The Marquis’ Daughter Acts As A Pawn

Unlike regional cities that suffer from oppression and gasp for poverty, the imperial capital of the Diaghilev Empire was showing a buzz.

Those who dwell in the Empire do not cease to care, for example, that under their own prosperity there is the suffering of the same people of Diaghilev.

Whether we hear dark rumors behind the royal family, whether the grain goes up in price more than before, whether the rough travellers walk wide across the empire with our faces… Whether the army attacks neighbouring countries, they pretend not to see it.

If they don't, they shouldn't live.

Last if I show an attitude of defiance of the royal policy.

The clan party, women and children are executed regardless.

Power is everything. Dominance is the peace. The weak are the evil.

That was the norm in this country - the invading nation, the Diaghilev Empire.

At the edge of the palace, one witch was kept in seclusion in an old tower created at random by the previous emperors.

The witch wears a flaky dress and stands without shoes. Braided in one brunette longer than her waist and drooling forward, she lived in silver-gray eyes without glow as if she had given up everything, a look that she could certainly call a witch.

"... poor folk grass. And sinful...... me"

The witch sees the township of the far away imperial capital over a rusty, worn iron lattice.

The city is brighter than usual, even though it's midnight. I questioned the glow as if to hide my anxiety, but the witch was convinced to see the banded light shining in the sky.

"You're on a day when the aurora comes down. When it gets cold, I feel especially much more"

Extreme light (Avrola) is a sign of misfortune and calamity, feared in the Diaghilev Empire.

So people turn on the lights at night when the polar light rises, trying to weaken the light that pours down a little bit.

Black shadows descend on the columns of the windows as they stare at the Empire City without getting tired of being blown by the cold night breeze.

"Good evening, my witch"

What showed up was a young man a little younger than a witch.

He laughs thinly, letting the black cloak swoop in and out of darkness.

"Tonight was the night you were ready for me to steal it?

"... why are you here? There must have been a guard."

"They put it through quickly,"

"You lied"

When the witch stared, he let his shoulders snap so he could play.

"Now, put them on guard with a little more temper. I don't care either. I was wondering if anyone would hurt my precious witch. Duty neglect should be treated as a pay cut."

Over the iron plaid, the young man touches the witch's cheek.

But the witch did not change her complexion one by one, and slapped her hand off with passing.

"Don't touch me, thief."

"I'm not a thief, I'm a thief."

"What difference does it make? Thieves and thieves alike."

When the witch said so, the young man sneered.

"No, I'm not. Thieves only steal for themselves. Thieves always use all means to get everything while handing out happiness to others. More than thieves... very greedy and poor quality"

"... the worst beast ever."

"If I get my eyes on you, all I can say is that you're sad. So come on, take my hand. Neither the guard nor the Omboro iron plaid can be an obstacle to leaving this tower.... like old times."

"Don't tell me what thieving feels like."

Seeing a witch who refused so hard and kept staring, the young man pulled a step from the iron plaid.

"It seems that the Diaghilev Empire has finally plunged the attack on the Kingdom of Rolands. I'm sure you want to be a source of domestic dissatisfaction."

"... yes"

The witch knew about the invasion of the Kingdom of Rolands in the Diagilev Empire because she had been stealing and listening to the conversations of the soldiers on the lookout.

When the young man observes it, he raises the horns of his garlic and mouth.

"Then I wonder if you know this. That man - he's leading a harmony conference. It seems that your parents wrote a provocative text, and the envoy has named the next king, Prince Edward."

"No way... you...!

The witch is grabbed by an iron lattice.

Then the run-down and rusty iron spilled over, and the witch gave a hazy look, away from the iron lattice.

"I thought you'd jump into my chest in a little while. Too bad."

"... what are you going to do"

"I told you, didn't I? If I get my eyes on you, all I can say is sadness."

"... my fault?

Witch eyes that were inorganic shake.

That certainly represented her upset.

"Yes, it's your fault. If you want me to stop, take my hand."

Now the witch reaches out to the youth, but that never exceeded the iron lattice.

"... no. I must fulfill my responsibilities here."

"Even though you're a witch?

"Even witches...... because that is the role of those left behind. My last... desire"

When the witch pulls her hand and puts it against her chest, the young man narrows his eyes and reveals his anger.

"... yes. Then you have no right to stop me. [M] I love you, Avrola. So do what you don't want. [M]... See you later."

"Wait! Don't wait."

The witch tries to scream the name of the young man who jumped from the tower, but it swallowed up at the inch.

I don't have the right to call him by his name.

"... I am truly a sign of misfortune and misfortune."

When she squeals like that, the witch looks up at the polar light that is still shaking.

Her name is Avrola.

The Witch of the Diaghilev Empire with the name of Misfortune and Disaster...