Noble Front

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  “You the one they call D?” asked a low voice. Wearing a coat, the speaker was as thin as baling wire, and his fingers were long.

  The third sat astride his horse saying nothing, but perhaps it should’ve come as no surprise that he didn’t speak. His entire face and head were hidden beneath a riveted iron mask.

  As was the custom on the Frontier, they all had longswords and rifles in cases hanging from the sides of their saddles, but the only other weapons they wore were a pistol on the hip of the one with the rings and a longsword on the back of the masked one. The man with the long fingernails was unarmed.

  “Damn, but you are one good-looking fella,” the man with the rings murmured in rapture.

  Apparently the other two weren’t about to gainsay him, and at that moment something heavy left them. Murderous intent.

  “You know who we are, right? You split our colleague’s belly open. Fella who goes by the name of Lascaux.”

  “That fatty?” the hoarse voice laughed, stunning them all.

  “You know, that don’t really suit your face. At any rate, allow us to introduce ourselves. I’m Ringard,” said the man with the rings. “The toothpick is Valen, and that’s Mask in the iron headgear. We’re working for Professor Chaney.”

  “What do you want?” D inquired.

  The three men looked at each other.

  “Now that’s more like it. That’s what your voice sounds like!” Ringard said, breaking into a grin.

  D fell as silent as an exquisite statue. Perhaps it was the work of the moonlight.

  “See, we heard you’d come to town. And we figured we’d see about meeting you once—before we had to tussle, that is.”

  “What, we ain’t gonna tussle now?” the hoarse voice asked.

  Ringard’s eyes seemed to rattle in his head. “Nope. The Professor hasn’t given us the word yet. He said he’d pay, but taking on the man they call D for that price is plumb stupid. The only reason we’re out here tonight is because we wanted a look at your face.”

  “You can’t get across here,” Valen said with a toss of his chin toward the moat. It was filled to the brim with black water.

  Advancing on his horse, D stopped by the side of the road. The pendant he wore on his chest gave off a blue light.

  Out in the darkness, there was a faint electronic sound from the vicinity of the drawbridge. The three warriors seemed astounded when the bridge slowly lowered.

  “How’d you swing that, mister?” Ringard inquired, his eyes wide.

  The bridge came all the way down. D immediately started across it. He acted as if the other three hadn’t been there from the very beginning.

  Once he’d vanished into the castle, Ringard remarked, “That’s one hell of a pretty boy—just off the chart.”

  “Just what I’d expect from D.”

  “We’d better hurry back. I don’t wanna stay here too long and wind up getting some kind of weird proposition from the grand duke.”

  The three of them wheeled their horses around and galloped off. Overhead, bats flitted.

  The Thunderer’s Ball

  Chapter 3

  I

  About an hour had elapsed since the start of the ball. It had hit a lull.

  Taking Duchess Elizabeth through the last turn, Grand Duke Bergenzy escorted her gracefully from the line of dancers and kissed the back of her hand before taking a glass of wine from a waiter who was passing by.

  Suddenly, Baron Agrippa addressed him, asking, “Is something worrying you?” Possessed of a massive form and no less than five chins, the perpetually smirking baron endeavored to plumb the depths of his dear friend’s consciousness.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t be coy with me. How many millennia have we known each other? The very fact that you didn’t down that whole glass of wine in one go is proof that you have troubles.”

  “Leave me be. It’s no concern of yours,” the grand duke replied, brushing back his golden mane with one hand.

  The baron smirked again, saying, “Apparently this D person has come to town. Filthy half-breed. An eternal curse on anyone of Noble blood who culls the Nobility.”

  The grand duke made no reply, gazing with apparent pleasure at the figures in tails and colorful gowns who continued to dance across the vast floor. Here and there bottles of champagne and wine from his private stock were being opened, and the laughter and chatter of men and women streamed continually through the night hall,

  “Or is it that other matter? Are you getting cold feet about offering technology to the lowly humans? Make up your mind quickly. The notion of Grand Duke Bergenzy, known across the eastern Frontier as the Thunderer, vacillating in a deal with humans is preposterous. What’s more, the request for blood from the village’s girls at regular intervals is laughable. If it’s human blood you desire, all you need do is force your way in through a window, hold them down, and drink your fill. You need not plead for an offering from those whose very sustenance you make possible—”

  There, the baron averted his gaze and drained the glass he held in his hand.

  “Orange juice?” the grand duke said, lowering his glare, which became a look of disappointment trained on the glass in the baron’s hand.

  “My apologies, but for generations those of the Agrippa line have had no tolerance for alcohol.”

  “In that case, don’t lecture me, you weakling.”

  “What are you saying? You may not have noticed, but this recent proposal by the humans presents very serious problems. Firstly, there’s the question of whether the lowly humans can even comprehend Noble science and technology. And if you do such a thing, the Nobility in other locales won’t sit still for it. You’ll be seen as a traitor who has besmirched the honor of the Nobility, and as likely as not you’ll be targeted by assassins until you’ve been reduced to dust.”

  “If such is the case, it might well be at the Sacred Ancestor’s discretion.”

