by Akira Kareno
“You know this is booty Glick and friends salvaged from the surface. I’ve been borrowing it all this time for free. I’ve gotta give it back at some point.”
“It was yours on the surface in the first place, though, wasn’t it?”
“If you put it like that, then we could even say that a number of the talismans here should be mine. Because even though I couldn’t use higher-class swords, I’ve tried a good number of consumer-level Carillon… Oh, and by the way, what happened to Tiat’s sword?”
“We’re still in the process of testing several candidate swords. Right now, Ignareo has become a leading contender.”
“That’s kind of a low-class sword, huh. That’s a good thing.”
“It seems so. I am not exactly sure how I should feel, since I can’t be happy about this in my position.”
Only Braves could use the Carillon.
Braves were those who required strength: people who inherited lost techniques, people who were burdened with tragedy at birth, people who dedicated their whole hearts and souls with vows. Only those who had backgrounds that prompted others to say, “They look like they could be very powerful,” could actually gain that power in reality.
Being unable to wield a greater Carillon meant their necessity for that strength was not too powerful. It meant that one didn’t have to give up their life for nonsense like fate or tragedy or vows.
“Tiat herself said she wanted a sword as strong as Seniorious, you know. She said she wanted to be strong enough one day to work in Miss Chtholly’s place.”
“I completely and totally understand how she feels, but I don’t think that’s possible.”
With a wry smile, he reached out to the cup of tea she’d prepared for him.
He took a sip. It was more bitter than the tea he’d gotten used to drinking in this room. He really didn’t know very much about tea, but maybe she used different leaves this time.
“It’s not easy to gain her recognition. That’s why I’m here now.”
During a lull in their conversation, Willem’s earlier conversation with Chtholly suddenly crossed his mind, and he told Nygglatho about it.
Just as he finished, she suddenly burst out into laughter, grasping her stomach as she did.
“That wasn’t supposed to be funny, y’know.”
“I—I knooow. That’s why it’s funnyyy!” Her voice shook, clearly a sign her abdominal muscles were still spasming. “You do understand what’s going on, but you truly are the awkward one, aren’t you?!”
“I don’t get it.”
“She was happy you would treat her the same way as me.” Nygglatho let him in on the secret as she wiped the corners of her eyes.
“…So why would she be happy to be treated the same way as a troll?”
“I am her number one rival in love, the one she’s most cautious of. To her, treating us both the same way means, at the very least, that you see her as a woman, right?”
“Oh, okay.”
He took one of the scones, put a dollop of apricot jam on top, then threw it into his mouth. It was pretty sweet, but since the bitterness of the tea still lingered on the tip of his tongue, it didn’t taste too heavy. He was a little impressed with how attentive to detail she was.
“…Rival in love?”
“That was a bit of a delayed reaction, wasn’t it?”
“I wasn’t expecting that at all. It took me a while to process it. Is it, what, that you and I could end up glued together in Chtholly’s eyes?”
“Hmm, well, it sounds like it needs a little more supplementary information than that, but exactly.”
“Okay, that makes sense,” he said, munching on his scone. “I guess you are the only adult woman here, and I guess her way of thinking isn’t too unnatural for a girl her age, huh?”
“Hmm, you’re not entirely wrong, but there’s one thing I hope you don’t mind correcting?”
“What thing?”
“You don’t need to say her age. Because I do have the same opinion as her, you know.”
He didn’t quite grasp what she meant right away, so he thought for a bit.
He unconsciously drank some more tea as he thought.
“I think rather highly of you as a man in general.”
He choked.
The bitter tea slipped deep into his windpipe. He couldn’t breathe. He struggled.
Nygglatho rested her chin on her folded hands, gleefully watching Willem as he writhed in pain.
“I’m rather serious when I think about being with someone like you. You’re promising, mean to trolls but kind on the inside, we’ve already proven that we respect each other’s work, you like children, we have similar tastes in food, we’re both featureless, you’re not bad looking, you could probably subdue my father without a scratch if he starts acting up once he’s gotten drunk, and most importantly, you look delicious. See? You’re a real catch.”
“Wait. Some of the stuff in the second half sounded weird.”
“So you accept that the first half wasn’t so bad?”
That wasn’t it.
That wasn’t supposed to be the case, but he couldn’t express it well.
“More importantly, they say that all the various races related to fiends branched off from the emnetwiht. Tribally, we aren’t so far apart. So I may be able to provide a family for you that is related to you by blood. That should be the most definite reason for you to continue living in this world now. I would be so chuffed if I could provide happiness for you five, ten years down the line. That is the biggest reason why I wouldn’t mind so much being tied with you.”
He didn’t really know how to react to what Nygglatho said.
The only thing he understood was that she was serious. Her mischievous smile and teasing quips were nothing more than her own way to hide her embarrassment.
“Well, my hopes to make sure Chtholly is happy are more important, so I won’t be too aggressive in shooting her down. Yet she can’t just ignore me due to the way she feels. Does that make sense?”
“Can I just ask you an awful question?” Willem groaned as he asked, stewing in his self-loathing.
