by Mamare Touno
“By the way, Princess Raynesia.”
With a smile like a flower, Fevel enthusiastically changed the subject. Beside her, Apretta was chuckling in a way that, while adorable, wasn’t suitable for an aristocratic young lady.
Feeling apprehensive for no real reason, Raynesia stiffened on the sofa and tilted her head. “What is it?” Being able to respond elegantly on reflex in absolutely any given situation was her specialty. In aristocratic society, this ability was both a powerful weapon and armor, but right now, it was no help to her at all.
“What’s happened between you and Sir Krusty?”
“Is he hiding?”
“How is your relationship progressing?”
“Is he in bed?”
Fevel was making fun of her, but Apretta’s straightforward questions were hard to parry. Raynesia camouflaged her dry laugh by turning it into a cough, focusing even more of her attention on her expression. It was the gesture of feigned innocence that earned her description “the royal shrine maiden of the silver moon, lamenting the twilight.”
“During the capture of Seventh Fall, Master Krusty vanished from the turmoil of the battlefield.”
Raynesia let her gaze fall to the table.
If they looked into her eyes, they might stumble onto the fact that she wasn’t all that worried.
As a matter of fact, it was ridiculous to wish for Krusty’s safety.
He was the sort of person who’d spread chaos and grown drunk on blood in the midst of the great goblin army. Worry from a fragile Person of the Earth like Raynesia probably wouldn’t be of any use to him.
In the first place, she was really more irritated than anything.
She was being subjected to questions like these because that bespectacled menace had gone missing without permission. Apretta and Fevel aside, a barrage of similar inquiries and concern was raining down on her. The idea that Krusty was off skipping work somewhere (that had to be it!), shoving the troublesome role onto Raynesia, made anger boil up inside her.
“He’s—vanished?”
“I hadn’t heard a word about that!”
“I’m very sorry. Since it involves the Adventurers, I was unable to write about it in my letters.”
The two of them had given thin, ladylike shrieks.
It was probable that, as befitted sheltered young ladies, they were imagining a strong, noble knight being swallowed up by a monster horde, fighting valiantly, but collapsing in a pool of blood, no longer able to move, and breathing his last. Even though it’s nothing of the sort, Raynesia thought.
He was bound to be idly drinking tea somewhere, enjoying his holiday (the sort Raynesia couldn’t take!) to the fullest.
Disguising the fact that she hadn’t sent news of Krusty in a letter because just thinking about him was annoying, she went on in a heavy tone.
“I’m pitiful. Do forgive me, please.”
The words she’d murmured with downcast eyes had meant Do you think we could stop talking about this now? but it didn’t seem to have gotten through to the good-natured pair.
“You must have been so lonely, Princess Raynesia.”
“I, Apretta, couldn’t bear it if my beloved knight vanished in battle.”
Their worried expressions sent a twinge through her heart.
She wished they wouldn’t put it like that. She really wasn’t worried at all. She was simply irritated because he’d disappeared with no warning, and if he’d just send word about how he was getting along, she wouldn’t mind a bit if he stayed missing.
No, that wasn’t true. Both his disappearance and the fact that he’d left without permission were problems. It wasn’t fair that Raynesia had to do all the bothersome official duties alone. Krusty should be toiling away, too. If he hadn’t disappeared, this would never have happened. Unforgivable.
In a word, what Raynesia was harboring wasn’t unease or worry, but the desire to see an injustice redressed. If he was a knight, shouldn’t he carry out his duties? When she thought about it that way, she grew even more disgusted. And anyway, what was that “beloved knight” business about? It was like something out of a story. Apretta was too much of a dreamer.
“…Huh?”
However, Raynesia—who’d been taken aback by the word beloved—noticed a silver band on Apretta’s slim finger. Then, when she slid her gaze over to check, she found a similar item on Fevel’s hand.
She couldn’t believe it, but it was a fact.
Tiny, simple, silver circlets.
Raynesia knew. They were jewelry known as “rings,” meant to be worn on a finger.
