Princess of the Empire (JNC Edition)

by Hiroyuki Morioka

  “You must have noticed by now, Jinto, that sometimes your ‘jokes’ irritate more than they amuse.”

  “Yeah, but then I forget soon after. It’s an issue.”

  Lafier brought a sleeve to her nose and took a whiff. Her face contorted. “I suppose your remarks have a kernel of truth.”

  To that, Jinto knew to be cautious and keep his mouth shut.

  “On the other hand, I can’t say you’re particularly pristine, either.”

  “Guess not, huh. But I bet if you searched the Empire, you could turn up a couple or more heirs to countdoms stinkier than me right now. There are way more of us out there than there are royal princesses.”

  Lafier opened her mouth to retort, but the Flight Control officer on screen cut in.

  “Pier resupply approved, Goslauth connecting vessel. All clear. Please make your way to the pier immedi—”

  The officer paused halfway. She, too, now squinted, questioningly. Suddenly, she opened her eyes wide, and murmurred: “Fïac Lartnér (Royal Princess)...”

  It seemed the identity of the steerer before her had her in shock. Deeply, she bowed her head.

  Guess they know of Lafier even all the way out here, thought Jinto. I must look like a big goof by comparison.

  “Are we still cleared to enter the pier?” pressed Lafier.

  “Yes, of course, by all means. You may proceed. Yes.”

  Guided by the information entered by the clearly nervous controller, the vessel drew nearer to the Baron’s estate.

  “Febdash Flight Control Center, there’s something I must apprise you of...” During their approach, Lafier summarized the intrusion of what was all too likely an enemy fleet into Empire territory.

  “That’s...” But the officer was at a loss for words. It took her a brief spell to pull herself back together: “I must relay this to far simh (FAR SEEF, my noble).”

  “Of course; please do so.”

  The scenery tinged by the star Febdash’s blue flames, the Baron’s estate’s details came into sharp relief.

  Many older orbital estates were shaped like rings in order to simulate gravity through constant rotation. That style of architecture, however, couldn’t get around how the levels of “gravity” and rotational speed varied by stratum. Due to that, the more recent orbital estates — which is to say, those of the past 300 years — were, as a rule, equipped with their own gravity control systems. They came with equipment installation and maintenance costs, but they were generally worth it for the higher quality of life.

  This estate was the type that had a gravity control system. It was shaped like an inclined hexagon. Its long arm propped up a cubical structure, which was the spaceport. Because it stored the antimatter fuel for paunh (POHNYUH, transport ships), the spaceport was usually installed at a comfortable distance from the estate’s main structure. In addition to the prow portion of a giant casobiac bendér (CAHSOHBEEA BENDEHR, hydrogen carrier), a number of small intra-system spaceships were docked at the pier like a bunch of gnats.

  The artificial gravity enveloping the estate took action. The spherical steerer’s room rotated; the ceiling of the steerer’s room, which faced its bow, now turned away from the estate. Jinto saw a red “17” sign beneath his feet. Pier 17 was reserved for connecting vessels like theirs.

  They docked. The footage of the outside cut out, reverting the walls around them to their typical milky white color. The green glyphs rolling across the screen communicated to the loc (LOH, pressure door) that the connected tube had been attached.

  “Let’s go, Jinto.” Lafiel removed her equipment and stood up.

  “Right.” Jinto stood up with her. “How long will we be able to stay for?”

  “For about thirty minutes.”

  “That’s it?” he frowned. Washing up would be all he could do in that time. Of course, he was grateful nonetheless.

  “We need to get to Sfagnoff as quickly as possible.”

  “I know.” Jinto followed her into the air lock room. “But how much earlier can we get there than the enemy fleet?”

  “What, you don’t know?” she said in a disdainful tone. “We’ll get there around 27 hours before them, by Sfagnoff time.”

  “In that case, we’ve got enough time to kick back...” But Jinto took note of her furrowed brow. “...is what I would say if I didn’t agree that we need to warn Sfagnoff of the danger with all haste.”

  “I thank you for not forgetting that,” she replied sharply.

