Note: This epilogue follows directly after Epilogue 2.
"Oh, Remi-sama… Why did you have to pass on?"
"She was still so young. How could this happen…"
Winter, two years after the end of World War.
I had come to the Sabbath's capital, Josegrad, to attend Remi's state funeral.
"May the name of Remi Ulyakov be engraved in the annals of the Sabbath for all eternity. The great woman who brought peace to the Sabbath after it was ravaged by the Witch of the Trenches, Sylph Nova."
The city was overflowing with those mourning Remi's death.
She truly was dearly loved. I even heard some who took their own lives to follow after her.
"…"
Breathing out a white cloud of breath, I walked down the main street of Josegrad as powdery snow fell.
I had been introduced to a certain store by Sylph's former fiancée, whom I met at the state funeral.
Vestige of Glory, Atgórlaski Slávi.
It was a bar run by the Sabbath's Veterans' Association, catering exclusively to former soldiers.
After the war, soldiers longed to drink while reminiscing about their glory days. As a result, veteran-only bars like this had opened all over the world.
This wasn't because war itself had been enjoyable. There were many who wanted to sort through their feelings, to tell someone about the comrades they had lost.
***
"Pardon me."
I found the place without trouble. It is an old wooden building, but many customers were passing through even during the day.
"Hey there, miss. This place is for soldiers only. Did you know that before coming in?"
"No worries. I'm a former soldier."
"Really? Then take a seat."
That was how I was greeted upon entering. Once I explained I was a soldier, I was shown to a seat.
…Though strictly speaking, I'm a former Austin soldier who fought for the Sabbatian former government forces, not a Sabbatian soldier.
"Is the owner, Mr. Marcotta, here?"
"I'm Marcotta."
"I see. It's an honor to meet you."
I said a quick word to the waiter and took a seat at the counter.
The one I was looking for, Mr. Marcotta, was the very person who guided me in.
"What'll you have?"
"Clear Vok and some mineral water."
"You're not telling me you're going to dilute it right from the start, are you?"
"That's right."
Once seated, it's only polite to order.
When I asked for Vok and water so that I wouldn't get too drunk, he gave me a puzzled look.
"I had a hunch, but… are you from Austin?"
"Yes, I am. Did my accent give me away?"
"No. Anyone who dilutes Vok sure as hell isn't Sabbatian."
"Fair enough."
Just ordering water was enough to give me away as an Austinian. The drinking culture in this country is as intense as ever.
"Ah? An Aust coming into this place?! Think you're welcome here?!"
"What's this? It's just a brat! Want me to bash your face in?!"
Jeers flew from all around the moment my origins became known.
While we're supposed to be allies, it appears we're still rather disliked.
"Hey, you guys, quiet down. Aust or not, anyone who pays is a customer. I won't tolerate any trouble."
"But, Marcotta—"
"More importantly, what is it? You've got business with me, don't you?"
"Yes."
Just as I was wondering what I'd do if a fight broke out, Mr. Marcotta stepped in to help.
At my age, I really don't want to get beaten to a pulp.
"I'd like you to tell me where the Witch of the Trenches, Sylph Nova, is buried."
"…Ah?"
As I sipped my diluted Vok, I asked the shop owner what I came here to find out.
Just where is the body of the Most Foolish Commander in History buried?
"You know, don't you, Mr. Marcotta? I heard you were involved in the burial."
"And why should I tell that to you?"
"In return, I'll tell you about Sylph's final moments."
Currently, where Sylph was buried has not been made public. It was Remi who ordered that neither the method nor the location be disclosed.
"How do you know about Sylph Nova's final moments?"
"Because I was standing right in front of her when she died."
"Why are you so eager to find Sylph's grave?"
"I just felt like venting every last grievance I could think of."
The reason for that was to prevent Sylph's grave from becoming a "holy site."
There were still people, members of the former government forces, who had followed Sylph to the very end and continued to deify her.
To them, Sylph's grave could easily have become sacred ground.
In the Sabbath, undesirable figures were traditionally dealt with in a way that left no traces behind.
"Aren't you interested in Sylph's final moments?"
"That's assuming you're telling the truth."
"You'll have to take me at my word on that."
"…That's true."
Still, if he doesn't tell me, there's nothing really I can do.
If possible, I had wanted to visit Sylph's grave at least once. As both a sworn enemy and as a friend.
"I'm Captain Marcotta. I fought in the Sabbatian Army for over ten years. A former ace."
"Yes, I've heard of your exploits."
"As I ran through the trenches, I gunned down more Austs than I can count."
After seriously listening to my question, Mr. Marcotta suddenly began recounting his own history.
"I just kept stacking up Aust corpses. They even called me Dual Lance of the Twin Spears. I was hot shit back then."
"…I see."
"That's why, I can tell."
What's this about all of a sudden? Had he decided to brag about his achievements from the war to an Aust?
Thinking along those lines, I casually nodded along.
"You were also an ace. Isn't that right, miss?"
"…Hmm."
"An ace who piled up Sabbatians bodies and killed plenty of our compatriots. That's the feeling I get."
