emperor. We’ll list their movements, personnel, forces, abilities—everything.”

They crushed branches underfoot, retracing the envoy’s trampled path, steps crackling like fire in dry brush.

“Awooo…” A low growl crawled out of the grass like cold mist.

“What was that?” Cold sweat burst like rain. They froze, statues in dusk.

Suddenly, in the dim thicket, countless eyes lit red, lanterns in a killing fog. They swallowed hard, and then—screams ripped through the forest, bled thin, and went out. Silence closed like a lid.

Volume VI · An Elegy for the Hyacinth (End)