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sutepriTime for your annual Scrapped Princess novel translation!
. . . orz
[Content Notes]
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | A Fateful Choice | Part 4/4
". . . was someone just here?"
Count Franchi raised his brows at Raquel's question.
The count's drawing room. The room into which the maids had marched Shannon and Raquel was the same room that had just recently held Big Noise and Convict. The maids had withdrawn as ordered, leaving only Count Franchi, Shannon, Raquel, and Finebel, who silently went about preparing the tea.
Shannon and Raquel had taken a seat on the sofa as directed . . . and Raquel's words just now were the first to break the silence.
"What makes you think that?"
"The air is rather warm," Raquel answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "In the winter, the temperature of an empty room drops quickly. But even if a room isn't actually heated, the presence of several people in one place will leave a faint yet distinct trace of warmth."
". . . impressive." Count Franchi regarded Shannon and Raquel face-to-face as he spoke. "You just missed each other. I did have guests right before you arrived. Well, at any rate . . . we were talking about Yuuma, weren't we?"
Shannon and Raquel nodded as one.
"To put it frankly . . . your father, Yuuma Nanbu-Casull, was murdered. He was murdered by a professional killer--who goes by the alias 'Big Noise'--and his associate. As a matter of fact, they were just sitting on the same sofa that you two are sitting on now."
It took a moment for the meaning of those words to sink in.
Count Franchi's fringe wavered.
He was not making even the slightest movement himself. No wind blew through the room. However, as though being blown by some unseen force . . . no, rather, as though the air itself trembled in fear of the acuity of this unseen force, the count's hair wavered slowly.
Bloodlust.
Without a word . . . but with a fierce and terrible light in his eyes, Shannon half-rose from the sofa. He would have launched himself at the feudal lord, just like an arrow fired with deadly precision, but he was stopped by a slender white hand.
Gently gripping her younger twin's left arm, Raquel shook her head.
As though to lower the pressure of his rage, Shannon let out a slow breath, and then restlessly resumed his seat on the sofa.
"Then would it be correct to say, Count Franchi . . . that you are on the same side as those hired killers?" Raquel asked in his place. Unlike Shannon, her tone was calm, but her usual buoyancy had vanished, and little wonder.
Count Franchi raked a hand through his fringe and spoke quietly.
"I don't know whether you'll believe me or not, but no. However, unbeknownst even to those men, a letter arrived some ten days ago, bearing the seal of the Grand Chamberlain1. It instructed me to accommodate that lot."
". . ."
"Beyond that, any information I have has come from my own personal sources. You needn't believe it all, but would you care to hear it anyway? Surely even they wouldn't go so far as to barge into a Sunday School."
After inclining her head and considering for a moment, Raquel nodded.
"About one month ago, a lady of the Court was investigated by the Royal Palace. Well, that's a common enough occurrence in and of itself.
"This lady's husband is a terribly wasteful man, you see. He's a younger member of an impoverished aristocratic line, and unable to let go of courtly luxury, he threw his money around and apparently accumulated debts here and there.
"However, while she may have served at the palace, the lady was nothing more than the daughter of an impoverished aristocratic family herself. She was well aware of the amount of their disposable income and such. And so, at a complete loss for what to do, she ended up embezzling public funds.
"Well . . . the matter was quickly exposed, and after she was arrested, it came to pass that the woman underwent interrogation by Jade Circuit. While they were using mind-reading magic to scan her memories for evidence, by chance they happened to bring a terrible truth to light."
Here, he paused. After carefully weighing the silence, Count Franchi continued.
"Fourteen years ago, this woman had, under direct order of the queen, taken a baby from the Royal Palace, and then left it in the care of a certain married couple. Now, saying that much is one thing . . . but if that baby happened to be the princess who had just been born at that time, then it's another matter."
" . . . the Scrapped Princess."
The count nodded at Raquel's murmur.
"Indeed. This embezzlement case triggered a sweeping purge of the Royal Family's inner circle.
"The princess in question is on record as being killed by the palace knight corps, the Anwahl Knights, and her remains as being destroyed by Jade Circuit, and once they had incinerated even the bones, they were supposed to have woven a seal over them before casting them into the glass canyon on the northern border of our kingdom."
Even ruthless was too mild a word for such a meticulous execution. It was unlikely that even a mass murderer would receive such treatment.
"They had gone to such extreme measures to consign the Scrapped Princess to oblivion, yet she lived. Everyone who was involved in the erasure of the Scrapped Princess was punished in the utmost secrecy, starting with the people who were the heads of the Anwahl Knights and Jade Circuit at that time. Some were treated lightly and merely dismissed, while those who faced heavier punishment were not only stripped of their ranks but also executed. In all, more than sixty people were purged."
Count Franchi spoke in a detached manner. Yet for all that, the full weight and horror of reality came across with perfect clarity.