  His tone, brimming with a strange tranquility, made the baron furrow his brow.

  Just then, a girl in a dress of a metallic azure hue curtseyed gracefully in front of the grand duke.

  “Would you do me the honor?” she asked, lifting her head ever so faintly.

  “Your face seems familiar. Is this your first ball?” the grand duke inquired cordially.

  “Indeed, your grace.”

  “Françoise, I am a terrible dancer. You would do better with someone else. How about Lord Dudley over there?”

  “For the last month, ever since I got this invitation, I’ve been telling myself my first waltz would be with the grand duke, your grace. I hope you’ll grant me this request.”

  Beside them, the baron rubbed his mitt-like hands together and made catcalls. One glare from the grand duke put an end to that.

  “I hope you shan’t regret this, Françoise. Shall we?”

  With a smile and an elegant gesture, the grand duke escorted the girl to the center of the ring formed by the waltz.

  Just as he was about to take the lead, a figure in electric blue walked over and whispered something in the grand duke’s ear.

  “Oh, so he’s come?” the grand duke said with a nod. There was laughter in his voice. “Prepare a welcome for him. Glickenheim and Johnston should do nicely. And they’re to last at least four minutes.”

  “Understood,” the verdigris-hued figure with the face of a handsome young man replied, nodding respectfully before leaving in due haste.

  “Some problem, your grace?” the girl inquired anxiously.

  “It’s nothing. Now, then,” the grand duke said, taking Françoise’s hand.

  Just then, the music halted. The band’s conductor looked around at the crowd and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are joined by the grand duke.”

  The hall was filled with cheers and applause.

  Turning the face of a philosopher toward the grand duke, he said, “Would you like to call the tune?”

  “‘Fascination.’”r />
  As soon as they began to play, a new light made the hall appear hazy. The candles that’d been burning in moderation all along now blazed with new life.

  As they finished the preparation and took the first step, Françoise kept repeating in her head, Un, deux, trois . . .

  “Are you familiar with the city called Paris?” the grand duke asked, his youthful countenance still turned away from Françoise. The waltz was danced without looking your partner in the face. As a result, even sworn enemies could be paired together.

  “Paris, you say?”

  “Yes. In the oh-so-distant past, in the days when mankind still fancied themselves the center of the world, the city was said to be one of the beacons of culture.”

  “But human culture . . .” Françoise began, her face twisting with scorn.

  “Quite right. It was never anything great. But I visited that city just once. Shall I bring you along next time?”

  “To a city that was never anything great?”

  “Yes.”

  “What could possibly be there?”

  As the girl gazed intently at him, the grand duke responded with a smile. “Let’s discuss it another time. This evening, you make your debut.”

  Unfortunately, Françoise had picked the wrong night for her debut. It was halfway through the tune when there was a murmur and everyone turned their eyes in the same direction. Someone had noticed a figure coming in from the veranda.

  “How gorgeous!” countless voices declared as one.

  Entering through a pair of glass doors left wide open, the figure in black with a longsword across his back had come to stand in the center of the hall without making a sound. The lavishly attired ladies and gentlemen swallowed their words and backed away. The hall had been covered by tension, fear, and rage—and outweighing them all was rapture. That was why they couldn’t speak. That was why their steps were exquisite even as they retreated. That was why when the visitor asked, “Where is Grand Duke Bergenzy?” his voice drew sighs.

  The grand duke looked down at his left arm. Françoise clung to it with a trembling hand. Gently placing his own hand atop it, the grand duke then removed the girl’s hand from his arm and stepped forward.

  “I am Grand Duke Bergenzy. And I would have your name, O gorgeous philistine!”

  “D.”

  The clamor rose, and the people of the night retreated still further. In their place, stalwart attendants stepped to the fore. Guards.

  “Stand back,” the grand duke commanded them.

  The men disappeared.

  “Seeing that the one known as the greatest Hunter of Nobility on the Frontier has come here, I take it it’s my life you’re after. I have no objection to that. Naturally, I will resist, though.”

  The air froze. D’s right hand had gone for the hilt over his shoulder.

  “Patience. I’m not sure whether you realize this or not, but I have a great many of the villagers here in the castle. I have but to snap my fingers and the entire castle will be blown away. Of course, we wouldn’t be harmed by that in the least by that, though.”

  His distinguished face split lengthwise. Cries of terror and astonishment rippled through the room only after D had broken the stance from his downward stroke. Collapsing on the spot, the grand duke turned to dust before his very eyes.

  “An illusion, eh?” the hoarse voice murmured.

  “Right you are,” the grand duke laughed proudly, having appeared in exactly the same spot. “Not even the man called D could distinguish it from the real thing. You see, I supervised the design and manufacture of weapons for the Sacred Ancestor.”

  The grand duke stepped forward. And his head went flying. No one had even seen the horizontal swipe D had made with his blade. Sailing in a massive arc, the grand duke’s head struck a wall more than sixty feet away before falling to the floor.

  “Someone, toss me back!” the severed head commanded.

  One of the guards raced over, scooped it up, and lobbed it back to the body that stood there patiently.