Elissa, who’d been waiting by the windows, nodded once, keeping her eyes downcast. From the way she looked, she seemed to be saying, You’ve spotted something good, Princess.
“Is it possible that, um…you two are…?”
“Hmm? Oh. Um.”
Dusk was approaching in Akiba, and golden lamplight streamed into the now-silent drawing room.
In the space of a breath, Apretta flushed bright red. Next to her, Fevel was squirming, her hands pressed to her cheeks. The silver rings on their fingers were unmistakable proof that they were engaged.
“Yes. That’s right. Erm… No, no, no, no, this isn’t, um, it isn’t much of a ring, you know? He isn’t a great general like Sir Krusty, or a great hero; he’s merely one of the domain’s lowly knights. Exactly! Because we struck a deal close to home, and this was the result.”
“You say that, Apretta, but I seem to recall you splitting that pudding with him.”
Not only that, but apparently, he’d traveled here with them.
“You were boasting about your fiancé, too, Fevel! About how he was wonderful, and how soft his hair was. About how he was the strongest in the domain. And on top of that, he even gave you a cape!”
Hers as well, then.
“Yours picked out a hair fastener for you, didn’t he, Apretta? Here, Princess Raynesia, this is the one. ‘Pearls suit your hair,’ he said.”
This was not in the report, Raynesia thought, but that probably wasn’t because the lady-in-waiting had been remiss. Nobody would think to report lovers’ sweet nothings. Especially not if the contents were the sort that would cause heartburn.
The strength was draining out of her.
Raynesia felt like praying. Why am I the only one who has to end up in a situation like this?
Her expression grew sad, for a reason that had nothing to do with Krusty’s disappearance. When they saw her, possibly because even they regretted what they’d done, the other two ended their conversation instantly. Relieved, Raynesia forced a smile and raised her head.
The way she looked seemed to have been interpreted in a way that was absolutely unrelated to her internal state. Even Raynesia didn’t really understand, but it was the reaction described as “the noble silver princess, enduring sorrow.”
Apretta and Fevel began apologizing: “I’m terribly sorry, Princess Raynesia.” “We’ve made you witness such a shameless fuss, when you’re unable to contact Sir Krusty.” “No war god of his caliber would lose easily. Do cheer up, Princess Raynesia, please.” “If you lose heart, Sir Krusty will be too worried to kick the enemy to pieces.”
That would never happen, all right? Master Krusty, losing. Or being troubled. And on top of that, there’s absolutely no way whatsoever that he’d be concerned about me!
Looking down, Raynesia was assailed by that sort of irritation, and an odd loneliness. She didn’t really understand, but it was probably the stress of conducting official business all on her own. Her chest had begun to hurt, and she stopped being able to give responses that befitted the daughter of a noble family.
Why did she have to feel this unfair emotion? Princess Raynesia of the dukedom of Maihama just couldn’t understand it. In all the time since she was born, up to the present, she’d never felt like this, not during any sort of party or strict lesson, or even during the hectic whirl of official business in Akiba.
It was a wretched, dr
eary feeling that prickled at the inside of her nose and stuck in her chest, making it ache.
The only thing she understood was that all the blame lay squarely with that mind-reading menace.
4
“Dammit to hell!”
Don’t screw with me. Don’t you dare screw with me.
Zhu Huan, guild master of the Lelang Wolf Cavalry, mentally cursed as he and his Wise Wolf raced along.
Thin, silklike fragments were beginning to drift from the low-hanging clouds, dark like India ink. It was powdery snow—unlike the heavy, wet stuff, it didn’t sap his strength directly, but it danced in the wind, obstructing his vision. In the midst of it, two columns wound through the wilderness, long and snakelike. This was the group Zhu Huan was leading.
As he watched, the distant mountains faded into dim silhouettes.
