Dread mounted inside Broomstick. Kichona was being transformed into a war machine, and at a horrifying pace. Spirit had been very wrong that the ryuu would still be picking up the pieces from their battle. Instead, the Dragon Prince had already issued decrees seizing everything that defined the kingdom—the tiger pearls; the happy, colorful tunics and dresses worn by the people; the bountiful orchards full of yuzu; and the nets full of shrimp and fish. And that wasn’t even touching upon what he could eventually do to the minds of the citizens themselves. He would probably conscript them for the army, to support the ryuu.

“The speed that we’re getting ready for war is, uh, exciting,” Broomstick said through gritted teeth. “How long is this war supposed to take? And how do we know when we do enough to bring paradise on earth?”

Because that was the point of it all. The Evermore—a promise of transforming Kichona into a utopia and giving all Kichonans eternal life to enjoy there. The only problem was that hundreds of thousands—probably more—would have to die before Kichona achieved the goal.

“We’ll be granted the Evermore when Emperor Gin delivers the hearts of all seven monarchs to Zomuri,” Crossbow said matter-of-factly.

Broomstick paled as he ran through the countries and their rulers.

High King Erickson of Shinowana

Ria Kayla of Brin

Emperor Geoffrey Stafford of Caldan

Queen Meredith of Fale Po Tair

Tsarina Austine of Thoma

Empress Vivíana of Xerlinis

Queen Everleigh of Vyratta

How long would it take to win against all of them? To conquer their kingdoms, capture the monarchs, and murder each one? It would be decades of bloodshed.

On top of that, the start of war against the mainland meant the other kingdoms would band together to fight back against Kichona. Like Sora had said, they wouldn’t stay overseas either. They would come here, and everything Broomstick had ever known would be destroyed. Cities and villages torched. Innocent people—like his parents, brothers, and sisters at home—would be taken prisoner, beaten, and killed. Kichona’s beautiful, peaceful way of life trampled in the mud and rotted by death.

Moss reached over to grab a report on increased output goals for mining iron ore. His actions were, again, that horribly bizarre mind control where Broomstick’s old friends seemed completely normal except for their unflinching lack of morality and their dedication to the Dragon Prince’s war. Broomstick, on the other hand, could hardly breathe, let alone read the papers in his hands.

If he, Fairy, Spirit, and Wolf couldn’t assassinate Prince Gin, Kichona would cease to be Kichona.

Chapter Seven