“What is it?”
“Can I pretend I never heard any of this?”
“You truly are awful. But do whatever you want.” She chuckled.
It didn’t seem like her feelings were hurt. But Willem still couldn’t bring himself to look at her.
3. The Large and Youthful Lizard
There were two kinds of people in the world:
Those who could have a cup of tea and calm down, and those who couldn’t.
Island No. 68, the town center, the usual café.
The semifer waiter was so terrified of them that Willem almost took pity. He felt bad for thinking about how he just wanted the guy to grin and bear it.
“There’s no tea at this shop, so I always wonder what I should have to drink…” Nygglatho tilted her head, eyeing the menu plate out of the corner of her eye.
“I ssshall have a medicssinal drink,” the massive lizardfolk—Limeskin—announced with solemnity, his gigantic body balanced precariously on the tiny chair.
“Uh… I guess I’ll have coffee.”
“I was thinking the same… May I order some food as well?”
Without waiting for the other two at the table to answer, Nygglatho beckoned the waiter. She gave him their order, then unnecessarily added with a great portion of playfulness, “I’ll eat you if our order doesn’t come quickly enough.”
“Seriously? You shouldn’t threaten people so unreasonably like that.”
“I wasn’t threatening him. It was just a cute joke with a bit of bite.”
She puffed out her cheeks.
“Okay, well, there’s a bookstore on the corner there. Today should be the day when you go buy yourself a dictionary for Regule Aire’s official language.”
“Gosh, again with the teasing?”
“I’m just being considerate.”
Willem re
sted his elbow on the table and his cheek on his hand and narrowed his eyes at Nygglatho.
Limeskin opened his mouth, and the quiet rattling sound of his laugh spilled forth.
“You two are quite clossse, aren’t you?”
“Not at all.”
One first needed to be aware of a lack of common sense in order to learn about common sense. In order to correct the mistakes of this mistaken troll, who thought she was acting with common sense, the person beside her had to explain to her in detail what was right and what was wrong. And Willem just so happened to be the only person around who could do that. So that was what he was doing. That was all.
“…And so? Why are we meeting like this today? There has to be a reason why you brought this big lizard, who was enjoying his privacy, all the way out here, right?”
“Oh? You can ssee thiss iss not within our current military affairsss?”
“Anyone can tell just by looking at you.”
Now that he thought about it, he sort of felt like he’d come across Limeskin a good number of times: the rickety tower on Island No. 28, the harbor on Island No. 68, and the Winged Guard headquarters in Collina di Luce on Island No. 11.
In every single encounter, he was wearing his (probably custom-made) military uniform. The combination of his large stature and uniform gave an imposing, overpowering feeling, and it truly left a strong, lasting impression.
And yet, his outfit now…
“What kind of fashion sense is that?”
“It isss my daughter’ss choice. I am quite pleasssed with it.”
“………Okay.”
It was a bit…rough around the edges.
He wore a linen shirt and a leather jacket. It was the kind of style that young orcs were really into, with a number of garish threads embroidered on the shoulder. His whole look brought about an exquisite sense of unease, like it matched yet didn’t quite match the milky-white scales that covered the man’s body.
“Ssshe iss a beautiful girl, with sssssmooth ssssscaless, like her mother.”
“I’m not listening.”
Willem hadn’t known Limeskin even had a daughter in the first place.
Oh, he knew what he was up to. He was going to start bragging about his daughter to Willem, huh? Then that meant he had to be prepared for some counter-bragging. While they weren’t related by blood and he had no intention whatsoever of comparing looks, no one could beat the combined power of his kids’ adorableness and preciousness!
But if he spoke his mind, he might find himself caught in quicksand, so he clamped his mouth shut and kept himself in check.
“Willem. It’s written all over your face that you want to brag about your own daughters in return.”
That was Nygglatho. He at least wanted her to appreciate how he didn’t actually say it out loud.
“Asss commander of our earlier lossss, I have been ordered a ssusspensssion. I sssshall not be wearing the Guard’ss uniform for a while now.”
“That’s a pretty lousy punishment, too.”
The “earlier loss,” the battle that led to the fall of Island No. 15, wasn’t supposed to be the kind of battle where responsibility landed on the shoulders of the frontline commander anyway. But assuming it was his responsibility, then a suspension was much too easy of a punishment.
So in essence, this suspension was just for appearances, though Willem wasn’t sure if it was meant for the satisfaction of the people inside or outside the Winged Guard. It was probably just a measure to forcibly put a finishing touch to the end of the incident that was the island’s fall, since there were too many trade secrets at play that prevented proper disclosure of information to the public.
Organizations were a kind of organism. Once its body became large enough, it required some extra labor and irrationalities to keep on living. It seemed all those bothersome parts of organizations hadn’t changed since the past.
“I do not need pity. A warrior’ss body ssometimesss requiresss a ressst. I am quite enjoying myssself.”
Oh yeah. A (probably) grown man was just getting excited over his rare chance to dress up.
“Um, ahem.” Nygglatho cleared her throat deliberately. “Should we perhaps get to the topic at hand soon?”