  Catching it with ease, the body returned the missing part to its rightful place. The grand duke’s grinning visage suddenly took on a shocked look—and the Nobleman disappeared.

  “Unbelievable,” said a third iteration of the grand duke, his eyes wide.

  Indescribable groans rose on all sides of him.

  “My illusions are composed of different particles than normal matter. They should be able to recover from any attack, yet you’ve destroyed two of them now. D, can your blade cut on a molecular level?”

  “Where’s the real you?”

  “Good enough. Come for me if you like, but know this first—”

  “I don’t accept any conditions.”

  “I see,” the grand duke said, shrugging his shoulders. Looking around at the group, he said, “Everyone, you have my deepest apologies, but you can see the situation that has developed. Until my return, I hope you’ll forget all about this turn of events and enjoy yourselves—and now, you must excuse me for a while. No one is to follow after me.”

  Just then, the performance ended. The band had continued playing “Fascination” without pausing for a second.

  “Nicely done,” the grand duke said, raising one hand in greeting to the conductor, who bowed to the Nobleman as he moved toward the door. D followed after the Nobleman, and the crowd parted for them without a word.

  The grand duke stopped in his tracks. The girl in the metallic azure dress was right in front of him.

  “I’ll be right back, Françoise—just as soon as I take care of this.”

  The two men went out into a corridor.

  They’d gone about three paces when they sensed someone behind them. Apparently they’d been followed.

  A figure in an electric blue cape stood before them. Raven-haired and with features unlike those of the grand duke or his other guests, he seemed to be of foreign blood.

  “Vyken—I ordered you not to come!”

  “But that would prevent me from doing my job,” he replied, the looks he gave the grand duke and D as sharp as any bird of prey’s.

  “Very well. And what of Glickenheim and Johnston?”

  “Both slain. The battle was decided in the blink of an eye.”

  “Those two? It would seem his title of the Frontier’s greatest Hunter of Nobility is more than just talk. Leave us.”

  Though the grand duke’s tone was soft, his word was apparently iron, and his faithful guard bowed and watched the two of them go.

  “You might not think it to look at me, but I’m quite a coward,” said Bergenzy. “No one else in the castle even knows where I stay. You will be an exception.”

  “Why’s that?” asked the hoarse voice.

  It was small wonder that the grand duke eyed D suspiciously before saying, “Because this seems likely to relieve my boredom.”

  The hoarse voice laughed, “Well, you’ve got more than your fair share of confidence. You’d fight this guy to stave off boredom?”

  The blue light from a cylinder at the end of the corridor tied the floor to the ceiling. The grand duke entered first, and D followed after him.

  “Have at you!” the grand duke exclaimed, becoming a blue silhouette.

  D felt every cell in his body burning. And he was aware of each and every one.

  “We’re being disintegrated!”

  His head split by the hoarse voice’s cry and the sensation of blistering heat, D still managed to remain conscious.

  The light faded.

  Apparently they were inside an enormous structure. Though D’s surroundings were sealed in darkness, he could sense the tremendous mass that lurked there. Any creature accustomed to living in a hospitable environment would probably hyperventilate at the thought of being there.

  Sticking his left hand out in front of himself, D slowly turned in a complete circle.

  “Not a clue what’s going on outside. He ain’t there, and it may be he’s pulled a fast one on us,” the hoarse voice s
aid, its tone composed despite the import of the words. It was probably accustomed to situations like this. “Let’s see what the closest thing is.” About three seconds later, the hoarse voice continued, “I’ll be damned. We’ve got some ridiculously big stone statues in front of us, to the rear, and to either side. Seems like Nobles really do admire the stupidest things.”

  “What is this place?” D inquired.

  “Not entirely sure, but my gut’s telling me it’s some kind of archives.”

  Narrowing his eyes a bit, D peered through the darkness.

  “We gonna wait and see what move Bergenzy makes, or will we—”

  “Apologies for my abrupt departure, O lovely assassin,” the grand duke announced in a tone so substantial it seemed you could strike it and make it ring like a gong. D tried to determine where the voice emanated from, but was unable to ascertain the location.

  “Just his voice,” the left hand groused.

  The Nobleman had no physical presence there.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t square off with you just yet. However, no matter how far I might run or whatever defensive measures I might employ, the man called D would undoubtedly tear the lid from my coffin. I led you here in order to prevent that very thing.”

  A low groan escaped D’s lips. He’d just weathered the sensation of a cold metallic blade slicing through his brain.

  There aren’t many things I must tell you. That’s what they had said.

  D realized that the “voice” had come from the stone colossi on all four sides of him. Had the “voice” waited beneath an unknown stony fortress for untold millennia for D?

  One. And there, the “voice” faded away.

  “‘There aren’t many things I must tell you,’” the grand duke said. “‘One’—Those are all the words we’ve been able to make out thus far. Over the span of five millennia. Telepathy isn’t an easy power for a Noble to acquire, but there are some with a rudimentary ability to catch thoughts, and there are devices for such purposes as well. Yet it took us five thousand years to decipher a single thought from the Great One. Have you no wish to learn the rest of it, D?”