Didn't I Say To Make My Abilities Average In The Next Life?! Volume 9

by Funa

  “Posting a recruitment flier for a non-Guild job, right beside the Guild job board, is kind of…”

  Mavis was a bit stunned, but the fact remained that if you hoped to hire hunters as mercenaries, placing your advert here would be the most effective. Furthermore, if the Crown was the one in charge of the posting, the hunters were in no position to refuse. The Guild itself was not involved in formulating the mercenary contracts, so this did not violate the basic tenet that the Guild would not involve itself in waging war.

  Of course, anyone who was a mercenary by trade could officially take on the job through the Mercenaries’ Guild. Until now, the military had not been operating under the expectation of actual combat, so they had not contacted the Mercenaries’ Guild. But this time was different. In addition to reaching out to hunters and mercenaries, recruiters would probably be putting word out to all the thugs and vagabonds in town, considering them disposable fodder to be sent out ahead of the career fighters and conscripted peasant soldiers.

  “No! Leave that one alone!”

  “They’ll chew you up and spit you out before you even get paid!”

  “Folks like you’ll get knocked out before the battle even starts! You’re on a journey, right? Just keep on moving to the next country!”

  All of the hunters currently present shouted words of warning at the Crimson Vow when they saw them looking over the recruitment flier.

  “And anyway,” one hunter called out to them, “this one’s definitely a red mark. Apparently, there’s some things that came up during those previous pushbacks—some things that no one should be gettin’ themselves mixed up in. Talk is that there’s opposition to it within the military, and it seems like the soldiers get punished if they so much as talk about it, but we aren’t bound to that sort of thing. Here and there you hear from the hunters who participated last time, and the various thugs around town, and it doesn’t seem like any upstanding guys are gonna be going in on this one. The only ones takin’ this job are folks with no instinct for danger, guys who are broke and don’t have much other choice, and idiots. This means there ain’t a lot of folks gonna be on this mission aside from the usual soldiers and farmer recruits, which means that you’d definitely be put on the front lines to protect ’em… Anyway, there’s a pretty good chance that ladies like you would be assigned other duties… You aren’t planning on taking the job, are you?”

  “We aren’t!” Reina emphatically denied.

  “That’s good. I guess it doesn’t matter since you aren’t, but soldiers who are willing to go out on the front lines where they’re likely to die are hotheaded folks, and there’s a lot of desperate fellows out there. It’s best you don’t go treading carelessly around folks like that. My recommendation is you get back on the road and leave this country. Or, you take it easy and start headin’ back on home.”

  “Is it really all right that we didn’t take that job?” asked Pauline, master of cunning, as they left the Guild behind and began searching for an inn. “We could have gotten information a lot more easily from within enemy ranks, and it would be an opportunity to stir up some trouble, too…”

  “We can’t,” replied Reina. “If we were hired on a proper contract, we wouldn’t be able to betray our employers. It’s not illegal to hire mercenaries for waging war, but making a formal declaration of war is a political decision that has nothing to do with hired soldiers. If you’re bound by a formal contract, as long as the upper brass doesn’t use their position or status to try and coerce their hires into an illegal act or breach of contract, you can’t betray the ones who hired you on. It sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “Nn…”

  Pauline was not the type to balk at backstabbing or lying if it was for the sake of the greater good, but Reina was inclined to uphold the principles of hunters through and through. It went without saying that Mavis, the aspiring knight, would never approve of any speech or conduct that might prove shameful to her position.

  As for Mile…

  “But Reina, this a case of ‘then is then, and now is now!’”

  “You shut up!”

  At any rate, the possibility of joining up with the enemy forces was rejected.

  “Well, I guess I couldn’t forgive myself if anyone got hurt or killed because of us,” said Mile, while the other three looked back at her, the expression on their faces as good as saying, “That’s exactly what we thought!”

  ***

  “All right, I’m heading out!”

  “Please be careful!”

  “Carelessness is one’s greatest enemy, Mile!”

  “If you find anything valuable, bring it back with you!”

  Nodding at everyone’s words of warning—and one comment with a slightly different intent—Mile set off into the night.

  Despite their good intentions, the fact was that the Crimson Vow had caused a conflict that should have been a few months away to happen almost immediately. Their actions, which had not been ordered by their employers, had led directly to the monster-driving counterassault. The soldiers of this country weren’t necessarily bad people, they were just doing as their superiors ordered. Should the Crimson Vow cross paths with them as enemies, there was no reason to cause them pointless death or injury.

  With all this in mind, the Crimson Vow had decided to try and stop the next monster drive before it even began—in such a way that the outcome would persist even beyond the current venture.

  The fact that the current campaign was not a simple monster-repelling drive like before, but a legitimate military operation that concerned the national border, had yet to be made public. Thus, the Crimson Vow still believed that it was nothing more than another expedition of the first type. They all knew that military operations took time, both in preparation and actual execution. If the Crown was recruiting hunters and mercenaries, then it would probably be a little while before they began trying to enact any plan. Assuming this, the girls saw no real reason to hurry, other than getting something bothersome out of the way as quickly as possible—and saving the farmers from getting conscripted for no real purpose.

