Altina the Sword Princess: Loose Threads, page 15
This was a wharf used primarily for imports and exports, with a number of warehouses lining the shore beside the docks. With only the moonlight to illuminate their surroundings, one careless step might send them plummeting into the sea below. And of course, there were no handrails.
“I don’t see any ships...” Bastian murmured.
“It can’t drop anchor here or else it would stand out too much. It should arrive at two,” Roland explained. “It was a trial and a half trying to find a captain skilled enough to dock in such little light.”
Bastian and Elize followed behind Roland as he threw open the doors to one of the warehouses. All eyes were suddenly on them. There was a large gathering inside of around a hundred people, all carrying heavy parcels and stifling their breaths in the darkness.
“Eep!” Elize let out a faint shriek, taken aback by the ominous sight.
“Fret not, my good people. It is I,” Roland announced, raising a hand. A wave of relief spread across the hundred or so gathered.
“Hey, who are they...?” Bastian asked quietly.
“Others who want safe passage to Belgaria. We’ll load the one hundred and seven people here, as well as the goods in the warehouse one over, then leave before daybreak. The ship should be here soon...”
“You didn’t bring much with you.”
“I kept my luggage to a minimum. Just some food, and this here,” Roland said, gesturing toward the single book in his hand. There wasn’t anything on the cover.
“What’s that book?”
“You’re not going to laugh, are you?” Roland asked. He looked unusually bashful.
“Well, depends how funny it is.”
Elize gave him a light slap on the arm. “Don’t be rude, Bastian.”
“Well, I would like to get your opinion on it eventually...” Roland conceded. “This is a book I wrote.”
“You serious?!” Bastian exclaimed. “You were writing an adventure novel too?!”
“It’s just a collection of my thoughts, so nothing quite so pleasant. One would normally write it down on manuscript paper, then take it to a printer. If you’re lucky, bookmaking specialists might even buy the manuscript off of you.”
“But you wrote it by hand.”
“When I saw that you were writing a story, I decided that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to put my musings in order like this.”
“That’s so cool, don’t you think?! Much better than a plain bundle of paper!”
“...I can’t deny that,” Roland said, shying away a little.
Bastian had a broad grin on his face. Even Elize seemed to be caught up in their excitement, a smile playing on her lips.
But their high spirits didn’t last very long. Bastian was the first to notice it—a boisterous group of carriages were approaching. “What now?!” he exclaimed, bolting back to the doorway.
Roland came up beside him. “What’s wrong?”
“Carriages. Three—no, four.”
“What?! Is it the police?! The army?!”
“Too noisy for that... These aren’t unified forces. They’re almost like a bunch of... kids.”
“It really can’t get any worse than this...” Roland gulped, his voice quavering. “Bastian... It’s the Royal Soldiers.”
An uproar spread through the warehouse. The Royal Soldiers were a group who wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone they identified as Belgarian, and many of those gathered here were fleeing the country for precisely that reason. While a few of the one hundred and seven had guns and swords, the vast majority were unarmed civilians; it was questionable whether they would be able to mount a decent enough resistance.
Bastian checked to make sure his dagger was still at his chest. It was a weapon he had borrowed from the Belgarian treasury.
“So they’re here. I should have seen this coming...” Roland muttered to himself.
“They’re coming straight toward us,” Bastian warned. “Someone must have leaked our plans.”
“Khh...”
“Well, with over a hundred people involved, the information was bound to get out somewhere.”
“It seems I’m not fit to be a tactician after all... My scheme was full of holes.”
“Oi, what are you going to do?”
“There isn’t much I can do. I’m the one who set up this stowaway plan, so it’s only natural that I take responsibility for it. I’m going to buy you as much time as I can. Everyone else, flee through the back door.”
Roland rushed out of the warehouse. Bastian told Elize to stay behind, then quickly gave chase.
✧ ✧ ✧
Thirty men in total stepped out of the carriages that had come to a stop in front of the warehouse, the hunger in their eyes making them look like starved wolves. They carried swords and guns, and the stench of alcohol was thick in the air. The men were not wearing armor, simply donning thin blue overcoats atop their normal streetwear. It was presumably their uniform.
Standing at the front of the group was a short bald man who looked to be around twenty. He seemed to be the most important one among them.
“Well, well, well! What d’you think you’re doin’, gathering out ’ere in the dead of the night like this?” he sneered.
Roland moved to block the doors. “You are the Royal Soldiers, correct? We are returning to Belgaria, leaving before we can cause High Britannia any trouble. Is that not in your best interests?”
“Hah! You insane, mate? We’re at war ’ere. Killin’ the enemy’s the name of the game!”
“Hold on. Everyone here is a civilian. They haven’t violated any of High Britannia’s laws.”
“So what? Belgarians kill civilians like it’s nothin’!”
“Kuh... That... That may be so... In that case, I will abide by whatever you say, as a representative. Please, do not lay a hand on the others.”
“Gwa ha ha! Now that’s somethin’ I can get on board with. Hear that, boys? This guy wants to be our slave! Hya ha ha ha!”