  They stood atop the air lock room. It was blocked off by the férétcaucec (FEHRETKOHK, elevator ramp). “Descend,” she commanded of it.

  Dropping down through the translucent connection tube, the two stepped foot into the Baron’s estate. It was the first gravity he’d experienced in two days, so he felt dizzy as he scanned around.

  The skies were starry. With Febdash’s shining blue sun nowhere in sight, it was clear this wasn’t footage of the outside. There was another giveaway — the countless fish swimming among those stars.

  Ten-odd Landers were standing in a row in front of the connecting tube’s entryway. They were the gosucec (GOHSOOK, servants) of the lymh (LYOOF, baron). They made a strange impression on him. Then it dawned on him why — they were all women.

  The women bowed their heads. “Fïac Lartnér...” One of their number walked forward toward them, as reverentially as ever. It was the Flight Control officer from before. She kept her gaze away from the face of the Empress’s granddaughter, as though looking directly at it would invite destiny’s wrath upon her. “If you would be so kind as to enter our humble abode, I would be delighted to guide you to the restroom.”

  “We would like that very much. However...” Lafier’s tone turned stiff. “I’m just an apprentice starpilot of the Star Forces at present, and I ask that you treat me as such.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. We will accommodate your request. Now kindly come this way, Fïac Lartnér...” Lafier sighed and let it pass.

  “Is it always like this for you?” Jinto whispered.

  “Come off it!” she hissed in reply.

  They were escorted to a room within the spaceport’s facilities. It contained several tables, and the surroundings here were the same array of twinkling stars and wandering fish. There was nobody else there.

  Lafier was led to the seat at the very back. Jinto assumed he ought to sit next to her at her table, but the officer gestured for him not to.

  “Please, Sir, if you could seat yourself over there instead...”

  “Huh?” Jinto blinked, confused. “How come?”

  She chewed over her words, reluctant to answer why. Her diffident eyes drifted away from Jinto’s own. He was quite used to this reaction from people. The combination of his brown hair and his noble’s circlet was throwing her for loops. And it was more than evident that she believed a boy of clearly Lander genetics should not be sitting at the same table as a relative of the exalted Empress.

  “Jinto!” shouted Lafier, as though something in her snapped. “What are you doing? Just sit down already.”

  “I intend to.” Jinto was just as ticked off, and he ignored the officer.

  The officer furrowed her brow, but made no attempt to defy the royal princess. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Never mind drinks,” said Lafier. “I want to make use of your chicrh guzaser (SHEER GOOZAHSAR, shower room). Could you take us there?”

  “A member of the imperial family, asking for the shower room!” The officer’s eyes opened wide. “We have a gobh (GOHV, lavatory), which would be far more becoming. If I could but request you wait a short while—”

  “We have no time, gosucec-rann. Besides, I can assure you that imperials use regular old shower rooms all the time.”

  “Is that so...?” The officer was befuddled. “I’m afraid I don’t have the authority to answer. What would you like to drink?”

  Lafier gave in to her tenacity, and glanced at Jinto.

  “Give me coffee or somesuch. Make it co
ld,” said Jinto. He wasn’t actually thirsty; he just thought he ought to ask for something.

  “Fetch me some tirec nomr (TEER NOHM, peach juice). Make it hot, and add a slice of ropec (ROHP, lemon).”

  “I see you have unique tastes, Lafier,” he quipped casually, but then he noticed the officer giving him a hell of a glare. He gave a slight shrug.

  “Yes, Ma’am. I will bring Your Highness some peach juice. Please wait a moment.” The officer wiped the look from her face, bowed deeply, drew away.

  “And could you not forget my coffee while you’re at it...” mumbled Jinto. He couldn’t help but feel she hadn’t listened to a word he’d said from the start.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever take to this whole atmosphere,” said Lafier.

  “Right there with you.” Compared to the members of the imperial family, nobles were perhaps not that much of a rarity after all. That said, he now found being ignored rather fun. After all, it wasn’t as though he wanted to go around affecting the supercilious aristocrat. What he did want — and it was a modest desire — was for his presence to be acknowledged.