As he said this, Mr. Marcotta shot me a sharp glare. I could feel a faint hostility in his eyes.
"Hey now, Marcotta. You seriously think this runt was an Aust ace?"
"Hahaha! Well? How about it, kid? Were you an ace?"
"I must deny that."
"Yeah, thought so!"
I had the distinct feeling I'd be killed if I admitted it, so I laughed and denied it.
Even so, Mr. Marcotta kept glaring at me suspiciously without saying a word.
…I suppose I should explain just in case.
"I mainly fought on the front lines after the war with Flamel and Aerys began. During the East-West War, I was a medic and wasn't even allowed to hold a gun."
"Hm."
"The bodies I piled up were mostly those of the Allied forces. Does that satisfy you?"
"Hmm…"
In fact, it was only after the Battle of Argalia that I became an infantry commander.
I did take part in combat before that, but as a low-ranking soldier.
"I see. So you won't deny being an ace outright."
"I can't really control what others call me."
"Don't sell yourself short. Still… given your age, it makes sense you barely fought in the East–West War."
I only fought against the Sabbath for a single year, under Platoon Leader Garback.
Back then, I wasn't an ace at all, just a rookie who wasn't even trusted with a rifle.
"Alright. I believe you. Now, tell me. How did that detestable witch meet her end?"
"Yes."
Mr. Marcotta seemed convinced by my explanation.
"Hey, Marcotta, are you serious? This brat was really an ace?"
"Yeah. At the very least, my instincts say so."
While the other customers looked doubtful of my past, Mr. Marcotta alone seemed certain.
…Perhaps it was his keen intuition that allowed him to survive the war.
"Then, if you'll allow me to begin."
"I'm listening."
And so, under the gaze of everyone in the bar, I began to recount the final moments of the most hated woman in the Sabbath.
***
Sylph's final moments ended with her committing suicide.
Realizing there was no chance of victory, she smiled as she shot herself in the head.
That was how I concluded the story of her death.
"Josegrad really hasn't changed."
I withheld the true intent behind her actions: her betrayal of the Allied forces and Bern's malice.
Sylph willingly chose to become The Most Foolish Commander in History so that the Sabbath might know peace.
I had no intention of letting my small, personal sentiment trample over the peace she had achieved.
"The building has been repaired, but the snow-covered scenery remains the same."
The reactions of the customers who heard about Sylph's final moments were varied.
Some complained they had wanted her to suffer more, asking why she had the time to kill herself.
Others scoffed, saying there was no way she'd died smiling.
"Sylph… There are so many grudges I want to hurl at you."
But Mr. Marcotta testified that it matched the condition in which he had seen her body.
…No doubt, the Sylph he saw truly was smiling.
"Why did you kill Rodri? Why did you stay with the government forces? Why did you cooperate with the Allied forces at all? If just even one thing had turned out differently, there might have been a future where we could have walked side-by-side."
It had been about five years since the Sabbatian Revolution, when I fought under the command of Sylph Nova.
Those hellish battles, directed by the genius strategist Sylph Nova, are burned into my memory.
"If only you had never been born. There wasn't a single day after I joined the war that I didn't think that."
Josegrad's main street had been littered with the corpses of civilians.
If you kicked the snow, you'd stumble over a corpse. Step on it, and you'd slip on the blood and fat.
I never want to experience something like that again.
"But Sylph, the Sabbath you loved has been rebuilt this beautifully."
Standing on the banks of the frozen Volga River, the river that runs north to south through Josegrad. I spoke as if I were chatting with an old friend.
"The war is over. The day has finally come when people can live smiling, without fearing bullets."
The Volga River is the lifeline of Josegrad's citizens.
The freshwater fish that live there are popular as food, and people even enjoy skating on the wider stretches of the river.
"Here is the view you had always, always wanted to see."
My sworn enemy, and the greatest foe I ever faced: the girl named Sylph Nova.
According to Mr. Marcotta, her body was handed over to the Sabbath and cremated immediately.
Her ashes were then scattered into the Volga River, which then spread throughout Josegrad.
"Sylph, can you see it properly too?"
Remi must have hated Sylph deeply.
According to the Sabbath's general view of life and death, a person is said to reach heaven only after being buried.
In other words, not burying the dead and instead scattering their ashes into a river was an especially severe punishment.
It was proof of just how thoroughly Sylph was despised.
"Sylph… If I had met you after the war, what kind of relationship might we have had?"
And yet, I can't help but think this as well.
I think that if it were Sylph, she would laugh and say, 'I couldn't ask for anything more,' even if her ashes were scattered into the river.
She loved the Sabbath so much that she was willing to give up her life for it.
To let her burnt-out body rest in the land of the country she loved…
Sylph would surely have preferred that over being carefully buried in Austin.
"It's strange. Back then, you were someone I wanted to kill more than anyone else."
A thin layer of ice has formed on the river, and powdery snow is melting into the water.
Surely, on the riverbed, her ashes are resting.
"Now that you're gone, I can't help wanting to see you one more time."
Thinking of her, whose fierce, unforgettable life I will never witness again…
I quietly offered a moment of silence.