"It would be wonderful if there were no wars." Haruze could not help murmuring. Golden light hung down from the heavens, quietly reflected in his silver eyes. Though the Little Prince did not know what it was, he instinctively felt that it might have something to do with his teacher. "Miss Leisimeca, the Black Moon has shattered. What does this omen mean?"
Medusa seemed lost in her own thoughts and did not respond for a moment.
She gazed across the wasteland. The black earth seemed to symbolize the absence of all human life. Beyond the hills, all she could see were stretches of abandoned farmland. A windmill stood alone atop a distant hill, silhouetted against the flames soaring over the Bear Lake Region. Its blades had long since rotted away, leaving only a bare frame, half dismantled by someone—or something.
It was hard to believe that this had once been one of the Empire's most fertile and prosperous regions. It had supported the food consumption of Cloak Bay and the area around Anzeruta. Now, however, the roads connecting the various places had long since been cut off, while commerce and trade had already ground to a halt.
No one knew what kind of famine would strike the Empire this year.
Leisimeca could not help thinking of her homeland. To the subterranean people, its beauty had been in no way inferior to this place, but now it had been utterly destroyed.
"Miss Leisimeca?"
"Hm?"
"What is wrong?" Haruze asked in confusion as he looked at her. He had never seen Medusa so absentminded before.
"Sorry." Leisimeca suddenly came to her senses. Pressing a hand against the scales on her forehead, she said, "I was distracted."
"What were you thinking about?" Haruze asked.
"I was thinking about those Dark Elves."
Leisimeca lied.