If Fury was the “dark-arts coach,” then Casca was surely the “light-arts coach.” If Fury pointed Nora toward the wickedness in people, Casca was the one tugging Nora’s sleeve from behind to say that what she saw wasn’t the whole truth.
They were like yin and yang—the balance Nora had once read about in the book Zentinel.
These two saw the world from starkly different angles: Fury viewed it as a survivor, while Casca asked, “How do we raise our spirit higher?”
Even Fury himself admitted that, for all his destructive power, he respected leaders with true virtue. He knew they merely wanted peace for the world. They didn’t seek to destroy Diablo. They threatened no one.
The example that proved this to Fury was none other than—
Casca Saint Maximin, his wife.
What happened in the fields of Salawan was proof enough that honor matters: to give your word and keep it earns you respect—even from your enemies.
What Nora had said wasn’t just belittling; it was a contempt for the pure intentions of such people.
“Casca’s like that,” Dan said, comforting the downcast princess.
Getting scolded by a thirty-year-old Gen Y hits different from being scolded by a sixty-year-old Gen X nursemaid.
“…Yes.”
“Come on. I’ll walk you back.”
Forest of Anfield. Dan escorted Nora to the institute gates.
He led the way through the crickets’ chorus that rose and fell in waves. He glanced at Nora now and then, saying nothing until she spoke up.
“Mr.Fury… do you think Lady Casca is too idealistic?”
“Why didn’t you ask her then?”
“…I didn’t know she’d be that strict.”
“Haha—got a taste of the real thing and now you’re sulking, huh?”
“Mr.Fury… when I learned swordplay from her as a child, I still remember Lady Casca as one of the kindest instructors…”
Truth be told, it left Nora a little miffed.
She didn’t agree with everything Casca had said—especially given Nora’s background as a princess constantly at risk of assassination by Snowhaven’s rebels, over and over again.
Being lectured to see the world in a good light ran against Nora’s instincts, forged in a land of slaughter beneath a killing cold.
Nora stopped mid-step and turned slightly.
“Not everyone can be touched… and so they get to see a prettier world.”
Dan stopped and turned back.
“Casca just wants you to respect those who are truly good, that’s all.”
“I don’t know, Mr.Fury… it—”
Nora twirled a finger at her temple, her face saying the whole thing didn’t make sense.
“It’s alright. I understand,” Dan said.
“You just haven’t met people like that yet. I thought the way you do… until I met someone like her.”
“Even if they exist, there aren’t many. Like blue lobsters in the sea.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“True, not many. But maybe not as few as you think.”
“So you have a rosy view of the world too?”
“I just acknowledge they exist. Those people are special to me.”
There were few of them, compared with the beasts Fury faced daily. And almost 99% of such people weren’t in any political power game—but they tended to appear and take responsibility when the wicked left their mess for the world to clean up.
It was an unfairness Fury recognized and once questioned, before he began to understand the world more and more with time.
Casca was that one percent. She had a mission to change LUMINUS—and she was doing it with a will as fierce as his to protect DIABLO.
Dan stepped closer; Nora met his eyes; the young man set his hands on her shoulders.
“Casca accepts that good and evil have to coexist. She doesn’t want you squeaky-clean. She’s only telling you that—if you can avoid it—you should walk the path of honor.”
That was all.
“Just once or twice won’t hurt, Mr.Fury.”
“Are you sure it will stop at once or twice?”
“…”
“Since you’ve gone and set me up as the wager, it’s good you’ll get to do something called safeguarding your own honor.”
“I shouldn’t have done that…”
“But you let your emotions lead. It’s done, Nora. As a ruler, you must take responsibility for your own words.”
“…”
Fury patted her shoulder lightly.
“Come on. We’re nearly at the forest entrance.”
“Mr.Fury… may I say something?”
“What?”
“I will never hand you over to anyone. I promise.”
“Don’t be so serious. At worst, it’s only until we part with Professor McClaff.”
At the edge of the woods, Dan waved to Nora.
“See you in the morning.”
Nora bowed to him, then turned and walked back inside the institute grounds. Dan exhaled softly—when suddenly a figure dropped from the tree’s shadows behind him, landing in a kneel to receive orders.