The reality of just how cruel these creatures we call "human" can be.
"But of course the orchestrator of the entire incident--Queen Elmire--could not very well be executed, so she is currently being held under house arrest at the royal villa. In reality, it's quite a lenient confinement. And now the Supreme Officers of the Court2 have decided to have the central figure of this whole affair assassinated before the matter becomes public."
". . . Your Grace," Raquel said, as though taking over for the count, who had lapsed into silence. "Did Your Grace know this from the beginning?"
"I have neither seen nor heard anything." His tone was one of self-derision. "Those were the conditions for accepting your family into this town. As a member of Leinwand's nobility, I couldn't possibly lend a hand to anyone seeking to shield the Scrapped Princess. But back in my Road Blockers days, your father saved my life, you see. Taking this into consideration, we came to a compromise, that I would turn a blind eye to the fact that your little sister Pacifica's resident registration papers were forged."
Of course, even Shannon and Raquel could imagine that doing just that much would be grounds enough for the count to be charged with treason against the Crown.
"To be honest, I'm not quite as skeptical as your parents were regarding the Oracle of St. Grendel. At any rate, according to the records, the prophecies have only ever been wrong twice, and even then only slightly so. The remaining oracles . . . they say that every last one of the remaining 5109 oracles have come to perfect fulfillment. One could reasonably call this a consummate record, wouldn't you agree?"
The Oracle of St. Grendel.
The general sense of the term indicated the prophecies that were bestowed on the people every year at the cathedral in Grendel, which was the holy land for the Church of Mauser, the state religion of the Kingdom of Leinwand.
Five priests entered private rooms that were dedicated to the reception of divine revelation, and there heard the Lord God Mauser's Protocols. No one knew from whence those words come, nor their manner of transmission, not even the archbishop. But both the method of reception and the results thereof were a tradition that had lived on unbroken for the past five thousand years.
Of course, the language of the gods is entirely different from that of humans. One theory was that the Protocols entered the priests' minds only partially formed, and were unclear at that time. However it happened, the specially designated priests called Decoders underwent training to translate the Protocols into human language, and they took that training with them when they went to receive the oracles.
With five different priests having received the oracle simultaneously, there were times during the process of deciphering it that a priest's own idiosyncrasies would influence the translation. Though people may all see the same thing, the words they use to describe it will be different for each. In order to avoid subtle misunderstandings and errors of translation, the five priests gathered in a different room after receiving the oracle, and brought with them the Protocols that they received. Upon discussion of these matters, they would come to a consensus regarding the substance of the oracle.
However.
The circumstances of the oracle from fifteen years ago were different.
Just as the attendants (unsettled by the priests' failure to emerge even after the expected time had long since passed) had begun to raise a commotion, screams resounded throughout the cathedral.
Before the eyes of the people, who had been struck silent with awe, the five doors opened simultaneously . . . and from within crept the bodies of the five priests, disgorging unimaginable quantities of blood as they came.
And so, as their breath grew faint and feeble, it is said that these priests carried out their duty.
Namely . . .
Of the twins who shall one day soon issue forth from the womb of the queen, thou shalt put the girl-child to death. After ten and six years have passed from the day of that child's nativity, she shall bring about the Day of Fate and destroy the world. She shall become a deadly poison, shattering the order of the world and bringing forth chaos.
Having spoken just these words, they laid down life's burden as one.
Leaving behind only these unreasonable words.
Of course . . . the Royal Family was thrown into turmoil. Violent disputes over the oracle's authenticity erupted. Even King Balterich Leinwand and Queen Elmire--who had only just conceived--fiercely opposed it.
To begin with, this was the first time an oracle had ever ordered anything to be done, as no record of any such thing existed. Some among the opposition cited this incongruity as reason for disbelief, while others held that the unusual nature of the oracle just went to show the gravity of the danger they faced.
But at any rate . . . the continued fulfillment of these prophecies over the long span of five thousand years was too great a matter to ignore. According to the records, the Oracle had proven wrong a mere two times. That was a rate of less than once every 2500 years.
What's more, the priests who had received the oracle directly had all passed away, so it was impossible to verify their words by listening to them again.
And so.
Before a decision could be reached, Queen Elmire gave birth to twins . . . a boy and a girl, as indicated in the oracle.
In the end, one of the twins . . . Without ever being given a name, and without even being held in her father's arms, the princess was killed by the Anwahl Knights, and her remains sealed by Jade Circuit . . . supposedly.
And so time flowed on. All involved kept their own counsels, and all records were scrubbed clean of the incident. It was decided that the oracle would be released to the public--its contents replaced by trivialities--and that, officially, Queen Elmire had given birth to only one child, The Prince Forsyth.
However, rumors lingered. Lingered, and slowly spread.
