Shuumatsu Nani Shitemasu ka? Iden: Leila Asprey - Chapter 2-3

JULY 29, 2022 ~ FLAMETJD

The cool sea breeze held a slight salty tang. Everywhere they looked, the waves glittered brilliantly in the sun.

“Oooh…” Leila’s eyes shone. Engrossed in the sight of the vast ocean, she leaned so far out she was practically over the ship’s gunwale.

Answering to no country in particular, those known as the Braves fought for all of humanity—at least, that’s how things were on the surface. Needless to say, reality was a bit different. They were backed by the Church of Holy Light, whose sphere of influence was limited to the Holy Empire’s territory. Hence, the Regal Brave’s battlefields usually fell within those boundaries as well.

And if there was one thing the Empire lacked, it was access to the sea. Quite some time had passed since she last set foot outside its borders, so her heart soared when this faraway trip allowed her to take in an unfamiliar sight.

“Wow… The world sure is huge…”

“Please don’t get so excited you fall off the ship,” a cool voice chided, shattering her momentary bliss.

“There’s no way I’d fall… I’m not a child, you know.”

“At the ripe old age of thirteen? Common sense dictates otherwise.”

“Is that so? From what I’ve heard, some of the northern tribes consider those who reach ten to have come of age.”

“Being ten does not make you an adult. At least, not under the Empire’s laws. If you do not want to be treated like a child, perhaps you should first stop spouting childish logic like this.”

Leila had no retort to give, for she knew full well that the woman was right.

“Besides, your body’s gone all haywire because of some curse you caught, right? If I were a doctor, I’d advise you to stay out of the sea breeze.”

“Hmph. Fine, whatever. Have it your way.” Pursing her lips, Leila swept away from the gunwale, glaring sulkily at the woman by her side. “By the way, Miss… Cyrille, right? How long do you intend to accompany me?”

The person she’d been talking to was a terribly unimpressive, plain-looking lady who called herself twenty-one years old. She wore a plain cap and thick spectacles, had freckles around her nose, and a terrible scowl that made her look as if she’d lost all faith in other people long ago.

Imperial sage Cyrille Leitner, Purple Star Second Class, whatever that means. Leila wasn’t quite sure what sort of position it was, though she supposed the woman was a scholar somewhere in the middle of the totem pole. In other words, if her superiors had handed her a troublesome assignment, there’s no way she could’ve refused.

“I’ll have you know that I’m not accompanying you because I want to.” Cyrille straightened her glasses. “Per my orders, I am to follow you until the very end of your journey. Take your complaints to the higher-ups, not me.”

“Your higher-ups? You mean those Imperial sage bigwigs? Why would that bunch want to interfere in the Regal Brave’s travels?”

“Frankly speaking, the cabinet ministers are the ones responsible for this arrangement. I won’t speculate about what the original plan was supposed to be, but everyone knows the Regal Brave only fights in Empire territory. As such, to people elsewhere, the ‘Protector of the Empire’ is none other than you.”

“What the heck…” So it’s like that. Leila finally understood it all—the implication behind Cyrille’s words, and the intentions of the Empire’s authorities. “I’m, like, a superstar overseas, which is why they want me to act like a representative of the Empire, right? When I don’t actually hold a single ounce of authority or support?”

“Attagirl. That’s how it is, more or less,” she answered, unphased. “If I could, I’d cancel this trip, but we can’t do that.”

“Yep.” Leila glanced at her luggage. Sticking out of the bundle was Seniolis, wrapped in cloth.

According to her master, the only person who could repair Seniolis was, simply put, residing somewhere within the nation of Basilfeld. Even with the fastest transport available, the journey still took more than a fortnight, and the border crossings were—to Cyrille’s chagrin—a massive pain.

That being said, there’s no way I can leave it as it is. As a matter of fact, Seniolis was an extremely ancient blade. Though only a precious few could wield it, its long history meant that it had changed hands a fair bit. Any filth on the blade, left unattended, was a great indignity towards all its previous users.

Splish, splash. Some distance away, a school of fish swam past, jumping energetically out of the water. 

“Wow…” This too, was something she couldn’t have seen in the Empire. Long-distance journeys aren’t so bad after all, thought Leila.

