A Sunday in Akiba

by Mamare Touno

  The hum of voices in the hall grew louder.

  No doubt a large delegation had arrived. Apparently Malves was here, and she hadn’t even managed to hear the report in its entirety.

  Taking Elissa with her, Raynesia crossed the hall filled with orchestral music, bowing to Adventurers as she went. A man in the prime of life had entered through the large double doors.

  Raynesia hadn’t made his acquaintance, but there was no doubt that he was Malves, the aristocrat from the Holy Empire of Westlande.

  “I’m so pleased you could come.”

  In a light, graceful gesture, Raynesia pinched up her skirt and lowered her head deferentially.

  In the aristocracy of the People of the Earth, Raynesia’s position was a very delicate one. As a daughter of the House of Cowen, the greatest noble in the East, she was in a position to receive great respect. In addition, her beauty had earned her the admiration of high society as “the rose princess.”

  However, she was a woman, and in the aristocracy, it was unthinkable for a woman to hold an official public post.

  Of course, Raynesia was living in the town of Akiba on official business, to act as a go-between for People of the Earth and Adventurers, and to lay the groundwork for a variety of negotiations. However, officially, an announcement had been made that it was discipline for the arbitrary decision she’d made to ask for reinforcements from the Adventurers without permission from the League.

  Raynesia was active in Akiba as the representative of the eastern People of the Earth, but she had no official rank. She was only “the daughter of the House of Cowen, who is currently confined to a second residence.” This meant that when dealing with Malves, a great noble of the Holy Empire of Westlande, she had to curtsy quite deeply.

  “My, what beauty. If my memory serves me, you must be Princess Raynesia, daughter of the House of Cowen.”

  “Yes, Master Malves. I’m deeply grateful to be honored with your presence at my residence this evening, during this banquet to celebrate the autumn festival.”

  Flawlessly hiding her innermost thoughts, Raynesia modestly lowered her eyes.

  To be honest, her first impression had been a bad one.

  It might even have been the worst one possible: Malves was an aristocrat with a face like kneaded white clay. Raynesia had met aristocrats from the Holy Empire of Westlande several times when she accompanied her grandfather, and every time, she’d felt a visceral distortion. She felt the same thing now, with Malves.

  When it came to handing down ancient noble culture, the Holy Empire of Westlande was far more conservative than the East, and even the men often sprinkled themselves with cologne and wore rouge. Of course, it was probably quite becoming on some of them, but according to the customs of Eastal, the cosmetics were antiquated and bizarre.

  Raynesia wasn’t one to talk much about others’ personal appearance. However, rather than a simple issue of appearance, Malves’s seemed to be the result of a certain inward aspect that had bled through to the surface.

  “It’s a marvelous banquet. It looks quite the success.”

  “Yes, my lord. Thank you.”

  However, as a daughter of the nobility, Raynesia had spoken with a variety of diplomats and envoys. The skill children born into noble families most needed to acquire was the art of smiling and conversing with an innocent air, no matter how much one disliked the other party.

  “And yet, how shall I put it? It strikes me as a touch too disorderly.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  The noble’s voice held a hint of contemptuous laughter. Raynesia raised her eyes, very slightly.

  “Oh, the idea that nobles would appear at the same banquet as commoners. One might call it the fearlessness peculiar to the East, where they’ve inherited the blood of barbarians… Ha-ha-ha! …Here now, I’ll thank you not to come near me. Shoo, shoo.”

  “I’m terribly sorry. The East is ill-versed in that sort of refinement, which is why this banquet became as it is. I’m not certain whether its flavor will please you, but would you care for some Eastern liquor?”

  She certainly wasn’t accustomed to hearing such contemptuous speech, but it was nothing she couldn’t let slide. Most of the members of the League of Free Cities were local city-states that had been conquered when the Westlande Imperial Dynasty was established. In consequence, since the old days, the large Western cities with imperial palaces—Minami and Ikoma—had treated them as rather backward, barbaric regions.