He was an underground assassin—one of Diablo’s six spies stationed in Artheris.
“Your Highness.”
“Speak.”
“We six have found a site with grounds to suspect it as a Shadow hideout, sire.”
“Where?”
“West of Artheris.”
“Bordering Velmount?”
“Yes, sire.”
“…That sector?”
“Yes, my prince.”
“I understand…”
Dan let out a long breath and closed his eyes.
“How did you trail it from Snowhaven?”
“We detected suspicious activity in a mercenary group shuttling between that sector and Snowhaven, my lord. Few groups do this.”
“Send every detail to ROMA.”
“Yes, my prince.”
“You’ve located those three, yes?”
“We have, sire.”
“From here, the pursuit of those Shadows becomes their job. You and the other six return to your duties.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Go.”
Whoosh.
The assassin sprang upward and vanished.
Dan stood with arms folded in the forest, mind grinding on the matter, until—
New footsteps pressed the ground beside him.
Casca Saint Maximin, his wife.
Her gaze fixed on the spot where the spy had vanished.
“Was that Faigo?”
“You know I can’t say. No matter how much I love you, that’s our line.”
“Just guessing… Something’s up?”
“You heard it, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Then why ask, Dame Knight?”
“Manners of a peeper. Afraid you’d be mad.”
“If I were mad, I wouldn’t have let you listen.”
“That sector—is it the one I think?”
“Exactly what you think… which makes sense.”
“You’re not going to inspect it yourself, are you?”
Dan turned to face Casca, hands on his hips, grinning sheepishly.
“Fury… do not go in that form. You know exactly how dangerous that place is!”
“Or should I bring you along?”
“My light will bleach their shadows away and you’ll gain nothing.”
“I mean I’ll carry you in my pocket. How about that?”
“Tempting. When?”
“Likely after I get back from Snowhaven.”
Casca took out her little, dark-brown pocket notebook.
Strike-through.
“Ooh—what a coincidence. I’m free.”
“Coincidentally struck what out?”
“A class reunion.”
“Having lots of relatives is rough.”
“I was already looking for an excuse to ditch it. Thanks.”
On the Anfield high plain, under a sky where the galaxy spread itself across, Casca and Fury walked together to the sound of the night.
“By the way, haven’t seen that rotten mushroom lately.”
“Why? Miss her?”
“Want to roll down there and sniff the grass?”
“I’m joking.”
“Answer properly. Or else.”
“Freya’s on lab duty and hasn’t been back. And I just assigned her to find a place for Valencia.”
“So you’re alone?”
“And that means we get to be together.”
“Yes! Thank the Lord.”
Dan smiled.
At the summit where Fury once sketched the Anfield landscape, they sat side by side: Casca hugging her knees, he letting his legs dangle. After a while, Casca leaned, leaned… until she dropped her full weight against Dan’s right side.
“I want to take you to meet my mother.”
Casca’s mother was the only family she had left.
“Let’s do it.”
“You said it.”
“But not now.”
“Second year, then?”
“Sounds good.”
“Near the end of year one—learn anything from class, my prince?”
“I like your natural sciences.”
“Lame.”
“What does ‘lame’ mean?”
“Forget it.”
Casca let out a breathy “haa~,” wrapped her arms around him, buried her face, and fell quiet.
“You smell like baby soap.”
“Nora bought it for me. She said it cleans better. Hey—do you think you were too hard on Nora today?”
“Hng.”
“Yeah?”
“You shouldn’t baby that girl so much.”
“How am I babying her?”
“You don’t realize it, but you spoil Nora a lot.”
“Think carefully whether that’s true—or just jealousy.”
“She may be pretty, but I know Nora isn’t what I need to worry about compared to a certain disgusting monster.”
“That disgusting monster is my wife too, you know.”
Thud!
“Ow! Why’d you punch me?!”
Casca didn’t answer. She looked… miffed, her face set in anger.
“Hahaha.”
“What’s funny?”
“Your face. I love it when you’re mad.”
“This face has made entire battalions piss themselves, you rotten lizard.”
“Mmm. I believe it.”
Dan squeezed his wife’s hand.
“But deep down you know I only have you.”
“Mmm. I don’t believe it.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“I’ll do whatever I want, you rotten lizard.”