“Miss Brave?”

Ah. Cyrille’s serene voice made her realize that she’d edged toward the gunwale again. Perhaps the curse was messing with her mind, as she did feel like she’d been a little out of it lately. Not good.

Pulling back, Leila quickly changed the topic. “So, um, uhh… I don’t think we need to be so uptight about it. I mean, we’re looking for House Astrid which deals in the talisman business, right? I bumped into their boss at an Imperial banquet not long back. He’s a well-spoken older gentleman.”

Thinking back, she recalled her encounter with the portly and dignified middle-aged man. Everything he wore looked rather expensive, from his suit, to the rings on his hands and the cigar he smoked. All in all, he looked and spoke just like a mobster. Luckily, Leila had been through enough for her to be unfazed by that.

“Haven’t you heard?” Cyrille sighed. “House Astrid’s chief executive changed half a year ago.”

“Really?”

“The gentleman you spoke of had passed away, and his daughter took up the mantle.”

“Daughter…”

Splish, splash. A bit further, a fish leapt out of the water again. As if in wait, a seabird dove down, and for a split second two shadows zipped by each other on the surface of the water.

“Woah!” Leila watched as the bird flew back up, a fish clamped in its beak. The silver scales caught the light, glimmering in triumph of the bird’s successful catch.

“Wow…” It was beautiful beyond words—a panorama of elegance she’d never seen before. Light and shadow, stillness and movement, life and death. Various things clashed and unfolded within that one fleeting moment.

Leila had once considered herself somewhat well-traveled; with some degree of knowledge about the wider world. But still, she was merely thirteen, just a frog in a well who hadn’t actually seen all that much, so much so that her journey thus far had already given her plenty of fresh experiences.

“Miss Brave?”

Oops! “Uhh, my bad, haha.” Laughing it off, Leila backed away from the gunwale she’d been leaning on again. 

She plowed on nonetheless. “Where were we? Right, you mentioned that gentleman passed away, and then… his daughter inherited the family business, was it?” Just as she wrenched the conversation back on track, she noticed her voice dipping a little.

“Yes. About that, I’ve heard you butted heads with the young lady during the banquet?” Cyrille asked calmly, despite wearing the same expression as a frustrated teacher trying to rein in her unruly students.

“No, no, it really wasn’t that bad. It’s not like we even came to blows…”

“Apparently, you two very nearly did.”

“Not in a million years. I’d crush her like an ant before she could even touch me.”

“It’s that bad, huh? I think I’m beginning to understand the relationship between you two, but…” Cyrille nodded her head sagely, as if she understood something Leila didn’t. “Adelaide Astrid. She’s the trump card of House Astrid, the world’s premier talisman manufacturing enterprise. Their ace in the hole. That genius young lady is who you’ll be dealing with this time.”

Lost in thought, Leila fell silent for a while.

“Can I please go back?”

“No.”

“No?” Her shoulders slumped. “I really, really can’t stand that girl…”

Splish, splash. It seemed as if the waves, crashing faintly in the distance, were trying to console her.

In the legends of old, that particular region of the ocean was cursed. 

After passing through the Listell Inland Sea and heading east, you’d emerge south of the Garmond Flowing Sands Confederation. Dense fog would suddenly creep in despite the previously fair weather, and disoriented ships would inevitably be forced to lower their sails and wait for it to clear. 

The oft-repeated legends spoke of these impassable sheets of fog as portals to a different world. Ships unlucky enough to be ensnared would never see the sun again, eventually sinking into the ocean’s depths. 

And so, the tales had been told countless times, with ships of all imaginable kinds. From large, hulking merchantmen to tiny fishing boats, antiquated rowboats and modern sailing ships alike met their end. The most famous story among them featured an entire naval flotilla being swallowed by the fog, never to return.

Though the legends seemed more like an old wives’ tale, they weren’t completely unfounded. Numerous ships had indeed vanished unaccountably after sailing into those waters, and there existed records which attest to that.