  Even then, Eastal was better off than some. Ezzo was despised as a savage land where no human being had ever set foot, as true barbarians. It wasn’t without cause that, after its independence, Ezzo had declared itself an empire and stirred up animosity toward central Yamato.

  Raynesia tilted her head slightly, then poured liquor into the cup the ornately dressed Malves held. He narrowed his eyes at Raynesia in a rapturous smile, then insolently touched her silver hair.

  Anger flared up in Raynesia’s immediate vicinity.

  It was the Adventurers who were closest to Raynesia and Malves. Young, armored warriors holding glasses and dapper swordsmen with long weapons at their hips turned dangerous eyes their way.

  Their glances meant, Should we butcher this impertinent white pig? Inwardly, Raynesia giggled at them.

  Down to the last man, the Adventurers really were free, and as open-hearted as birds. Raynesia was happy that she’d grown able to understand their thoughts.

  However, using only her eyes, Raynesia declined their silent offer. There were offers that one could not take advantage of precisely because they were kind. If they harmed a great noble of the West, they’d all suffer for it, and she’d anticipated sticky speech of this sort.

  Unless Raynesia kept control of the situation, at best, this aristocrat would be thrown out, and at worst, he might be put to the sword. That would be an unfortunate ending for both East and West, for both People of the Earth and Adventurers.

  If all he did was speak sarcastically, she was prepared to go along with him for as long as it took.

  That was what Raynesia thought.

  After all, she liked being lazy. She was confident in her ability to let entire conversations go in one ear and out the other. She’d even attempt to bite back unladylike yawns. Of course, she’d have to be prepared to face Elissa’s anger afterward, but even so.

  “Well, never mind. Princess. I want you to make haste and prepare a storehouse. Some of the cargo I’ve brought along is seafood. It won’t do to let it spoil.”

  “Of course. I’m having inquiries made as we speak. Please wait just a moment.”

  Raynesia bowed her head gracefully.

  However, with a clearly scornful expression, Lord Malves interrupted her.

  “Hah! What are you saying, Princess? A request regarding this matter has already been made in writing. The same documents were sent to Duke Sergiad in Maihama as well, and I have a response.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You are ready to receive it, aren’t you? The merchandise is top-quality, the sort delivered to the Holy Empire’s House of Saimiya. I don’t want to see goods such as these treated lightly. You do understand, I trust?”

  1

  “None of that now. You mustn’t use force.”

  “Line up, line up!”

  “Yes, we’re accepting documents over here. Yes, yes!”

  Cheerful voices flew back and forth.

  The voices belonged to beautiful girls.

  In Elder Tales, due to its nature as a game, whether they were player-controlled characters or the characters that came and went in town, all the women were fundamentally cute or beautiful. Men acquired the adjectives distinguished, cool, or cute.

  As that was the case, if a certain number of women gathered together, particularly if they were Adventurers, they would probably all be lovely…but even then, the current level of gaiety was excessive.

  Inside the countermeasure headquarters, which had been hastily set up near
the entrance to the great exhibition and sale hall, Shiroe stealthily heaved a sigh.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d seen girls giving their all for Soujirou’s sake. People said that falling in love made women beautiful, and it was true. Shiroe interpreted this to mean that their cheeks flushed, their eyes grew dewy, and they showed soft expressions more often, which made them seem more charming.

  However, on top of this, Soujirou’s groupies—or, in their words, “personal bodyguard”—seemed to be scattering heart marks from head to toe. The aura made it into their voices, too, giving them a honeyed sweetness.

  This is more than I expected.

  With a sour expression, Shiroe looked around the venue.

  Here and there around the great hall, girls with blue armbands were organizing lines, occasionally observing negotiations between People of the Earth merchants and Adventurers, and giving advice.

  Their actions were smooth and skilled, and they suggested several hundred hours of solid training.

  Of course, they hadn’t taken anywhere near that much time.