The men all burst into laughter, some even starting to jeer Roland.
“Naaah! Don’t need ’im!”
“Come back when you’ve got a pair of honkers on you!”
“How ’bout you take a swim, four-eyes!”
The bald man at the lead drew his sword. “So you’ll do whatever I say, yeah? Well, I want to carve you up real good. You can be our first for the night.”
“...Do you have no conscience?” Roland asked.
“My friends all went to war and died to your buddies. That’s more than enough reason to take revenge.”
“That’s pure sophistry! It does not justify you breaking the law. You’re just using your friends as an excuse to sate your own sadistic desires! Don’t you think you’re doing them a disservice?!”
A sound argument only served to rile them up further. Roland spoke sense, and that was precisely what enraged them. The bald man in particular was already seeing red; he brandished his sword in a frenzy.
“Enjoy the sight of your own innards, ’Garian!”
Roland grit his teeth as the blade came down on him.
“Urgh—!”
“Hey now, you charged out on your own, so I thought you were gonna take them on. Either dodge, parry, or beat them down before they can reach you. It would’ve been pretty painful if that connected.”
His hand reaching over Roland’s shoulder from behind, Bastian had pinched the tip of the man’s sword, stopping it mid-swing.
The bald man’s eyes widened in shock. Naturally, he had never had this happen before.
“Th-The hell...? Who’re you?”
“My name’s not cheap enough for the likes of you.”
“Gah! Wh-Why? My sword... won’t move?!”
Push or pull as he might, the blade wouldn’t budge so much as an inch.
“You’ve never honed your sword skills or trained your body, but you’ve certainly had enough beer. And that’s barely even skimming the surface. Someone like you isn’t going to stand a chance beating me with brute force.”
“Grr...!”
“You’re killing Belgarians because your friends were killed, right? Then you can’t resent what I’m doing here, can you? ’Cos here you are, trying to murder my friends!”
Bastian pushed the sword back, easily knocking the bald man off balance. It took only a step to close the distance between them, then he hammered a kick into the man’s knee. A twang like a snapped rubber band resounded through the harbor, immediately followed by piercing screams.
“D-Did you kill him...?” Roland asked, clearly flustered.
“C’mon, did nobody teach you? People don’t die from a crushed kneecap. He won’t be walking anytime soon, though.”
The man’s leg had been bent in the opposite direction; he would likely never wield a sword again.
“Bastian... You’re... You’re going to die...” Roland choked, his lip trembling. “I told you to run... Why did you come save me...?”
“You’re smart, but you made two mistakes. First, his pals took the long way around. They’re waiting at the back door.”
“What?!”
“They’re complete amateurs, so it wasn’t hard to sense them. I’ve already told Elize, so that door’s staying shut tight. As for your second mistake—I’ll never be killed by nobodies like these!”
The others flew into a rage at the fall of their leader, screaming like wild beasts.
Bastian drew his dagger, the Vite Espace Trois. The blade, which had been tucked into a splendidly ornamented sheath, drew a slender triangle from its wide base to its tip. It was double-edged, thin, and light as paper, with rumors saying it could be swung fast enough to sever sound itself. At around 4 palms (30 cm) long, it was said to have been made to the same dimensions as one of the feet of L’Empereur Flamme, Belgaria’s founding emperor.
“It’s surprisingly annoying trying not to kill anyone!”
Bastian swiped horizontally at the first man to charge him, severing his cheap sword with a shrill scraping noise. As his opponent faltered, doubting his own eyes, Bastian landed a hard kick to his knee.
Before the man could even cry out in pain, the prince had already disarmed another in the literal sense.
Farther back was a man poised with a firearm. It was too dark for Bastian to make out his finger movements, leaving him no choice but to lurch more to the side than he normally would have to avoid the bullet’s potential path as he approached.
The man screamed as he squeezed the trigger, his poor stance and shaky aim making it even harder for Bastian to predict where the shot would go. It thankfully tore through the air some distance away, but that didn’t stop the thug from crying out, “He dodged a bullet?!”
No, you’re just a bad shot! Bastian wanted to reply, but it quickly occurred to him that this misconception worked quite nicely in his favor. He swung and severed the tendons in the man’s two wrists; had his opponent not been holding a gun, he only would have targeted his dominant hand.
Roland was trembling. “Y-Your movements aren’t human...”
“Quit being ridiculous! It’s all down to training!”
Bastian had trained as much as he could at the mansion, but suddenly going all out made his body feel heavy. By his estimate, he was only about half as agile as he would have been in perfect condition, but even that was enough to toy with drunkard amateurs. This was practically a warm-up compared to when he had plowed through the soldiers at Fort Greybridge.
Still, he was admittedly winded by the time he had dealt with the last man.
✧ ✧ ✧
Bastian wiped the sweat from his brow. “Phew... My skills really have started to dull...”
The defeated Royal Soldiers littered the ground, letting out pained groans as they writhed in agony. The entire spectacle had made Roland turn ghostly pale.
“Are you really human?!” he exclaimed.
“Sorry for surprising you, but uh... this much ain’t too rare among my siblings and acquaintances.”
