A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Pulchritudo]

Robert found himself wondering if Mikoto simply had a habit of finding joy in the most unexpected things.

"Hm, coming to this city was worth it after all," Mikoto hummed quietly to himself, sounding genuinely content for once. His dainty hands slipped into the pockets of his trousers as he walked beside Robert through the crowded streets of Pulchritudo.

Robert let out a weary sigh.

"I would certainly hope this visit was worth it," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Considering you managed to spend every last bit of Eor we had on sweets, I’d be rather disappointed if it wasn’t." His emerald eyes drifted toward the battered makeshift bow slung over his shoulder. The rough wood was beginning to splinter around the grip, and the string had clearly seen better days. "Truth be told, I was still hoping I’d finally be able to replace this thing with an actual bow."

Mikoto glanced sideways at him before giving a quiet snort.

"You seriously expect me to buy it for you?" he asked. "I ain’t your sugar mama."

Robert frowned.

"...My what?"

The unfamiliar phrase genuinely puzzled him.

Mikoto waved the question away without even looking at him.

"Forget it. Doesn’t matter."

Robert stared another second before exhaling through his nose.

"Somehow I figured that’s all the explanation I was getting."

He abandoned the subject. Experience had already taught him that once Mikoto decided a conversation was over, prying only made him more stubborn.

Instead, Robert allowed his attention to wander across the city surrounding them.

Pulchritudo truly was unlike anywhere he had ever seen.

The streets stretched wide enough for crowds to move without pressing shoulder to shoulder. Towering black buildings rose proudly toward the dim skies, their stone broken up by vibrant storefronts painted in rich colors that refused to fade under the perpetually gloomy sky. Decorative lamps lined perfect roads, gardens were carefully maintained between districts, and bridges connected sections of the city.

For a world where sunlight rarely broke through the skies, civilization of this scale almost felt impossible. It looked permanent and secure, as though even nature would struggle to reclaim it.

Robert doubted even a hurricane could bring Pulchritudo to its knees.

As they continued walking, another enormous statue came into view.

It depicted the Queen once more.

Unlike the previous monuments they had passed, this one stood in the center of a broad park filled with trimmed green grass, pathways, carefully sculpted hedges, and rows of benches where wealthy citizens leisurely conversed beneath decorative trees.

The monument towered over everything nearby; its craftsmanship was flawless and the posture regal. To countless citizens, it was a symbol of gratitude. A reminder of the ruler who had given them prosperity.

Robert merely looked at it in silence.

("A Queen who strips every land she conquers of its identity, then rebuilds it in her own image.")

His emerald eyes slowly shifted away from the monument; they settled upon the people instead. A bear-eared demi-human carrying crates far heavier than any ordinary laborer should have been expected to lift. A cat-eared young woman quietly sweeping the entrance to an expensive shop while richly dressed patrons walked past without sparing her so much as a glance. Another demi-human kneeling to polish the boots of a laughing nobleman.

None protested, none even looked surprised.

("Those who fit neatly into her ideals prosper...") His expression gradually darkened. ("...and everyone else simply learns their place.") His jaw tightened. ("For someone like her, ruling a broken world like this must be painfully easy.")

"Does this city actually pain you that much," Mikoto suddenly asked from beside him, "or are you just planning to spend the whole day glaring at buildings and random strangers?"

Robert blinked.

He hadn’t realized his thoughts had become so visible. Turning slightly, he met Mikoto’s red eyes.

The beautiful boy looked almost amused.

Robert released a quiet breath.

"Well..." he offered a small shrug. "There was a reason I tried to rebel against the Heart Kingdom in the first place."

His eyes wandered back across the immense city.

"I knew it was powerful. I knew it had resources. But standing here..." He slowly shook his head. "It never felt this overwhelming before. Pulchritudo is larger than anything I imagined. Better defended, supplied, and organized." A small, humorless smile crossed his face. "And that’s the unsettling part." He paused briefly. "This is only one city."

Mikoto listened without interruption, then he spoke with the same blunt tone he always carried.

"It was small."

Robert frowned as Mikoto continued.

"Your rebellion, I mean. Tiny." He spoke almost lazily, as though discussing the mundane. "Especially when you were so weak." His red eyes drifted ahead. "You and that old geezer Gerard..." He clicked his tongue. "I really don’t understand why worms insist on throwing themselves against mountains they can’t possibly climb. Sounds exhausting."

There wasn’t even mockery in his voice; it was complete honesty. Oddly enough, that made the words sting even more.

Robert let out a slow breath through his nose.