  It was all due to the power of Soujirou’s personal bodyguard, whom Shiroe had eloquently won over. You’d never think it just to look at them, but they were a highly organized group.

  Not only that, but thanks to their telechat contact network, more people kept showing up.

  As far as Shiroe knew, the West Wind Brigade—the combat guild of which Soujirou was guild master—had a current total of thirty members. However, no matter how you looked at it, there seemed to be over fifty girls participating in the current operation.

  “Counselor Shiroe.”

  A girl with a resolute expression addressed Shiroe.

  Apparently, before he was aware of it, Shiroe had begun to be treated as “Counselor.” This was because Soujirou had told them to “Obey Mister Shiroe for on-site orders.”

  “Five new members have arrived, and can be dispatched as a party.”

  Her brisk report was smooth and seemed polished.

  Even in major guilds like Silver Sword or Gundari, the softer members wouldn’t be capable of this.

  “Uh…”

  Shiroe searched for words.

  Even though he’d proposed this operation himself, he was well aware of how complicated and noncommittal his current expression was.

  “Where’s Soujirou?”

  “Sir. Master Sou is currently in the hall on a date—I mean, he’s patrolling, and Squad Four is in attendance.”

  Shiroe looked out the window, gauging the time. It was probably about time to move on to the next stage.

  “In that case, contact Soujirou. Tell him to return to the countermeasure headquarters, then join up with Squad Five. Keep conducting forty-five-minute hall patrols. Squad Four will take over Squad Five’s current duties: In other words, directly guarding the headquarters and assisting with reception. Then, organize new arrivals into new squads of three members each. Put these on duty patrolling the city.”

  “Understood, sir. We, we, we—”

  “Eh?”

  The girl had suddenly gone bright red. Shiroe cocked his head, perplexed.

  “We of Squad Five will go on patrol with Master Sou, according to your orders, Counselor Shiroe, sir.”

  As she repeated back the order, a few of the bodyguards who had been shooting furtive glances their way—in other words, the girls of Squad Five—gave squeals that couldn’t be completely hidden.

  “Together with Master Sou!” “That’s a first for me.” “What’ll I do? I’m not wearing cute undies!” Murmurs that were begging for all sorts of sarcastic retorts escaped the gaggle. Their eyes had sailed past dewy and were now nearly heart shaped.

  Yet, their idea was pretty close to the mark.

  The operation Shiroe had proposed this time used a guard patrol with Soujirou (or rather, a group date on that pretext) as bait to increase the number of staff on site.

  Soujirou was slowly patrolling this exhibition and sale venue, which overflowed with autumn and winter clothes, with squads of three or four members. He had orders to be careful not to hurry, so the act really was a date. Soujirou had been instructed to buy each one a present that cost up to twenty coins. The Round Table Council would pick up the tab.

  When he’d hit on the idea, along with the flash of inspiration—This is brilliant!—Shiroe had also cut himself down: Come on, is a maneuver like this really going to work? However, the result was that it was functioning in the hall at this very moment, producing an effect beyond anything he’d imagined.

  Shiroe didn’t know the details, but he’d heard that Soujirou’s personal bodyguard boasted an iron unity. (The girl who’d spoken to him a moment ago had bragged about it.) Apparently there was a pyramid-shaped command system that ran from Master Sou’s chief manager down to the newbies. They’d used that command system to organically organize formations, and now they were single-handedly dealing with the trouble in the hall.

  Although Soujirou and his group were wandering around slowly, there were six other squads on patrol, stopping trouble before it started. If it looked as though a troublesome argument was about to break out, Shiroe had ordered them to contact him by telechat without hesitation, or to threaten the merchants with the idea of continuing their discussion in the presence of the Round Table Council.

  At first, he’d been wary, thinking that the People of the Earth merchants or spies might expand the uproar anyway, but possibly because even People of the Earth had difficulty coping with attractive young girls, almost no trouble was occurring.