“You’re saying there are even more people who can do things like that in the Empire?!”
“Not too many. Latrielle and Eddie, to name a few. In fact, anyone they call a hero probably could have done that with ease.”
“I’m starting to understand what you meant when you said war is about the people involved...”
“Well, I didn’t mean having one person take on numerous opponents. Plus, these guys aren’t even soldiers to begin with... That’s why I didn’t kill them.”
“So it seems.”
“A few are bleeding quite a bit, sure, but as long as their friends around the back aren’t too heartless, they should get treated before they kick the bucket.”
“I should hope so. I wouldn’t want anyone to die, no matter who they are.”
As the two started heading back to the others, Elize scampered out from the warehouse. “Bastian! Are you okay?!”
“Of course I am.”
“The ship is here!”
“Good timing.”
A reserved number of torches ran along the dock, serving as a guide for the mid-sized sailing ship that could just barely be seen through the darkness. Anyone who could manage to dock in these conditions without crashing was sure to be considerably skilled.
The people cowering within the warehouse hurried out. Most scrambled to be the first on board, but some stopped to thank Bastian, gratefully lowering their heads.
Elize exhaled a relieved breath. “Thank the heavens. I was worried about what might happen...”
“Can’t believe even you were concerned. You should know by now that there’s no way I’d lose to a bunch of amateurs.”
“Well, I’m certainly glad my fears were unfounded.”
“Ha ha ha...”
All of a sudden, Roland screamed something. Bastian couldn’t quite make out what it was, but he only had to turn around to realize his own failure.
The bald man with the broken knee was pointing his comrade’s gun at none other than Elize. He knew that Bastian would have most likely been able to avoid the shot, which was precisely why he had directed the muzzle at the girl.
Bastian stepped forward to protect Elize, crying out, “Stop!” as the man pulled the trigger.
“Die!”
The gun discharged.
“...!”
As Bastian braced himself, Roland leaped out to shield him. His body twitched at the impact of the bullet before crumpling to the ground, where he lay motionless like a stringless puppet.
Bastian threw his knife at full force, and within moments it was embedded in the bald man’s torso. Was the wound lethal? He neither knew nor cared. Not right now. He ran over to Roland and took him in his arms.
“Roland!”
“Bastian...”
He had taken the bullet to the chest. The fact that he wasn’t already dead meant it couldn’t have reached his heart, but the bleeding was too severe. It must have torn through an organ or a thick blood vessel.
“G-Get a grip! I’ll get you a doctor!”
“It’s fine... I’m... beyond saving... right? I can tell...”
“Ngh...”
Bastian knew from his battle experience that this was a fatal wound. His eyes grew hot, and tears started to blur his vision. “I-It’s because I... let my guard down...” he stammered.
“You’re wrong... This was my... strategic failure... Thank you... for protecting my comrades...”
“But this all would’ve been for nothing if you die here!”
“I was unlucky... That’s all there is to it...”
“Is there really nothing we can do...?”
“Bastian... I entrust this to you.”
Roland tried to move his hands, but he could barely muster the strength. Elize squatted down beside him, tears streaming in rivulets down her face. It was up to her to retrieve what he so desperately groped around for—his book.
“Is this it?” she asked.
“Is this it, Roland?!” Bastian demanded.
“Yeah... That’s right... I leave it... to you... A world where every person... has the right to be happy...”
Bastian tightly gripped his friend’s now feeble hand. “I promise! You can leave everything to me!”
Roland’s eyes crinkled into a weak smile. “Aah... It was fun... while it lasted...”
Such were the final words of Jean Roland de Tiraso Laverde.
✧ ✧ ✧
The sailing ship left during the night. Deep inside its hold, Bastian wiped the blood from his dagger, then opened the book Roland had given him. These were the only two things he was bringing with him.
Elize was there by his side. If she hadn’t urged him away, Bastian wondered whether he would have remained there, frozen, holding the husk of what had once been Roland. He knew that wasn’t what his dear friend, who had thrown down his life to protect him, would have wanted.
He needed to get a grip. He knew he couldn’t worry Elize any further, but he had shed so many tears that it felt as though he had gone completely numb. He was struggling to even process his own thoughts.
Could he really keep his promise like this...?
Bastian flipped to the next handwritten page. His words.
His eyes heated up again.
“Elize...”
“Bastian... Please, no more crying...”
“He’s here. Right in here. This is where Roland lies. His words are with me...”
A quiet sob escaped him. Elize reached out her hands and placed them around his head. In her warm grasp, he shed another tear.
The ship sailed the dark seas toward Belgaria.
Afterword
Thank you for reading Altina the Sword Princess: Loose Threads! This is the author, Yukiya Murasaki.
This book was released alongside the seventh volume of the main story. I’ve been given more pages than usual for this afterword, so I’ll try using it to describe each story.
The Eve
When I kicked off the main series, I originally published this online as a short story to introduce people to the main plot. It takes place before Regis and Altina met. That said, my prose back then was quite old and rather stilted, and I rewrote so much that it’s essentially a different story from what it once was.