In truth, the culprit wasn’t fog, but ocean currents. When certain seasonal conditions and weather patterns were met, the currents in a normally calm region could change drastically. The disrupted airflow would generate fog that immobilized ships, leaving them at the mercy of currents which pushed them into dangerous waters filled with rocky reefs. Thus, more and more ships fell victim with each passing year. Since none returned to tell the tale, it was simply easier to believe that they had vanished into the fog.

And just like that, tales of the cursed waters began to spread.

Tales which, of course, had simply been myths of a bygone era. Meanwhile, in the present, things were different owing to advancements in shipbuilding and maritime navigation—yet there was one particular tale that actually happened. It was none other than that of the naval flotilla disappearing into the fog.

More than a hundred years ago, twenty-six large sailboats, outfitted with all sorts of cutting-edge technology for the time, had exterminated a monstrous serpent terrorizing the nearby waters. On their return trip, they had stumbled into that fogbound region of the sea.

At that fateful moment, it would’ve been quite natural for the fleet to descend into chaos. Their ships were dead in the water, corpses were floating all around them, and the sailors had already told everyone to resign to the harsh reality that they could never escape.

It was their admiral, Captain Basilfeld, who boldly proclaimed: “From this day forth, I will build a new nation here!”

Everyone laughed. They were all dumbfounded and thought he’d gone insane. When they’d calmed down, however, the people gave it some thought and realized it wasn’t such a tall order after all.

The incapacitated ships served as territory for their new nation, with the various decks connected by makeshift wooden bridges. They harvested the detestable forests of kelp that had ensnared their ships, confirmed them to be edible, and scavenged nearby shipwrecks to further replenish their supplies. In time, they also welcomed other ships that drifted there into the fold.

Basilfeld’s development from its humble beginnings could hardly be called smooth-sailing—one might even say its history was written in blood. However, when all was said and done, the experiment had mostly succeeded, and the ragtag band of castaways had created a sprawling community large enough to be called a nation.

For quite a while, there had been no contact with the continent since they had no way of knowing their existence. Nonetheless, that changed in recent times as humankind learned to navigate the treacherous reefs and currents of the sea.

In the first place, that region was a maritime crossroad which explained why ships would constantly pass through and disappear. When it became possible to be navigated safely, the waters once rumored to be cursed rapidly flourished into a busy trade route.

And in the present…

Their journey by sea lasted six days. When they saw a vague shape on the horizon, Leila gave a muted cheer of excitement.

“Woah…”

Bit by bit, their ship closed the distance, allowing Leila to see the shoreline in greater detail. Every time the waves crested (due to the irregular reefs that dotted the ocean floor) and the ship shook unsteadily, she’d let out a “Waaah!” or “Woo-hoo!”.

But when they finally steered into port and she walked down the gangplank, her first sound was a half-muddled groan of confusion.

The ground beneath her swayed, and not because she’d just stepped off a moving boat. It felt as if the port itself was one gigantic barge, rocking to-and-fro to the rhythm of the waves.

“It doesn’t feel like we’ve set foot on land.”

“This was never land in the first place. Come on, give me your passport and I’ll go settle the disembarkation procedures.”

“Alright…”

Children traveling alone tend to encounter several difficulties, so journeying with Cyrille saved her a lot of trouble. With a reliable adult on hand, all the formalities were dealt with smoothly. No doubt she could’ve used her status as Regal Brave to apply diplomatic pressure, cleave through all that red tape and enter the country as a state guest, but she’d rather not resort to such drastic measures.

“Ooh…”

Basilfeld was a city-state crafted from the hulls of countless ill-fated ships. Its land—if it could be called that—was an extensive, unsightly hodgepodge of wooden planks and metal sheets. 

From above, it looked like a mismatched jigsaw puzzle barely held together by wooden skewers, or perhaps an overturned wicker basket poorly woven by an inexperienced novice. The whole structure was broadly segregated into five indistinct districts, though some areas were split into four or six districts instead. Each district was roughly divided into multiple smaller wards, each appearing to be governed by different vigilante groups.

On the periphery, numerous wooden rafts were clustered together like an archipelago of floating islands. The port they were at was a large-sized barge that seemed to serve as a trading station. From one glance at the sprawling district, Leila could already tell that law enforcement, if any, was bound to be extremely lax.

