by Mamare Touno
Each of the full raids that formed the legion raid was given a number, one through four, and they disembarked on the Zantleaf Peninsula in the late afternoon. They were heading for the western area of Kasumi Lake, a point about twenty-four kilometers away.
The Akiba expeditionary force mounted their horses as a body and rode straight north, toward the Goblin plunder army. Rotating the leading unit in order to avoid exhaustion, the group raced over the old, decaying national road like a gale.
They looked like a bolt of black lightning that was blazing through Zantleaf.
Onward! Onward!!
Like an arrow shot from a bow, the expeditionary army’s advance unit, led by Krusty, rushed headlong toward the main enemy force.
1
After Raynesia’s departure, a chaotic despondency ruled the conference room. Krusty, the Round Table Council representative, had gone with Raynesia. Shiroe, who had struck the Lords’ Council as a counselor and a moderate, had gone as well.
The only remaining Round Table Council envoy was Michitaka, who seemed like a resolute hard-liner.
The Lords’ Council was also unsure where to bring down the fist they had raised. Rather, in the first place, although they’d raised their fist, it was questionable whether they actually managed to bring it down at all. Those with the ability and the will to handle the situation at the conference had gone, and their purpose was confused.
During the discussion that followed, poor Baron Clendit completely lost his ability to preside as the chair. He turned pale and red by turns, the desperate care of his retainers proved useless, and at last, gasping feebly, he requested permission to retire.
Although theirs wasn’t as severe as Baron Clendit’s, all the lords were harboring the same sort of confusion to a greater or lesser degree.
As a result, at around midnight, the conference was temporarily adjourned.
In the corridor, Michitaka exhaled deeply.
This couldn’t be more of a pain in the butt.
In the first place, although Michitaka was in charge of a merchant guild, he wasn’t particularly skilled at fine negotiations. He was the sort of guy who thought that a merchant’s job was to make good things, sell them at fair prices, and open up new markets, and nothing else.
And anyway, I’m a blacksmith…
He still considered himself an active artisan. Even now that he was on the Round Table Council, he plied his hammer every day. Now that the number of players heading to high-level dungeons had fallen off, the magical materials needed to create magic items were running thin and things were a bit dreary, but it wasn’t impossible to work around.
Michitaka’s opinion of himself was that he’d just happened to like hanging out with other people and hadn’t had any aversion to talking, so his friends had kicked him upstairs.
He’d probably sounded like a hardliner to the Lords’ Council, but as far as Michitaka was concerned, he’d only been giving a bunch of rude idiots an earful, and he didn’t feel any ill will toward the League of Free Cities as a whole. He’d been against sending soldiers mostly because that was the role he’d been given, out of the three Round Table Council members. Personally, he wasn’t actually against contributing troops.
In any event, he was a production player. Compared to the Adventurers who would leave the town to fight with the expedition, he was in very little danger of dying. Even when the war began, it was likely that he and his guild would simply provide logistical support from Akiba. He couldn’t deny that, privately, he felt guilty about someone in a position like his easily approving of war.
Grousing now that things are in motion, huh…?
He shoved thick fingers into his black hair, scratching at his head. He was in a rotten mood, and he really couldn’t stand it.
Michitaka walked down the long, deserted corridor, trailing a man from his guild behind him. At the corner of the corridor, he casually glanced out at the terrace. There wasn’t any real significance to it. It was only that, as he’d turned the corner, the moonlight had been shining in, so he’d looked that way.
“Master Soujirouuu. These egg sweets are delicious, too.”
“Master Soujirou, listen to my story, too!”
“You’re tired, Master Soujirou. I’ll sing you a gentle lullaby, so please nap for a little while…”
There was a magnificent sofa on the moonlit terrace, set up as a place to be used for tea parties. On it sat Michitaka’s comrade Soujirou, guild master of the West Wind Brigade, surrounded by People of the Earth princesses and ladies-in-waiting. For some reason, Michitaka was assailed by a feeling of desolation.
The dark clouds that hung over Akiba’s future and had weighed on his mind, his own guilt, and that indescribable unease… None of it seemed to matter anymore.
Compared to the aura that hung around Soujirou and that view, worrying about the Round Table Council and the League of Free Cities seemed truly pointless.
Aah, I bet my face looks like something somebody scribbled with their left hand…
Without approaching Soujirou, Michitaka turned his steps toward the area that held his own room.
So, that was it for tonight. What should he do about tomorrow?
Michitaka began to think these things, but in a moment, it was clear that such a laid-back development wouldn’t be happening.
Waiting in front of the division the Round Table Council was borrowing was Raynesia’s grandfather, Duke Sergiad Cowen. The old duke—whose retinue consisted of a single knight who was holding a lamp—bowed to Michitaka silently. It had been a very long conference. There was no way he wasn’t tired, but the old duke’s aura betrayed no fatigue. Michitaka respected him for that.
The duke spoke briefly to Michitaka: “Shall we?”
Guessing what he was after, Michitaka began to walk, leading the way.