"Right..." he answered flatly. "Forgive me for not possessing whatever absurd, godlike strength you happen to have lying around."

His reply was dry, but not angry. Yet as the words left his mouth, another thought quietly surfaced in the back of his mind. One he found himself unable to dismiss.

"But for someone like you," Robert said after a thoughtful silence, his voice quieter, "rebellion must seem like a rather simple thing."

Mikoto didn’t answer immediately.

His eyes remained fixed ahead as the two continued weaving through the bustling streets of Pulchritudo.

Only after several moments did he finally speak.

"It’s not simple," he corrected evenly. "It’s insignificant."

There wasn’t a hint of arrogance in the way he said it; it sounded like a statement of plain fact.

Robert glanced sideways at him.

"That sounds rather harsh when you put it like that."

Mikoto merely shrugged.

"It’s just the truth."

His hands remained tucked lazily inside his pockets.

"You’ve got to understand the difference in perspective." His gaze remained forward, and his tone stayed the same; it was almost conversational. "Think about it like this, for something like me..." He paused briefly, searching for words. "...something like you barely even registers."

His expression never changed.

"And that isn’t aimed at you personally," he continued before Robert could respond. "It’s the same for almost every ordinary person. They’re small."

He looked down at one of his own hands for a moment before slipping it back into his pocket.

"If I actually wanted to do anything I wanted..." His shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. "...then I’d just do it."

Robert felt an uncomfortable silence settle between them. If almost anyone else had uttered those words, he would’ve dismissed them as empty pride. The sort of delusion common among overconfident warriors.

But Mikoto wasn’t boasting; he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. If anything, he sounded strangely detached from the statement. As though he weren’t glorifying his strength, only acknowledging it.

That somehow made the words considerably more severe.

Then...

Mikoto blinked.

"Wait", he frowned faintly. "No, that’s not actually right."

Robert looked over in surprise.

Mikoto shook his head to himself, his snow-white bun shifting lightly with the movement. The brief look of confusion sitting on his soft features was oddly endearing, almost childlike, as though he’d caught himself making a mistake halfway through explaining something.

"I can’t do everything." He frowned a little deeper. "I can do... really big stuff, though." He nodded once afterwards, apparently much happier with that correction. "...Yeah. That sounds more accurate."

Robert simply stared.

"..."

Had...

Had Mikoto just corrected himself?

Voluntarily?

Robert honestly wasn’t sure whether he was more surprised by the correction itself or by the fact that Mikoto seemed genuinely bothered by his own exaggeration.

The white-haired boy, meanwhile, looked faintly annoyed with himself. Almost as though saying something inaccurate irritated him far more than saying something unbelievably arrogant.

"...I..." Robert opened his mouth before closing it again. "...Right."

For a brief moment he genuinely questioned whether he’d imagined the entire exchange. Deciding it wasn’t worth untangling whatever strange logic Mikoto’s mind operated under, he simply returned to the original discussion.

"So, if you genuinely wanted to rebel against the Heart Kingdom..." Robert said carefully. "It really would be that easy for you?"

Mikoto answered without hesitation.

"Yeah." His voice remained completely matter-of-fact. "I could wipe out every army they’ve got." He spoke with casualness. "I could kill the Queen too."

Another few steps carried them forward before he quietly added,

"But we both know that wouldn’t actually solve anything."

Robert’s expression softened slightly; for all Mikoto’s overwhelming strength, he understood that much. Destroying armies wasn’t the same as changing people. Killing a ruler wasn’t the same as erasing an idea.

There would still be another army.

Another noble.

Another queen.

Another person willing to replace the last.

Violence could tear down a kingdom; it couldn’t decide what came afterwards.

"I... suppose not," Robert murmured quietly.

His emerald eyes drifted ahead.

Without either of them consciously realising it, their conversation had carried them all the way back. The familiar church stood before them once more. Its aged stone walls looked no less weary than they had earlier. Its weathered gates remained open.

Robert’s gaze lingered on the heavy wooden doors.

("So, he really did come back.") He couldn’t help the small realisation. ("For all his talk this became the priority.")

The church.

Before he could dwell on the thought any longer—

CRASH!

A deafening explosion of splintering wood shattered the silence. One of the church’s enormous front doors tore clean from its hinges. The heavy timber spun violently through the air, fragments of broken wood scattering in every direction.

And with it a human body.

Someone had been hurled through the entrance with enough force to send them crashing out alongside the ruined door. The figure struck the stone ground outside hard, momentum carrying them several more feet before finally coming to a stop.

The lively conversations filling the nearby streets died almost instantly. Heads turned towards the church as shocked silence spread through the square.

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