When she looked up, she saw countless thin ropes which tethered the outlying barges to the  megastructure in the center. A great array of clothing was hung out to dry on those ropes, like a grand circus tent with all its flags flying in the wind.

Even on the continent, structures of this size were rare. Everything that stood before their eyes had been built through the blood, sweat and tears of former castaways and their descendants.

Humanity sure is resilient.

Leila began to feel a little peckish. Walking up to the nearest street vendor, she bought a bag of dried fruits. After the long sea journey which left a salty taste in her mouth, taking a bite of something sweet immediately lightened her mood.

“Hey, you.” Someone lightly rapped the back of her head. “I haven’t even checked that our papers are in order, and you’ve already gone and bought snacks? Have you no shame? Can’t you just sit there and wait like a good little kid?”

Unsurprisingly, when she turned around, Cyrille stood there scowling like she faced an ill-disciplined child.

“C’mon, I was just thinking it’s great that we’re finally here, y’know? Got a teensy bit excited, that’s all. Want one? It’s pretty good.”

“Resorting to bribes when you get scolded, eh? Good grief.”

“Chill out. Sure you don’t want one?”

“Don’t mind if I do, then.” Unsmiling, Cyrille accepted the piece of dried fruit and immediately took a bite.

“So? What are we gonna do? Do some sightseeing, maybe?”

“I was finking—” Cyrille swallowed. “I was thinking we better not. I mean, there’s no guarantee that this place is completely safe.”

“You think so?” Leila scanned their surroundings. “Doesn’t seem particularly dangerous to me…” Right on cue, angry shouts resounded from somewhere else, followed by the crack of breaking wooden planks and a cacophony of panicked screams. What came next was the metallic clangor of pots and pans a second later, a loud splash and even louder screams.

It’s close. One house away, I’d say.

“You were saying?”

Cyrille’s gaze was cold. “Oh, it’s no big deal. Just a run-of-the-mill scuffle between some typical street thugs. There’s only five of them and it looks like they’re all unarmed, so there shouldn’t be any danger, right?”

“You know, most people would consider this a pretty large uproar,” Cyrille sighed as if it was only natural.

It’s really no concern of mine, but they say sighing takes your happiness away… so how much joy has this woman lost already? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. “Who cares what anyone else would take it as? When I said there wasn’t any danger, I meant it literally. Since you’re an Imperial sage, it goes without saying that you can cast a few spells, right?”

“I did study some magic, yes. But spells are, in essence, special techniques that normally require specifically prepared seals to cast. They aren’t suited for spontaneous brawls like these.”

“Normally, eh? Are you really gonna say with a straight face that you fall within those norms?”

Cyrille fell silent. “…In any case, I don’t think it’s a suitable time to sightsee with this whole commotion going on. Unless you’re telling me that this sort of thing is right up your alley?”

“Hmph, that’s not what I meant.” Leila thought for a bit. 

Although she wasn’t watching the fight firsthand, she could roughly grasp the situation by listening to the hubbub and studying the combatants’ breathing. Two against three, and both sides are barehanded. Not to mention, they’re all amateurs. You can’t even call this a proper fight. 

Instead, she paid more attention to the onlookers. There’s four of them. They’re poised and guarded, and watching those amateurs duke it out from a distance. I’d say they’re all pretty used to dealing with this kind of thing. Speaking of which… Since there’s a bunch of fairly skilled people watching the port, I guess this country isn’t as peaceful as it looks.

She probably wasn’t supposed to interfere. Each city had its own unique way of doing things, and outsiders had no business sticking their noses in. If she did as she pleased and went in guns blazing, she’d be no more than a nosy bystander, like Cyrille had implied. No, Leila thought, this isn’t the Regal Brave’s job.

“Well, how should I put it… All things considered, I think this place is actually quite orderly.”

“What?”

“Humans are scared of each other. The fact that people here can openly start fights like that means this is just a day-to-day occurrence to them. I’d wager that there aren’t even any monsters left in this region.”