He invited him into the small conversation room where the Round Table Council—Krusty, Shiroe, and Michitaka—routinely held their meetings. The “small” was only in relation to the standards of the palace: To the Japanese Michitaka, the conference room, which was really two rooms and could be partitioned off at the center, looked big enough to live in.
When he motioned for him to sit, took tea out of his bag and poured him some, the old duke seemed very slightly startled. There was no way someone like the duke didn’t know about magic bags, and Michitaka didn’t know what the reaction meant, but he decided to ignore it for now.
“My apologies for visiting so late.”
“No, don’t worry about that. If we don’t get that conference squared away, neither of us is going to be sleeping well.”
“Ha-ha-ha, I suppose not.”
The old aristocrat who was seated across from Michitaka put a hand to his splendid whiskers and laughed confidently.
“I mustn’t let my granddaughter’s thoughtless actions bring about the fall of the House of Cowen.”
Come to think of it, his position was extremely precarious at present.
Of course, as the leading lord of Eastal, the League of Free Cities, Duke Sergiad had great influence. However, in this case, the very strength of that influence could prove to be a handicap.
“As you’ve guessed, the girl’s actions may cause a rift in the league of lords.”
He was pointing out the possibility of the story that the House of Cowen had stolen a march on the Lords’ Council. Maihama, which Sergiad governed, was powerful. If Maihama and Akiba joined forces and took in a few of the other lords, their forces would be large enough to drive out the remainder of the League.
Of course Princess Raynesia probably had no such ambition. Michitaka and the other Round Table Council members thought the event had been a sort of freak accident, and that it hadn’t had any deeper meaning.
However, in this situation, what was important was the way other people interpreted it.
Even if there had been no deeper meaning, meaning could be assigned after the fact.
The fact that we’re talking like
this now might give somebody somewhere the wrong idea, too…
“Because it’s possible that Maihama could take in Akiba and establish a new power, right?” Michitaka asked directly. He wasn’t good at scheming and beating around the bush.
“That is one idea, yes, but… Hmm… What do you think, Master Michitaka?”
Michitaka had expressed a dislike for being called sir in the conference, and he felt favorably disposed to the duke for using master instead. Sir was just a word to Michitaka, and it didn’t particularly please or repulse him. However, this old man had avoided the word because Michitaka had expressed anger about it. It felt as if he was trying to deal with the other man as an individual, a human being.
Well, let’s see, now. I’m not a brain like Shiroe…
Michitaka thought hard, tilting his head on its thick neck.
Just then, there was a subdued knock.
When Michitaka gave permission, Henrietta entered with a cart that held a late-night snack. The group of delegates from Akiba, which had grown due to Shiroe’s proposal, included Chefs. The area the Round Table Council was borrowing had been set up (although they’d probably had a terrible time doing so) with the various things needed in order to create the banquets that accompanied small conferences and tea parties.
Henrietta had probably brought the midnight snack and drinks out of consideration for them.
“Hey, that’s perfect. Come join us, would you, Henrietta?”
“No, I was simply—”
“C’mon, it’s fine.”
Henrietta knit her brow at Michitaka’s invitation, but when he pressed her, after she set out the light meal, she sat down beside Michitaka.
“You’re the young lady who danced with Master Shiroe at the ball, aren’t you.”
“Yes, I’m Henrietta of the Crescent Moon League.”
“The Crescent Moon League is one of the eleven guilds on the Round Table Council. This young woman is one of their advisers.”
After he finished the introduction, Michitaka took a breather.
He didn’t plan to shove all the responsibility off onto Henrietta, of course, but the matter was much too serious. Henrietta would probably notice pitfalls Michitaka’s brain had missed and come up with a set direction for the conversation.
For the moment, the three of them began on the meal in front of them.
Cold chicken sandwiches and a salad of cooked vegetables. In addition, there was fruit and thinly diluted liquor.
They commented on each of the dishes and made small talk for a while, letting the conversation wander where it would.
When Michitaka and Henrietta briefly explained their positions, and Duke Sergiad described the city of Maihama for them, the conversation came full circle, returning to the topic of the evening’s conference.
“I understand the matter now, in general. Let me see…”
As she spoke, Henrietta set down her teacup elegantly.
Sergiad looked like a genial old man, and so she continued easily, pressing him with questions:
“The important point of departure here is your vision of the goal you wish to achieve, Duke Sergiad. I think the crux of this discussion is whether you’ll be able to share that with the Round Table Council.”
Michitaka grunted.
In a word, that was all it was, but there was something pitiful about summing up the pain and confusion of that five-hour conference in just one line. However, that was probably due to Henrietta’s intelligence. They said that two heads—or three—were better than one, but from his experience on Earth, even Michitaka knew they probably couldn’t expect that sort of thing from a conference like that one.
“I expect that’s it exactly. Hm…”
Duke Sergiad closed his eyes.
“It’s weird for me to say this, but I doubt we’ll make any headway if we keep trying to sound each other out. We’d like to hear what you have to say, candidly; whatever you, personally, are hoping for,” Michitaka added.