  At last, the Flight Control officer came back with another lady and an automaton in tow. The automaton came to a halt by Jinto’s side.

  “Here you are.” The officer gazed at Jinto with icy eyes.

  “Thanks.” As Jinto inwardly murmured his gratitude that they hadn’t overlooked him, he retrieved the container of chilled coffee from the automaton’s abdomen.

  The other lady lowered the cup of peach juice she’d been holding reverently. It was obvious she was extremely nervous. Her fingers were trembling, the peach juice sloshing.

  Then, it spilled over the brim. Not a large amount, mind. A single drop of juice touched the table.

  And yet, the two flew into such a panic, one would think they’d just splashed the royal princess’s head with boiling water.

  “Seelnay (SELL’NYE), wha-what have you done!?” The flight controller’s face turned pale.

  “M-my apologies!” Her tone was so apologetic, in fact, that one wouldn’t be surprised if she’d started rubbing the floor with her forehead.

  Jinto was horrified. What was there to get so upset about? So an infinitesimally tiny amount of peach juice had been spilled — so what?

  Lafier was also stupefied. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’ve spilled the drink I was to offer you, Fïac Lartnér. Wha-what ought I to do now... I beg your forgiveness...”

  “My forgiveness? For this?” Lafier looked blankly at the mere drops on the table. “There’s nothing to forgive.” When she wiped it with her finger, Seelnay gasped.

  “Augh! Please, this is beneath you! I, I’ll wipe it clean, so please, you needn’t deign to—”

  “Worry not.” Lafier lowered her hand, as though to hide the wet finger that Seelnay was nigh threatening to cling to. “I don’t know how you picture a royal palace upbringing, but I can dry my own finger.”

  “I’m certain you can, but...” Seelnay was near to bursting into tears.

  Lafier looked at Jinto with pleading eyes: save me.

  “Uhhh...” Jinto interjected. “I think if you don’t drop it, then it’d become something to apologize over.”

  “Y-Yes.” Seelnay bowed while biting her lip.

  “See, even Fïac Lartnér says so, Seelnay,” said the controller. “Let’s excuse ourselves for a moment.”

  “Yes.” Her shoulders shuddered slightly as she bowed deeply once again.

  Lafier waited until they’d vacated. “I’m liking this less and less.”

  “That blew my mind. Are all imperial citizens like that? It was like they were afraid of something. And I thought the NCCs on the Goslauth seemed a lot tougher...” Jinto may have been a noble, but he was a Lander genetically, and he was not amused at how servile his fellow Landers appeared to be.

  “They’re not like them. All the NCCs on the Goslauth are of sound character.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” He didn’t. It had been Lafier who’d told him that within the military, one’s family ties didn’t matter. There was a high probability that the Star Forces were an exception.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” Lafier looked surprised. “I speak only truth. You’ll see once we reach the Capital. I don’t tell lies that’ll be exposed so quickly.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I’ve even been scolded by an imperial citizen when I was a child.” Lafier got serious.

  “Did they not know you were a royal princess?”

  “No, they weren’t like you! That citizen was working at my home. Trust me, they knew.”

  “Your home, as in the Crybh Kingdom?”

  “Yes. It was a gardener who worked for royals. I’d made the ïazriac (YAHZREEA, portable podium) rush around the dining hall with abandon, and ended up ruining a shrubbery patch.”

  “Your stories are difficult to follow sometimes, you know that? A shrubbery patch in the dining hall? Don’t you mean right outside the dining hall?”

  “No, it was a dining garden.”

  “Ohhh.” Jinto remembered now: Abh dwellings were usually within artificial environments. For example, the resident could summon rain when and where desired. Since there was no distinction between indoors and outdoors, a flower bed and a sleeping bed could lie side-by side. A shrubbery patch in a dining space was nothing to question.

  Lafier resumed telling her story:

  The gardener surveyed the disaster zone with grieving eyes, but maintained his courteous demeanor as he spoke his mind to the petrified princess. He told her that he took immense pride in his work. That the artistry of the whole garden hinged on the patch that now lay in disarray. That he felt a great deal of shock and dismay over how it had been mangled by the prank of a seven-year-old girl. That humanity had not yet invented a way to quell the level of resentment seething within him.