“That’s a scary thought in itself.” The din was slowly getting noisier. Perhaps reinforcements from either camp had arrived, or several bystanders had been dragged into the fray. “But I’m afraid you’re right. It seems that sea monsters don’t really stray too close to here. And that’s despite the fact that there’s practically no adventurers around, and the local Adventurers’ Guild is pretty much bare-bones. In fact, it isn’t even part of the Guild Alliance.”

“You’re pretty well-informed.”

“I did some research before we came.” What she left unsaid on a whim was that the Church of Holy Light wielded very little influence in Basilfeld, so Braves, who fought to protect humanity, did not exist here. “Every year, swarms of large sea serpents and sharks attack this place just before the monsoon season begins. From what I’ve heard, the major vigilante groups compete against each other for the most kills then. That’s when they hold some kind of frenzied celebration, and so it is only during this period that local organizations hire mercenaries from the outside to their cause.”

Sounds pretty fun. “How do I say this… I can’t quite put my finger on it, but this really is a very lively place.”

“Miss Brave?”

“How wonderful,” Leila mumbled under her breath.

As the crowds were brought to a fever pitch, a young lady in a suit pushed her way out, looked around, and made her way toward them.

“Excuse me, would you be Miss Asprey and Miss Leitner?”

The lady, looking slightly hesitant for some reason, introduced herself as House Astrid’s representative.

Though the room wasn’t spacious by any means, it certainly was very luxurious; all the furniture within it could not be found anywhere else within the Empire. The teapots lining the wall were steel instead of clay, and the rugs were even made of woven grass instead of fur. On one side, an expansive nautical chart occupied an entire wall, most likely displaying the topography of the regional seafloor as well as nearby ocean currents.

A long six-seater table sat in the middle of the room with equally ornate chairs placed at both ends. Right now, two rather young girls occupied those chairs.

Leila Asprey and Adelaide Astrid were all smiles, but a chilly silence hung between them. The air was so tense that a more timid bystander might’ve fainted right then and there.

“We understand the situation,” the dignified gentleman standing behind Adelaide began, bowing slightly. “Seniolis, the holy sword of legends and one of humankind’s greatest treasures. A taint upon the blade is tantamount to a blight on humanity’s future. The matter of its cleansing and repair transcends both national and religious boundaries; in fact, it is something of a duty that must be borne by all of humankind. Although I fear it is beyond our abilities, we are more than willing to contribute in what meager ways we can.”

“Stop,” Adelaide interrupted the gentleman’s words coolly. “Do not make proposals of your own accord. I haven’t agreed to it yet.”

“Boss.”

“We are first and foremost businessmen, and frankly, as an organization I’d even say we lean more towards the darker shade of gray. Unlike you people, we aren’t paragons of justice who’d actually try to make the world a better place.” 

Leila wrinkled her eyebrows, but Adelaide barrelled on without batting an eye: “From what we’ve just discussed, the Church doesn’t consider this issue with your sword to be very urgent at all. What’s more, tuning it is extremely difficult, and I’m afraid we’d have to commit all our best facilities and technicians if we are to have any hope of repairing it to a satisfactory degree. We simply don’t have the luxury of doing so right now… isn’t that right, Deputy Director?”

The gentleman was silent. “In any case, we are very sorry that you’ve had to come all this way here. Ah… As a token of my apologies, how about I introduce you to this absolutely exquisite seafood restaurant?”

“Haha, you’re pretty funny,” Leila answered, in what she hoped was a cheerful tone. “Your current situation doesn’t permit you to be so bullheaded, does it? Since you’re bereft of the luxury to accommodate our request, that’s all the more reason for you to seize this opportunity to curry favor with the Empire and the Church.”

Incidentally, Basilfeld’s territory was extremely limited. There were sporadic power struggles between its various factions, but whenever those occurred it was extremely important to have powerful backers on your side. The Holy Empire and the Church of Holy Light were entities that essentially controlled the entire world, thus the prospect of collaboration with them could not be lightly dismissed.

After pausing for a moment and glancing briefly at all present, Leila went on: “Besides, the current wielder of our prized Seniolis, which is to say I, have kindly agreed to let you take it apart and analyze it… I’d imagine you’re dying to get your paws on it, Adelaide.”