  After all, the girls’ motivation was tremendous.

  They were conducting systematic, careful patrols, and their expressions were literally transfigured. At the same time, they dealt with the venue in a genuine, mild way that left no room for complaint. If they participated in this volunteer activity, they might get closer to Soujirou. This fantasy probably never left their minds. As they diligently patrolled, Soujirou appeared before them again and again. Not only that, but he was patrolling at the head of a different squad every time. Of course their will to work grew stronger.

  If they thought Soujirou might be watching, they dealt with matters more courteously. They were intent on acting like adorable girls, and their pretense of feline innocence went so overboard that, to Shiroe, they seemed to have the aura of ferocious tigers.

  Of course, compared to the girls—whose adrenaline had spiked along with their motivation—Shiroe’s biorhythm was as low as it could possibly get. It wasn’t that he was jealous of Soujirou, or that he wanted to build a harem, but having a disparity of this magnitude shoved right in his face made him feel—like every other guy in the world—rather hopeless.

  It was true that Soujirou was an agreeable young man. He was mild and kind, a gentleman, and a nice guy who could always be counted on in a fight. On top of that, the way he was hopelessly scatterbrained and clumsy stirred their protective instincts—or that was how he had come to understand it from what the girls said. When he was in the Debauchery Tea Party, Nazuna and Yomi had explained to him in exhaustive detail just what it was about Soujirou that was so charming.

  However, even then, he wasn’t fully satisfied.

  Was it possible to be this popular, just from those things?

  He was so hugely popular it made Shiroe wonder whether it was some kind of magic. He wasn’t jealous, and yet he was exasperated. It’s truly weird, Shiroe muttered to himself.

  “Lord Counselor, it’s a pleasure to meet you. We’ve just arrived at our post. We’re, ergh, umm, Number Sixteen? That’s right, Squad Sixteen!”

  As he looked at the elated girl who stood stiffly at attention in front of him, Shiroe reconfirmed the weirdness he’d felt up until a moment ago.

  What makes girls like this? Love is seriously strange. I guess popular people really are a type of genius. …Although they’re right next door to dangerous objects.

  He thought of Soujirou.

  He was a good-looking boy who wa
s a bit on the delicate side, yet absolutely loved combat. He was a perfectly satisfactory guy to have as a friend. They were gaming buddies, and he thought it was fine to just leave it at that, but maybe it was different from a girl’s perspective.

  “Understood. Squads Nine through Eighteen, go out and act as town guards.”

  “Town guards? You mean like the Shinsengumi!”

  For some reason, the girl was very excited and happy. Shiroe nodded absently. He understood that when dealing with women this hyper, you didn’t make unnecessary retorts, and you didn’t defy them.

  “Um, oh. My liege.”

  Akatsuki spoke. She and Shiroe were watching the Crescent Moon League booth by turns. Her embarrassed expression was probably due to the clothes she was wearing.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Um… Are you leaving? What about that promise? The stage…”

  At Akatsuki’s words, Shiroe remembered. Come to think of it…

  Part of the promise they’d made to Henrietta had been a stage show to promote sales. No doubt Shiroe was more of a stagehand, but she was probably counting on Akatsuki fully. It was likely that the clothes Henrietta had put on her, an outfit in the style of the old world, were meant to be worn in the stage show.

  However, at present, Akiba was under attack.

  Technically, it was no time for stage shows.

  “You did promise, didn’t you, my liege…?”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  No… That might not be the case…

  Pushing up his glasses, Shiroe considered.

  If the enemy’s goal was a saturation attack on the Round Table Council’s processing abilities, and if they were working to damage trust and probably to cause internal schisms, then, to the greatest extent possible, the Libra Festival should go on as planned. That was what Shiroe had thought, but now he adjusted that course of action slightly.

  In the first place, people from outside won’t know what the plans were. If it ends up looking like a success, there won’t be any problem with ad-libbing a bit.