It would be hard to run all night in weather like this. They’d need to find a place to camp. Even if they couldn’t sleep, if they didn’t warm themselves by the fire and get something hot to drink, even if they were Adventurers who boasted inexhaustible strength, they’d freeze. On top of that, the breed of Great Wolves that the party was riding had limited active hours.
The hard ground, which was covered in dead grasses, was like an accumulation of the cold itself.
The wolves headed west, kicking round rocks that had been hidden in the shadows of the grass. On the other side of the thick clouds, the sun must have set, because the cold had grown more severe. The Cold Resistance sigil on the mantle he’d wrapped around himself was emitting a wavering, aqua-blue magic light. It was a seal invested with magic that warded off the cold.
The sigil had been carved in by a Sigilmancer, in order to make a production-class magic item. Back when this had been a game, because their low performance limits had kept them from being a match for secret-class items, production-class items had been treated as stopgaps for middle-ranking Adventurers. However, at present, people appreciated that they could give you the exact abilities you wanted, so they were used on a daily basis.
Wrapped securely in these cold-resistant mantles, the elite Lelang Wolf Cavalry unit plunged through the pale darkness and swirling snow.
When they stopped to rest, it was just before midnight.
This vast wasteland held extremely few places that were suitable for camping. There were a few basins and ruins that blocked the wind slightly, but there were no guarantees that these would be conveniently located on their route. The normal routes for traders ran between places like these, using them as stepping-stones. However, all that was required from tonight’s journey was speed, so they just kept pushing west through the wilderness.
Conditions were bad as well.
The flurries of fine snow had thoroughly chilled the ground, and on top of that, it was beginning to get wet. All they could do was pile up thick carpets—even though they might get damaged—without holding back, and set up curtains as windbreaks. The band began their camp by digging up the hard, rigid ground with their sword points, starting a fire with a flame spell, and hanging a pot over it.
While this was a rest, it wasn’t so that they could actually sleep. They were toughing it out for a few hours, in order to get through the coldest time of the day.
Quite a few of the lower-ranking wolves ran out of time and vanished into the darkness. They’d need to wait four hours before they could summon them again. The members who had middle-rank mounts with summoning times of over forty hours had buried themselves in their reclining wolves’ fur, sharing what little warmth there was. On Zhu Huan’s orders, the members who had even higher-ranking summoning pipes went on ahead to reconnoiter, breaking off their precious rest with nothing more than a cup of plain hot water, and they melted into the darkness.
“GM, will we catch up to them?”
Asking about the current situation, a swarthy-skinned member’s voice was tense. It wasn’t the way he usually spoke, but on a frozen night like this, it was understandable. In the darkness, his companions’ eyes were turned his way, faintly reflecting the glow of the flames. Everyone wanted an update on the situation.
“Ma Bao, the sub-guild master who stayed in town, sent an additional report. As we figured, it wasn’t the Singing Sword Company. It’s the Ruby Qilin. The Red King faction picked a fight.”
“What’s going on? Did they attack?”
“If this turns into war, it’ll be as ugly as it gets. There are five thousand of them. Shimanaikui doesn’t have a decent defensive wall.”
“Hey, Chief,” called a rough voice. “Don’t tell me we’re running.”
Zhu Huan shook his head. “Of course we’re not. We worked hard to get to that city, and we’re finally used to the place. Like we could actually throw it away! Shimanaikui isn’t just a base for exchange between the east and the west. There are lots of People of the Earth living there, too. We’ve even got a few married guys in the guild. It’s real irritating, but you know we can’t break them up.”
Who are those guys?! Getting girls—now that’s inexcusable behavior. Zhu Hua smirked at the cheerful jeers.
“On top of that, it doesn’t look like it’s gonna be that easy for ’em. See, their goal isn’t Shimanaikui. Or, well, it’s probably on the list, but they’re after something bigger. According to intel an old friend of mine who stayed back in Yandu leaked to me, it’s pretty likely it’s the Ritual of Coronation.”
“The one that rewrites the ownership for the whole surrounding area?”
“But that’s a guild war, ain’t it?”
