In a smoke-filled national assembly hall, politicians from all walks of life argued fiercely.
At the heart of the debate was a legend they had acquired from the old northern empire at enormous expense: a centaur warrior known as the "White Evil Spirit."
The United States across the ocean had heard of her and offered a staggering 1.4 billion. It was no small sum for a nation caught in the grinding wheels of war, but the centaur's strategic value was beyond measure. No one could make up their mind.
Meanwhile, the centaur known as the "Evil Spirit" was far removed from all the commotion.
She quietly followed behind an elegant woman and her husband, who wore a crisp military uniform. A curious little girl bounced along beside them as they made their way through the bustling market.
The girl looked up, eyes shining. "Mom, can I ride her?"
The noblewoman gently but firmly shook her head. "Dear, she's a centaur from the old empire. Only someone she approves of, or her future partner, can have that honor." Then she gave the centaur an apologetic smile.
The White Evil Spirit's eyes flickered, but she felt nothing at all. It didn't matter. As long as they stopped making her fight for her life on the battlefield, they could ride her as long as they liked!
After they had wandered around for a while longer, the officer husband, who had been silent until then, stopped. His deep gaze settled on the centaur. "What do you think of this country?"
The centaur did not answer, and he did not press her. He simply stepped in front of her, took her only remaining hand, her calloused right one, and bowed slightly in a manner almost like an ancient knight.
"Miss Evil Spirit, will you fight for the future of this new empire?"