“House Astrid has tuned Seniolis before. The data we collected from that commission is more than sufficient for our talisman workshops at present.”

Leila vaguely recalled something to that effect. It happened several decades ago, when Seniolis’ previous user—in other words her master, had wielded it with such reckless abandon that he’d actually damaged the Kaliyon’s core. During that time, the person who’d successfully repaired Seniolis was House Astrid’s previous head—hence her master’s recommendation to her now.

“Well, you haven’t seen and taken Seniolis apart with your own eyes and hands, no? C’mon, Adelaide, I can practically see that tail of yours wagging nonstop already.”

“Just what sort of Monstrous am I in your eyes?”

“A vixen with shiny fur but filthy paws.”

“That was fast,” Adelaide chuckled.

Leila also grinned back.

Outside the window, seagulls cawed away noisily.

“Miss Brave.” Behind Leila, Cyrille finally spoke up. “Must I once again remind you to act with decorum as befits your position?”

“C’mon, I’m just an immature child. Something like that is waaay over my head.”

“Good grief. Always cherry-picking your words…” Leila could feel Cyrille shaking her head hopelessly.

“Look at you,” Adelaide interjected, adding fuel to the fire, “getting scolded already.”

“You too, Boss.” The gentleman massaged his temples as if he had a headache and shook his head. “You’re our representative now. Inexperienced as you are, us adults can still make up for it. But please, I’ve told you time and time again to at least show a presentable attitude, haven’t I?”

“Well… I am technically an adult, but I still can’t quiiite figure out all these complicated social cues, you see, inexperienced as I am.”

“For heaven’s sake…” The gentleman sighed from the depths of his soul.

“My sentiments exactly,” Cyrille echoed in an equally hollow voice.

“And one more thing—” Perhaps Adelaide did not know how to read the room, or she knew and didn’t care anyway, but she went on as if nothing had happened: “In truth, we really aren’t at liberty to take on this job, are we? I mean, there’s still the Cheshire Cat Incident, and we also can’t put off the ‘Spork’ or the ‘Ashen Mouse’ cases for too long either. On top of that, we haven’t even completed our preparations for the Sea Serpent Festival, right?”

“That is exactly why we cannot refuse this request. Without reinforcements from the Church of Holy Light, how would you expect us to tide through the Sea Serpent Festival this year?”

Adelaide quieted down. It seemed the gentleman’s words had struck a nerve. “What sea serpent?” Hearing something foreign to her, Leila quietly asked Cyrille.

“It’s one of Basilfeld’s special events. Something like a large-scale extermination mission. Because they require more armed might for the festival, it appears they want to use it as a bargaining chip.”

“The Church didn’t tell me anything about this.”

“Well… maybe they didn’t want to trouble the Regal Brave about it.”

Forget it. Leila had guessed as much. Truth be told, it was terribly irksome to be used as a bargaining chip without her knowledge, but since this sort of thing was commonplace, there was nothing she could say about it.

“Hmph,” Adelaide tousled her forelocks listlessly.

“Looks like you guys are willing to take up the job, so let me just check again. You’re completely sure this workshop can handle the cleansing of Seniolis? Even our ones in the capital had to throw in the towel, you know?”

“Heh, child’s play—is what I’d like to say, but we won’t know until we try. The five so-called top-class holy swords are all pretty ridiculous. They won’t be so easy to tune.”

“But,” the gentleman added, with a sideways glance at Adelaide, “rest assured that we have every confidence of doing so.” Though Adelaide pursed her lips, she remained quiet. “We have already arranged suitable accommodations for the both of you during your stay. Although all necessary preparations have been made to ensure that you have every comfort at your disposal, do inform us if anything is not to your satisfaction.”

“Our sincerest tha—”

Before Cyrille finished her words, the gentleman, Joshua added: “By the way, Basilfeld harbors citizens hailing from many other nations. Quite a few of them are… ill-disposed toward the Empire and the Church of Holy Light. If possible, we entreat our two honored guests to conceal your true identities—”

“We have no intention of publicizing our presence here.”

“Understood. Oh, and one more thing. Law and order is a great deal poorer here than within the Empire, so do be careful.” Joshua bowed, signaling the end of their negotiation.