“There’s no ‘ain’t it’ there. It’s a guild war, period. The bastards just touched off an all-out guild war, and it’s gonna pull in the whole server.”
The Ritual of Coronation was the climax of the guild wars system. If a guild offered prayers from one of the Coronation Altars built in several areas, then expended the guild points they’d earned previously, they could rewrite the right to rule over the whole surrounding area so that it belonged to their guild. It was a variation on the zone purchase system that had been implemented in Elder Tales; it was a high-level system that could affect a wider range.
Of course, if another guild stole that altar and conducted a new Ritual of Coronation, they’d lose their sovereign rights, but the authority was attractive, and they’d want to protect it even if it meant beefing up their defenses.
During the days of the game, only very limited areas had been stages for guild wars. They were Shanghai’s equivalent, Dadu; Beijing’s equivalent of Yandu; and Yangdu, the equivalent of Guangzhou.
The wide areas that had these player towns at their centers had been the “rewards” in the guild wars. Next to these reward areas, there had been combat areas that were equipped with perilous mountains and Coronation Altars. The guild that conquered the combat area could conduct the ritual and claim the reward. That had been the outline of the guild war system.
However, that wasn’t how it played out in reality.
Zhu Huan continued.
“At this point, we don’t know whether it’s been like that since the days of the game or not, but those three altars weren’t the only ones. Or, well, they might have multiplied, but… Anyway, altars were discovered in every area. Mount Lang Jun is one of ’em. The guild wars turned into real wars.”
The “coronation” was a ritual in which a king notified heaven and earth that he had ascended the throne and gave thanks that the world was at peace. In a manner of speaking, it was a declaration to all of creation that a king had been crowned. In that sense, it was understandable that it made for a fitting “final blow” in a guild war. In ancient Chinese history, it had famously been performed by the first Manchu emperor. On that occasion, it had apparently been conducted on Mount Tai Shan, a mountain that was considered sacred in Taoism.
That said, the coronation didn’t necessarily have to be held on Mount Tai Shan. That was how it was in Theldesia, at least. If that had been the case, there wouldn’t have been Coronation Altars in three differ
ent places.
Evidently, there was no law that said those three places couldn’t become four or more places, either.
“From what I hear, all the mountains where the Coronation Altars are located have legends that say they’re connected to fairylands. Well, I mean, you’re reporting in to the heavenly immortals and the gods, so I guess they’d have to be. After all, in this world, unlike that one, we’ve got “immortals” in the form of the Ancients. So, see, if you follow that link, Mount Lang Jun fits the description, too, which means—”
The Crimson King faction had set their sights on that altar.
Zhu Huan told his companions so, flatly.
True, this situation might have been better than a concrete war. For example, if Shimanaikui became the stage of a raid for the Adventurers, not only would the town’s facilities and its precious farmland be destroyed, but it was very likely there would be deaths among the People of the Earth. For the Ritual of Coronation, Adventurers could just settle things with other Adventurers in combat areas: places with no production facilities, such as the wilderness, the mountains, or dungeons.
However, on the other hand, it was a terribly cruel system. At a time when the rights to ownership of the city in which they lived were being affected, the People of the Earth and Adventurers who didn’t have the scale or the combat strength to participate in raids couldn’t even resist.
It was possible for their fates to be decided before they were even aware of it. That was exactly what was going on now.
“According to the report, there are about thirty of them, same as us. Guild wars are like raids, so they probably got all their elites together. Mount Lang Jun hasn’t been confirmed as a raid zone, but we won’t know until we check it out.”
In ordinary Rituals of Coronation, guilds or guild alliances fought in combat zones, and the guild points they won as a result were offered at the ritual altar. The contest of forces in the combat zone was confirmed again in the ritual. However, that method was used to overturn the sovereignty to an altar that had already been occupied, in order to sufficiently weaken the defenders while simultaneously earning a lot of points. This time, since nobody had found the altar yet, the ritual would be conducted by the first ones there.