  “All right. This looks like the palace.”

  One could make a pretty good guess at where a royal palace was located, based solely on where the most important people seemed to be and the general architecture of the buildings. Plus, one might fairly assume that the palace was usually the building that was the most heavily guarded.

  In other words…

  “Good evening!”

  “Wh-who are you?! Guards! What are you louts doing?!”

  Surprisingly, the king was still awake, poring over some sort of documents by lamplight while the rest of the palace—save for the guards on night-shift—slept. The king called out for assistance, but Mile had already activated a sound and motion barrier, which meant that his voice did not reach the guards standing just outside the room.

  “Uh… Huh…?”

  So as not to frighten him too much, Mile dropped her optical camouflage. Looking upon her, the king was lost for words.

  One couldn’t blame him, really. Not when Mile looked the way that she did at the moment…

  She was dressed all in white, in an elegant garment that resembled an Ionic chiton, the likes of which might be worn by a Greek goddess. At first glance, it appeared to be a complex outfit, but in truth, it was the typical garb of an ancient Grecian, a leisurely garment of simple make, constructed from only one rectangular piece of cloth, not cut or stitched anywhere. Of course, that meant it was incredibly easy to make.

  When worn by married women, the garment came down to the ankles, with shorter hems being customary for men, children, and soldiers. In order to make it easy for her to move, Mile’s was incredibly short, which made her look more like a child than a married woman.

  The familiar ice crystal wings sprouted from her back, and above her head floated a ring of ice. She had no idea if all gods and angels in this world sported halos but was personally firm in her belief that a deity simply
must have one. Combined with a magical (read: nanomachine-enacted) sparkling light effect and dancing ice crystals, her “Visibiel–Mk. II” disguise was complete.

  She had decided to forego wearing any weird masks on this occasion. It would be unnatural for a goddess to be wearing such a thing. Speaking of unnatural things, there was one part of her outfit that was slightly more unnatural than any mask…

  Namely, her chest.

  As it happened, Visibiel–Mk. II sported an unnaturally prominent bust, giving her an hourglass figure…or at least an obviously faked one.

  The enhancement was clearly artificial and in strange imbalance with her short stature, so the fact that she was wearing such a flimsy garment, which left nothing to the imagination, gave her an even more surreal vibe.

  But Mile was happy with it—which was all that really mattered, wasn’t it?

  Even without a mask, she had at least disguised herself a little by changing her hair and eye color to a golden hue, to ward against trouble in case they should meet again or she should be sought after. Since photography had not been invented, it was unthinkable that the king would be able to reproduce her exact likeness. As long as she changed her hair and eye color, which would be the foundational traits of any search, she should be fine. This was the conclusion reached by Mile’s little ashen cells.

  (Incidentally, I’ve heard that “little ashen cells,” as it’s phrased in Japanese, might be something of a mistranslation.

  As I recall it, the original English phrase was “little grey cells,” with the “grey cells” referring to brain cells, or the grey matter that makes up one’s brain, the implied meaning that the individual in question was unusually intelligent. The diminutive involved in referring to one’s incredibly sharp mind as “little” denotes modesty—so to append “ashen” doubles down on that meaning… Then again, it’s possible that they changed it on purpose, as a literary expression, fully aware of the implication. It sounds prettier that way in Japanese and actually pretty cool! Translators sure are formidable!!!)

  As always, Mile’s “little ashen cells” were occupied with something entirely unrelated to the task at hand.

  “D-don’t tell me… Impossible! You’re that sham?! You can’t fool me!” the king shouted desperately.

  The “sham,” however, grinned and replied, “Hm? Sham or no, I’ve not said a word or even introduced myself, have I? So what right do you have to make such accusations? I am nothing more than what you see before you right now. Just someone who was able to slip into the innermost sanctum of the palace without any of your guards noticing, who snuck up behind you without your knowing of my presence until I raised my voice, and who can slip away again with no one the wiser…”

  The king began to look queasy. The only possible conclusion one could draw from her words was that she could assassinate him whenever she pleased. Slowly, he slipped his right hand beneath his desk to the knife holder affixed there in case of an emergency…

  Ka-shnk!

  Without hesitation, the king flung two throwing knives in quick succession. He had prepared and practiced for just such an occasion. He had many enemies, after all, and his life depended on this maneuver. The two knives struck their target perfectly, lodging right in the suspicious creature’s chest.

  “Gotcha! Hahaha—you fool! Did you think that a king would have no taste for the art of combat? That I wouldn’t be prepared for this sort of attack, for an assassination—”

  Halfway through the king’s haughty proclamation, he froze, a look of disbelief spreading across his face.

  “I am nothing more than a beautiful girl…er, what?”

  It was rather awkward for Mile to refer to herself as “beautiful,” but then, there were many who proclaimed the same of themselves back in Japan. Soldiers in sailor suits, masked girls, and the like…

  Regardless, as Mile lowered her gaze, she saw the two knives protruding…from her own chest.

