by Akira Kareno
The lizard lady’s round eyes peeled back in surprise.
Some communication of intent had been conveyed just like that. The two gently drew closer together, feeling each other’s warmth—was that a thing these cold-blooded creatures did?
What happened next made it seem as though they were being considerate of the pair’s romantic rendezvous. The light from the gas lamps flickered, then finally went out.
The dark of night spread, gently enveloping the two lovers.
Then the story came to a quiet close—
Tink.
Once the day’s performance was over, light from the illuminating crystals filled the projection room.
“Hmm.” Pannibal nodded, as though she understood.
“Ooh.” Collon seemed somewhat impressed.
“Wow…” Tiat’s eyes glistened.
“…” Lakhesh’s mouth was agape.
It was actually shocking how the little ones, who always ran around the faerie warehouse (the name of their lodgings) with such energy, had become quietly engrossed in the story, each expressing a different emotion.
Willem sat beside them, pressing against his temples as he fought a slight headache.
(…I have no idea what’s going on…)
He knew, at least, that the projection he just watched was some kind of love story.
But he couldn’t understand anything more than that.
In love stories, the audience should be able to empathize with one of the characters or at least enjoy it by admiring the beautiful cast of men and women. But this was a strange rendering where all the characters were lizardfolk, so the hurdles for both forms of appreciation were a little too high.
The wall between races was truly a thick one.
Just as the name implied, recording crystals were a special sort of quartz that could grab a clip of the surrounding scenery and record it. Depending on the classification and precision of the cut, purity, and size of the stones themselves, the accuracy and amount of what could be projected changed. By shining light with similar direction and wavelength, the recorded scene could be projected outward. By changing the angle even slightly, it was also possible to choose what images were projected, and when applying this logic, it was also possible to move the series of recorded imagery realistically during playback. The necessary equipment wasn’t that expensive, so it was possible to install anything medium size and under in projection houses in town—it was all rather interesting.
Well, the technical stuff wasn’t really important.
What mattered was that this technology existed on Regule Aire, and the recorded projection culture borne from it was spreading.
If the local projection house had all the right recording crystals, anyone could watch a performance they wanted to see without having to go all the way to a playhouse in the big city. The performances didn’t have any sound, and the picture wasn’t exactly clear, but at the very least, they existed. Performances played a major role in the spread of fiction within Regule Aire, but—
He exited the projection house, dragging the four little ones along.
“That was wonderful!” Tiat exclaimed, the air sparkling around her.
“Adults!” Collon exclaimed nonsensically.
“Mm-hmm!” Pannibal huffed, squaring her shoulders.
“One day, I also…” Lakhesh swooned, gazing into space.
Willem was the only one to sigh, his shoulders drooping.
It hadn’t been very long since these girls had been “born” as faeries. Since they looked and acted like children no older than ten, when they wanted to visit the projection house, Willem was required to go along as their caretaker.
And that was how he had ended up accompanying the four girls.
“I’m exhausted…”
The outward appearance of the leprechaun girls was similar to the so-called featureless. They had no horns or fangs or scales or animal ears, and they bore a striking resemblance to the emnetwiht who once flourished on the surface. The only difference was that most of them had vividly colored hair and eyes.
So why did they feel this way after watching a lizard love story?
Perhaps it was their gender. Or their age. Or the difference in their generations. Or maybe everyone born on Regule Aire naturally enjoyed such things, and he was the only exception. Ugh, there is no decency left in this world.
“Um, is something the matter?”
He heard a considerate voice from somewhere below him.
Lakhesh was staring up at him, likely thinking something was wrong.
“Cheer up, Willie!”
The moment he thought something would come hurtling at his back, Collon’s short arms and legs clambered swiftly up his right elbow and onto his shoulder. She was truly deft with that small body of hers.
“Yah! You gotta have guts! Guts!”
“Hmm, if you go for the carotid artery, you’ll be golden.”
“S-s-s-stop! Collon, come down quickly, and Pannibal, stop egging her on like that!”
Yes, Lakhesh was a good kid. And Collon and Pannibal were bad kids. Well, it was important for children to be energetic, so in that sense, they were all good kids. By the way, that move really hurt, so how am I going to get her off? His mind, still faintly hurting, was blank as he thought about that.
…Just then, he felt someone’s eyes staring into his back, and he turned to the last girl.
“Tiat, what’s wrong?”
“Huh?”
“Thinking about something?”
She seemed surprised for a moment, as though she wasn’t expecting him to call to her.
“Well, um… I was just thinking that maybe, the reason you’ve been so down lately, is because of our seniors…”
“Your seniors? Oh, you mean Chtholly and the others?”
“Y-yeah.”
That was interesting. It was a little odd to use the word seniors when referring to people who were essentially family.
But these faeries were still members of the Guard—more precisely, they were military assets. While they greatly differed individually, it wasn’t odd for them to show they held some sort of respect for their elders.