  By the time he was done berating her, Lafier was beside herself, apologizing profusely while her lips trembled. She pledged never to perpetrate such a fatuous deed again — though of course, through the vocabulary of a seven-year-old.

  The gardener did not hold any stock in Lafier’s vow. Naturally his perfect courteousness never faltered, yet he intimated: “If your Highness’s portable podium should ever damage my creations again, I shall make sure you spend some quality time building an intimate relationship with my soil-enriching earthworms!” And only once he’d impressed this on her did he let her go.

  “Needless to say, afterward, my father scolded me as well. He said, ‘If you think your life is valueless enough to trade for a moment’s play, then have at it. But don’t you ever think so lowly of another person’s pride.’”

  “I get you, but maybe that gardener was just a special case,” said Jinto, still doubtful.

  “He wasn’t! The servants of both Crybh and of the other nobles I know all take pride in their work. They’re all that dignified and high-minded.”

  “All right, I believe you.” She’d convinced him. “Those two seem really prideful when it comes to me.”

  “They’re ignoring you.”

  “Thanks for telling me, but I think I noticed.”

  “In any case, I don’t like this place. I think it may be best to forgo the bath and leave...”

  Just then, the wall by their table shifted. A square “window” opened in the video of stars and fish, showing the image of a man.

  He was Abh. His hair was blue, but a faint blue with a golden gloss. His eyes were almond-shaped, and his mouth stuck in a slight sneer.

  “Please forgive the interruption,” came his salutations. “If I’m not mistaken, you must be Lartïéc Crybr, Fïac Lamhirh.”

  “I am indeed Ablïarsec néïc-Dubreuscr, Bœrh Parhynr Lamhirh,” said Lafier.

  “My name is Atausryac ssynéc-Atausr, Lymh Faibdacr Clüarh (KLOWAR, Baron of Febdash). It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Likewise, Baron.” Lafier nodded, then pointed at Jinto. �
�This is Linn ssynec-Rocr Ïarlucec Dreur Haïder Ghintec-lonh.”

  “Nice to meet you, lonh-Lymh,” said Jinto, bowing lightly.

  “My humblest greetings to you as well, lonh-ïarlucer Dreur.” But the Baron’s interest in Jinto evaporated once he’d gone through the obligatory courtesies. “Now then, Fïac Lartnér, there’s something I truly regret to inform you.”

  “What?” she asked warily.

  “I’m afraid that due to some distressing ineptitude on our end, it has come to light that we currently lack the fuel you require.”

  “But that can’t be! Your Flight Control officer clearly said...”

  “That’s where the aforementioned distressing ineptitude comes in. It was her oversight. And I can only offer my sincerest apologies.”

  “I understand. In that case, we’ll just resupply directly at an antimatter fuel storage asteroid.”

  “Oh, bless your heart,” the Baron of Febdash chuckled. Jinto didn’t know why, but he shuddered.

  “Your Highness, in your graciousness you’ve only just come to my doorstep,” the Baron continued. “It would shame the name of the Lyumjhe Faibdacr (LYOOMYEH FEBDAHK, Febdash Baron’s household) to see you off in such a state. By hook or by crook, I simply must show you around my orbital estate, squalid though it may be.”

  “Though I appreciate the generous invitation,” Lafier scowled, “I have been pressed to a military mission, and have no time for leisure. Have you not heard our circumstances? If not, kindly have your servants relay to you what I told them. I am not here on a courtesy call, Baron.”

  “I have heard, Fïac. We would be eternally grateful if you would suffer our cordial welcome nonetheless.”

  “I thank you for the offer. However...” It was plain to see that Lafier was feeling nothing close to gratitude; she was beginning to get very annoyed indeed. “...If you know of our situation, then you should understand that your warm reception is the last thing we need. I believe you should be working out how to get us off your domain instead.”

  “We’re sorry to have troubled you, but we don’t have any vessels you could use. There’s just nothing to be done.”