  “Gahh! You put holes in the outfit Pauline made just for me! Now you’ve done it! You’ve really done iiiiiit!!! This might’ve been handmade, but cloth doesn’t come free! Why would you do this to meeee?!?!”

  Of course, delivering this speech was entirely out of keeping with her goddess charade, but in her rage, she forgot her pretense. Luckily, the king was already shaken enough to completely ignore her strange wording. You see, the knives had only pierced her thick paddi—er, clothing. Indeed, even without the paddi—er, thick backing of her clothing—it was unlikely that a knife thrown by a normal person could have pierced Mile’s body.

  As compensation for her damaged clothes—and because his knives appeared relatively valuable—Mile stored them away magically, without even moving her hands.

  “Wh…?”

  It was about now that the king finally recognized the reality of the situation: the creature that stood before him was definitely not any normal little girl.

  “Be warned—actually, as it happens, I already warned you! What became of the commander to whom I entrusted my message?”

  “Uh… Well, he was stripped of his command and jailed for shirking responsibility, making reckless remarks without proof, and lowering the morale of the troops.”

  For some reason, the king seemed compelled to answer her with perfect honesty. This was, of course, more or less the outcome that Pauline and Mavis had imagined. Things seemed to have become rather unpleasant for the commander, so Mile felt obligated to help out a bit.

  “You will release him from prison. If you require proof of my powers, I shall provide you with it now. Shall I blow this entire palace down? Or would you like me to reduce this country to a smoldering ruin?”

  Naturally, this was only a bluff, but the king went white as a sheet, shivering. The fact that his teeth were not chattering was the last mark of his pride.

  Mile’s work was already done. There was no need to give him the full warning all over again. The commander would be released first thing in the morning, at which point, he could deliver the message himself. The king might be wondering just who Mile was, but that did not matter. As long as she was someone who might snuff his life out at any time, at the slightest offense or irritation, that would be sufficient.

  “Now then, I shall be taking my leave for tonight. Ah—but I will be making a slight detour. Let’s make it so that I don’t have to come back here again. At the very least, there absolutely will not be a third time.”

  Hearing this, the king was unable to form words.

  There absolutely would not be a third time. There was no other way to interpret this except that any second time would mean the end of his life.

  “Good night…”

  “Huh?”

  With that simple utterance, the king lost consciousness where he sat.

  Mile had intended to use sleep magic, but she had no idea what method the nanomachines employed. Perhaps they had generated some kind of sleeping gas, or done something to his nervous system, or affected his brain directly… Mile never worried over the little details like that.

  She had put him to sleep so that there was no danger of him kicking up a fuss the moment she vanished from sight. Even if she was invisible, too much hubbub would make her retreat much harder, and Mile still had a few things to take care of before she left.

  “But wait! At this rate, there’s a chance he might think that it was all just a dream… Umm, what should I do?”

  After thinking for a moment or two, Mile carried the king to his bed. Then, she withdrew from her inventory a cheap sword that she had previously taken from a bandit.

  Ka-shnk!

  She plunged the blade into the pillow, right beside his face.

  “This should keep him from thinking it was just a dream! Now then, I’ll just put up my optical camouflage, and…”

  For the next few minutes, Mile went around plunging swords into the pillows of every royal and high-ranking noble who lived within the palace. She realized it would be a waste to do this with swords that she could us
e herself in the future, so for everyone who was not the king, she used the nobles’ own swords, which she found within their chambers.

  Then, after making her rounds in the palace, she traveled to the residences of all the upper-ranking nobles—most of whom were employed as cabinet ministers or military officials—which stood around the palace. Mile was nothing if not thorough.

  “Hm?”

  In the bedroom of one noble’s home, Mile found a certain book placed atop the bedside table.

  “This is one of mine! I have readers even here? What a blessing! I should probably move it away from where I put the sword in… Wait, huh?”

  There was something a bit off about this book. Mile picked it up and took a closer look, to see…

  “From Orface Publishing, a book by Niyama Sattodel? This is a bootleg!!!”

  What good fortune that she had cloaked herself not only in an optic but also in a sound barrier…

  Mile opened up the cover and read a little bit.

  “The main character’s social rank, age, family structure, circumstances, the academy setting, and their part-time job are all exactly the same! They left the story pretty much exactly as it was—and they forced in a bunch of dirty jokes. The extra insert illustrations are all super pervy! And this version seems to be selling?!”

  When Mile left that room behind, she left behind twelve swords stabbed into the bed, and something that might once have been a book torn to shreds on the floor.

  It seemed that she had taken offense.

  “I’m back! Er, huh?”

  When Mile returned to the room, everyone was already fast asleep.

  “Didn’t you say that it would be shameful if you all were asleep when I got back? What’s going on here?!?! I was so moved that you were going to wait up for me!!!”

  “Mile, be quiet!” three voices shouted.

  “Grrrgh…”

  The last time she had gone out, she’d returned just a little bit after the second evening bell (about 9 PM), but this time it was midnight. The others could not help having fallen asleep. But even realizing this, Mile could not accept it…