“Well, sure, I guess so,” he answered honestly, thinking there was no reason for him to hide it.
“Huh?” For some reason, Tiat raised her voice in surprise.
“It actually makes me anxious. I even had a weird dream this morning because they haven’t come back.”
“Even in your dreams?!”
“Whoa…”
Tiat (and, for some reason, Lakhesh) were dazzled.
They made the same faces as in the projection house, watching the lizard love story.
“…Wait, come on, guys. What are you thinking?”
“So you’ve been hiding your pain while waiting for your beloved to return?”
“Wow… Adult love…”
He had no idea what they were talking about.
“Ooh, a happy adult!”
“A sincere confession in the middle of traffic. You’re brave, Manager.”
He was even less sure of what the last two were talking about. But more importantly, his captive right arm was really starting to hurt.
“—It’s normal to be worried about your family. Love and whatever isn’t something to act so arrogant over. Aren’t you worried about them at all?”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Even if we weren’t worried, they would come home safely. And if it ends up they can’t come back, then worrying won’t solve anything,” Tiat declared.
Oh—right. These girls were faeries. Lives meant to be consumed for war. And maybe because of that, they weren’t particularly attached to their lives.
Did that indifferent way of thinking apply not only to their own lives but to the lives of other races?
(I’m guessing Chtholly broke that pattern, in a way.)
She said she didn’t want to die.
Though she hadn
’t put it into words, her attitude told him she didn’t want to expose the adorable little ones to danger.
In Willem’s eyes, Chtholly’s fear was a good thing. That way of life felt much more “emnetwiht-like” than even Willem himself, who couldn’t see any value in continuing to live in this world.
He hadn’t realized it, but the reason why he ended up supporting her might have been because of that.
“That’s not what worrying is about.” Since he couldn’t move his right arm, he twisted his body to place his left hand on Tiat’s head. “You’ll understand soon enough.”
“H-hey! Don’t treat me like a child!”
“At the very least, Chtholly was worried. About you.”
“…She was? Why?”
“Because she’s an adult, I’d think. More than you are, at least.”
Tiat puffed her cheeks up in a huff.
“Fine! Then we’ll worry about them, too!” She faced the blue sky, shouting a declaration that didn’t really hit the mark.
“Yeah!!” Collon cheered, like she didn’t quite understand.
“Good luck,” Pannibal chimed in, seeming like it didn’t matter much to her.
“Adults… So Miss Chtholly really is an adult in Mr. Willem’s eyes…” Lakhesh swooned as she murmured something to herself. He would pretend he didn’t hear that.
“—Er, Collon. My ligaments and stuff feel like they’re about to break. Get off.”
“I haven’t heard you cry uncle yet!”
“Ohhh, uncle, uncle.”
“Woo!”
Slip. Collon jumped down lightly.
A cold wind blew through the town. His body was shivering ever so slightly, unbeknownst to him.
The sky was high above them, a few clouds here and there.
The seasons were slowly beginning to change.
The facilities were deep in the forest on Island No. 68.
They were lodgings big enough for almost fifty people to live together, judging by appearances. It was a two-story wooden building that felt quite old. Right beside it was a tiny, well-groomed vegetable patch and flower bed. A little ways away was a recreational field, a bit on the small side.
On paper, this was a “warehouse” meant for storing the Guard’s secret weapons. No one was supposed to live here outside of the bare minimum number of personnel needed to manage the assets.
Of course, “supposed to” meant that wasn’t the case in reality.
More than thirty faeries lived their daily lives here.
The girls, who were nothing but objects on paper, were living their days so full of energy and cheer that it was impossible to think they were nothing but weapons.
On the roof of the “warehouse,” a large bunch of laundry fluttered on the clothesline.
“—Oooh, the weather is looking bad.”
A woman was glancing up at the sky, holding to her chest a sheet she’d just taken off the line.
“Hello, you delicious being. If you have nothing better to do, why don’t you help me?”
“I’ll help, so stop calling me that.”
“What! It’s the highest compliment among my people!”
“You all need to study the official language of the island cluster from scratch, right now.”
As Willem responded with a joke, he lifted the woven basket that sat beside him and began to place the closest articles of laundry into it.
There was a slight dampness to the wind. The rain was approaching.
“Boo. I feel like you’ve been rude to trolls lately, Willem.”
The woman puffed her cheeks like a small child. His cheek twitched slightly when he saw how much it suited her.
Nygglatho was one of the “bare minimum number of personnel needed to stay to manage the assets” mentioned earlier.
She looked to be about twenty. She was tall, her eye level roughly the same as that of Willem, a man. She was also a bit girlie, as she preferred to wear cute aprons and frilly dresses.
And of course, she wasn’t a faerie. Just as she said herself, she was a troll. A massive, demonic race that lived as neighbors to people, exchanged smiles with them, and happily devoured them.