Oh, he’d brought up the subject himself, but he’d completely forgotten.
“First: I want to brainstorm with the two of you how we should be handling Chtholly from now on. Her current condition is unlike any of the previous faeries.”
“Hmm.”
Then came the food they ordered, the plates and silverware clattering on the tray. There was the pungent medicinal drink, two cups of coffee, and a plate with a thick-cut bacon sandwich.
“…Since mature faerie soldiers are weapons, there is no retirement or honorable discharge within the system of handling them. Though she is no longer a faerie, she is still, on paper, being treated like a faerie soldier. I want the management in the Alliance and the Guard to call an exception, so that we may let her step down from the front line.”
“Ssshe isss no longer a faerie—isss thiss indeed true?”
That was the right question to ask. Someone tossing away the race they were born with and switching to something else was an absurd idea—and not easily believed. Willem still felt the same way. However—
“I checked many times. But the conclusion was still the same.”
If the very person who would be the first to doubt those conclusions told him so, then he couldn’t cling to logic much longer.
“Why not change the system itself? It’s obviously not compatible with the current situation, yeah?”
“The very process for changing it would take time. Years, at worst. If she received orders to go on a mission in the meanwhile, just once, then there would no longer be any point.”
“…To sssome extent, I am able to control which warriorsss are dessignated for missssionss.”
“I know. That’s why I invited you here today, so I may ask you directly to do something ‘to some extent.’”
“Asss a member of the Guard, I cannot resspond to ssuch a corrupt proposssal.”
He took a sip of the medicinal drink. His elderly-looking appearance clashed with his youthful attire.
Now that he thought about it, how old was this lizardfolk anyway? A characteristic of their race, which had the greatest variance of stature among individuals, was that the age of maturity varied greatly depending on individual differences. Those of large stature spent a very long time growing up. He could imagine that this individual, who had a daughter and was in the high position of first officer, had to have lived for quite a long time to accomplish both of these things.
“But now, I am a private cssitizen on holiday. I have earnessstly consssidered your requessst.”
“Thank you, truly.”
Nygglatho gave a very grown-up small sigh of relief.
For better or for worse, the act looked like it suited her real age.
There was a bit of a different air about her from when she was dealing with the little kids at the faerie warehouse. She was like a sister much older than him, like a mother close in age. This, too, was just another one of the many faces she wore.
“…Hey. There’s something I just thought of, listening to you guys.”
He didn’t like how adults did things. He didn’t do very well with that.
But it was probably the same for the other two. So he probably shouldn’t be worrying too much about what he was or wasn’t good with right now.
“There’s a Great Sage, yeah? How connected is he to the Guard?”
Limeskin’s shoulders shuddered slightly.
“That man isss the greatessst point of conssult for the Winged Guard. He hasss very few officssial authoritiesss, but hisss voice and influencsse hold great power.”
“Perfect. So go ahead and announce this to the Guard so that this great point of consult hears you: The second enchantments officer has chosen Chtholly Nota Seniorious as the perfect sample for e
xperimentation that might shed light on the very mysterious ecology of leprechauns.”
“Wha—?” Nygglatho blinked. “What are you talking about? Experiment?”
“The enchantments officer is a research position, right? Then requesting equipment and material for research should be an obvious right. Even though it’s just a title, I should be able to make this request. And if it goes through, then we can treat Chtholly independently of the other faeries, at least for the time being.”
“That’s only if it goes through, you know. And by Great Sage, you mean the Great Sage from the Regule Aire creation myth, right? Why are we talking about him, of all people?”
“We’re old friends. We’re used to asking for weird stuff from each other.”
Nygglatho looked at him as though she was gazing down on a pitiful being. Looked like she didn’t believe him. Oh well, it really wasn’t important enough to make her believe him.
“Now what sssort of experiment would thiss be, exactly?”
“An observation on the process of recovery from a character breakdown and how natural stressors in an environment different from a battlefield might affect that. Tell ’im we’ll be prescribing her special medicine as we watch her condition, too.”
“…And so?”
“We’ll take her away from battle and just let her live a regular daily life. And while we’re at it, we’ll also ask for a special budget for food for the faerie warehouse sometimes.”
“And will the path presssent itssself if the Great Sssage hearsss of thisss plan?”
“Yeah.”
During their conversation on Island No. 2, Willem saw how greatly he and the Great Sage differed in perception. The Sage was the protector of Regule Aire and looked at everything from a long-term point of view. So he was detached emotionally when he looked at the faeries and could view them as pure military power. That was the kind of person he had to be; if not, then Regule Aire would have fallen long ago. That aside, Willem had a hard time accepting his way of thought and didn’t want to be like him at all.
If he were to pass judgment from the Sage’s point of view, he could not treat the single faerie Chtholly any differently, even if she was indeed the compatible user of the powerful Seniorious. He needed a system to preserve and maintain the required level of firepower for the long-term in order to keep the world safe. Those at the top should not be futilely pouring resources into Chtholly, one girl who may never be able to return to the battlefield.