He was fed up with being treated like a dog or cat, but he didn’t think this elderly man would speak to them that rudely. If he did, then he did, and if the man who was leading lord of the Lords’ Council held opinions like that, he wasn’t worth dealing with.
“First, there’s the immediate issue of the goblin plunder army. I would like to cooperate with you on this, to have you defend us against them and eradicate them. We are locked in a long, long struggle with the demihumans. Our ultimate issue is protecting the land of our ancestors.”
Michitaka could agree with that.
Any noble who didn’t have the will to protect their territory and their people wasn’t a noble at all.
To them, that hope was less a condition or requirement than it was the premise of the discussion and its point of flight.
“In addition, I no longer wish to invite you to join Eastal, the League of Free Cities, as its twenty-fifth noble member.”
Michitaka was startled into silence.
“I now feel that our initial mistake, the basis of our error, lay in treating the Round Table Council as if it was the same as our lords, who hold fortified cities and territories. I don’t intend to boycott the Round Table Council or to put distance between us. This isn’t that sort of conversation. It’s more accurate to say that at this point, I am aware that the power of the Round Table Council is equal to that of Eastal, the League of Free Cities. The structure and the actual strength of the Round Table Council, and of the town of Akiba, equal those of our League of Free Cities in all respects. In the League, the lords discuss matters and cooperate with one another. This is extraordinarily similar to the Round Table Council, which was born as a federation of your houses—or your guilds, I should say; that was the word, wasn’t it? Since your territory is a single town, and it isn’t a large one, we took you lightly, and that prejudice led us to make a very rude, selfish proposal to you. I would like to apologize for that discourtesy.”
Michitaka thought about Duke Sergiad’s words.
“The area of the town of Akiba’s territory is not in proportion to its power. This isn’t a nice way to put it, but if we forced it into the League’s framework, sooner or later it would cause friction, and I believe it would destroy us. We may be able to bell a wolf, but I doubt we can chain it up. Even less so if we are dealing with a griffin that soars through the skies. I feel that the proper relationship between Eastal and the Round Table Council would place both parties on equal terms. I think we should conclude nonaggression pacts and treaties of commerce, and build our relationship on them.”
“Agreed.”
At Michitaka’s response, Duke Sergiad’s eyes went wide.
“In the first place, the Round Table Council has no territorial ambitions or plans to invade. We just want to protect our home in this world, and… If we manage to get our wish, to find a way back to our old world; that’s enough for us. Of course, in order to do that, we’ll have to live in this world for the time being. We’ll need to travel to ruins that are located all over, and we’ll need to trade for food and the like. That said, that doesn’t mean that we can’t cooperate with our neighbors in order to get these things done. Nothing would make us happier than being able to cooperate.”
After Michitaka had responded that far without pausing, he glanced at Henrietta. Henrietta frowned; she seemed to be thinking. Then she added, speaking quickly:
“This is, of course, an extremely general, basic policy, you understand. Even if the relationship is an equal one, until we see the wording of the treaty and learn just how the principle has been incorporated, we can make no promises in the truest sense of the word.”
She sounded slightly flustered. Michitaka nodded in agreement.
He’d been hoping she would cover for him when it came to details like that.
Duke Sergiad seemed to have been a bit surprised by how ready and frank their response had been. For a short while, he was at a loss for words.
“However, regarding mutual nonaggression p
acts and treaties of commerce made from the standpoint of equals… Those would mean that we will not attack each other, and that we will conduct trade. I’m very sorry, but the defense against the current goblin invasion will be outside the scope of such treaties. Of course, I don’t intend to declare what is and is not within the scope of the treaty at this point, when we have yet to conclude a treaty of any kind. However, I believe the question of how to handle this irregular situation is very significant, both for the League of Free Cities and for the territory of Maihama, is it not?”
Both Michitaka and Duke Sergiad nodded at what Henrietta had pointed out.
In the end, the conversation had come right back to it.
The inequality of the burdens on the People of the Earth and the Adventurers.
The mutual distance that stemmed from the difference between their separate positions and the things they looked at.
“Let’s set that aside for now.”
Michitaka shrugged his shoulders as if poking fun at the atmosphere, which had been on the point of growing heavy.
That image of Soujirou was in the back of his mind, and just remembering it made stressing about anything seem dumb.
The Adventurers had unlimited power; would the People of the Earth grow jealous of it and plot against them? That sort of aristocratic political corruption had weighed on him, but the moment he’d seen Soujirou’s harem-forming nature in action, he’d stopped caring. That experience had drained the strength out of his knees. Jealousy and anger and suspicion were all pretty easy to understand compared to that.
In any case, there was no need for Michitaka to shoulder all that by himself.
“Since Krusty and Princess Raynesia, the two people in question, aren’t here, there’s no way to wrap things up neatly. Besides, they might have some specific idea in mind. It isn’t fair for us to have to worry about it on our own. We should pull in Shiroe and have those three think about it; that would make for a better division of labor.”
Michitaka’s opinion was a little reckless, but the other two felt the same way.