“Don’t say it like it’s a joke. I’ve been rude to you since the day I met you.”
“How awful! What should I think of a man who says that seriously?”
Ash-colored clouds began to spread faintly in the sky. They should hurry.
They piled more sheets onto the mountain of laundry that spilled from the basket.
“You don’t have to worry. You’re the only person in this entire world right now who I can act like this around.”
“Hmm. That was a strange pickup line. I think my heart just skipped a beat.”
“I’ll say it again—you and all your people need to go relearn the official language of this island cluster.”
“Boo! But you talk to Chtholly and the others so nicely!”
Plop—a single raindrop left a gray smudge by his feet.
“Come on, move your hands not your mouth.”
“I know, I know!”
They rushed around, taking down the laundry.
The rain poured as if from an overturned bucket.
Dark clouds that seemingly came from nowhere covered the entire sky. Though it was still early in the day, it was as dark as night outside.
“Just in time. We would’ve had to wash everything all over again if we took any longer.”
They’d finished putting away the laundry and were now on their way to Nygglatho’s room, upon her suggestion to take a tea break.
“And what is it you need?” Nygglatho suddenly asked as she lit the fireplace.
“Huh?”
“Didn’t you come to me on the roof because you needed something?”
“Oh…” Now that she mentioned it, she was right. “Well…I was just thinking, shouldn’t we be hearing whether or not they’re all right at some point soon?”
“Oh, you mean Chtholly and the others?”
That was exactly right. He nodded silently.
“I believe I heard this fight would take exceptionally long.”
“I heard that, too, but it’s been two weeks! Aren’t we going to hear anything, like if they’re okay or how much longer it’ll take?”
“No.”
“Why the immediate response?!”
“Why? Well, that’s just the way it is… Do you wish to hear the details?”
He sat down silently in the chair she motioned to with her gaze.
She began to place the tea set, which seemed to magically appear from thin air, on the small table.
“You know about the girls’ enemy, Timere, yes?”
“Only a bit from documents. Its properties are unknown, a tenacious thing, and its size and strength are in direct proportion.”
“Yes. It is so tenacious because it grows and divides so quickly. No matter how much we kill, it uses its own corpse as a shield and creates a new self from the insides that aren’t dead yet. Not only that, but it actually gets a little stronger every time. Still, if they’re fighting against its small pieces as they always do, then it will reach its division limit if they persevere and kill every piece at least ten times. But the size of it now could easily exceed two hundred layers, so that will take some time.”
Of course, the girls wouldn’t be fighting twenty-four hours straight every day. They would come fully prepared, knowing it would be a long battle. A large number of the stalwart lizardfolk artillery forces would be accompanying the faeries in order to buy them time to rest.
So while it was tempting to just tell the muscly lizards to fight on their own, the enemy could not be substantially damaged if not for the faeries equipped with the Carillon, and since that was the very reason the faeries existed in the first place, there was not much that could change that.
“Since we’ve decided not to have Chtholly open the gates to the faerie homeland, it’s only a question of whether they can keep fighting until th
ey’ve dismantled the final shell. However, there is no way to tell how many layers of shells there are or how many they’ve destroyed so far. That is why there is no telling how much longer the fight will last.”
Nygglatho continued, stating lightly that it would end someday, and that since they had managed to dominate it with basic firepower, then the odds weren’t too bad.
“Then they should at least notify us if they’re still okay.”
“They’ve covered the area with layered control encampments, so without airships flying, communication crystals won’t work, either. And on top of that, the air currents around the area are irregular, so the option of having winged races do some work is also out. The most we can do is confirm from a very far distance that the fight is still going on.” Nygglatho fiddled with her red hair, twirling it around the tip of her finger. “Well, that’s apparently why we receive no contact when the girls are fighting. I asked almost the exact same things you did when I first came here. And the answer I got was almost just the same as I’ve told you. Is there anything else you want to ask?”
“…No.” He dropped his shoulders. “You look awfully calm about this right now. You used to it?”
Nygglatho sighed deeply. “Not entirely. My heart is pounding. I haven’t had any appetite.”
He would have been overjoyed to hear that if he took it out of context.
“But no matter why, the elders shouldn’t be the first to panic while the littlest ones are just going about their business, yes?”
“Well, sure.”
The kettle on the fire began to steam.
He watched Nygglatho out of the corner of his eye as she ran about preparing the tea and muttered sullenly, “I’d no idea doing nothing but waiting would be this hard.”
Nygglatho painted a grin over her worried expression. “Glick told me you were saying such slick things at first. That you trusted the children, so you would accept whatever outcome.”
“Not just at first. I haven’t changed my mind since then. But…I didn’t think it’d take this long back then. I’m not uneasy or depressed or anything. I’m just…starting to worry.”
“Just starting to worry?”
“Just starting to worry. Something wrong with that?”