It was never spoken of in public, as though the words themselves would bring ill omen, yet everyone knew the legend of the princess. No one knows who started it . . . but the people came to call this pitiable princess--whose very existence had been erased--the "Scrapped Princess."
"I too pity your little sister."
The count said this as he accepted a fragrant cup of tea from Finebel.
"However, given the Oracle's rate of accuracy, I can't condemn as inhuman those people who wish for your sister's death. It is for exactly that reason that I've chosen to take a position of neutrality in this regard."
". . . right," Shannon said, as though forcing the word out from between his clenched teeth. It seemed that if his teeth had not been clamped shut, he would have screamed it at the top of his lungs. "Our gratitude for providing such valuable information. Now then . . ."
Shannon and Raquel rose to their feet. Their tea cups, which had just been refreshed, steamed in vain.
As the two of them walked past the count, heading toward the drawing room door, the count called out to them while keeping his gaze fixed firmly ahead.
". . . I have one thing I'd like to ask you."
"And what might that be?" Shannon said in a voice muddied by exasperation.
Likewise, he kept his back turned to the count, as though to dismiss him entirely, yet their conversation continued.
"Do you two truly understand the future you ought to choose?"
"What do you mean?"
"You still have the alternative of leaving that girl, Pacifica, to die. I'm asking whether you understand that."
Shannon looked back over his shoulder, staring at his feudal lord's back as though he were some never-before-seen creature.
"You're telling me . . ." Shannon licked his lips and repeated his words in a kind of groan. "You're telling me to sell my little sister down the goddamn river?"
"But she isn't your sister, is she? She's merely a stranger who has been sharing your house for fourteen years. Are you really going to throw your own lives away for the sake of that stranger?"
Though he must have felt a rage equal even to Shannon's bloodlust, Count Franchi's voice remained firm and steady.
"I'm telling you that if you allow yourselves to be swept up in a moment of tawdry humanitarianism, you'll only bring each other grief. The Crown has learned that the Scrapped Princess is alive. Things will only get worse from here. Every time someone comes after you . . . Listen, because it won't happen just once. Every time someone comes after you, there will be casualties. In the end, it won't be a question of whether the Oracle of St. Grendel was right or not. Whether it turns out to be the truth or a lie, your little sister's very existence will trigger people's deaths. Those people could be assassins, they could be yourselves, or they could even be innocent citizens who have nothing to do with any of this!"
Count Franchi spoke without the slightest misgiving. His voice was low and quiet, but it held within it the acuity of a judge condemning a criminal.
"The choice that you're making as though it were the most natural thing in the world--that is what it will really mean. Even so, you two want to protect your little sister. Why? Going to such an extreme . . . Do you really think your sister would be happy that way? Living a life that's been built atop a mountain of corpses, surrounded by a river of blood? Wouldn't it be better to give the matter just a bit more thought?"
Shannon was silent. Raquel was too.
"Aren't you acting out of mere self-satisfaction? If you take even one more step forward, you won't be able to turn back. You'll turn the entire world into your enemy. Is it really worth it to throw away the lives you have here and now?"
For a moment . . . for just one moment, hesitation showed on Count Franchi's face. It may have been his conscience as one human being, or perhaps it was his weakness as a nobleman.
But as though to cast off his own indecision, he made an explicit declaration: "If this one girl that we call Pacifica Casull were to die, this would all be settled. With just that!"
At that moment.
Kicking off from the floor, Shannon whirled. As though sliding into motion of its own accord, the sword in his right hand was unsheathed, and at the lowest point in the arc it described, the swordpoint--
"Finebel, don't!"
At the count's words, Finebel--who had seemed on the verge of throwing her stiletto--froze in place. At that moment, Finebel realized for the first time that Raquel's right hand was aimed right at her.
Raquel couldn't possibly manage to launch a spell in an instant, but however much Finebel may have excelled at martial arts, in this room . . . if Raquel were to use a powerful offensive spell in such an enclosed space, there could be no escape.
"People like you . . ." Shannon groaned.
The blade had halted on the verge of cutting Count Franchi's throat.
The count remained motionless. Still sitting with his back to Shannon, without turning a single hair, he remained perfectly composed. Though he must have felt the chill of the blade against his throat, he did not so much as glance in its direction. Rather, he simply kept his gaze on the cup of tea in his hands, and his eyes held no trace of disquiet or fear.
"People like you--!"
"If we could live simply by clinging to our ideals, wars would never break out in this world. No children would starve to death, no young girls would be raped, no old women would be abandoned. And that's exactly why we are constantly faced with choices . . . I'll ask you one more time. Is it worth going so far as to throw away everything you have?"
"Whether it's worth it or not . . ." Shannon's teeth grated harshly. "That isn't what this is about . . . This isn't something you can measure like that!"
"Then what is it?"
" . . . I . . ."
The sound of footsteps raised a commotion in the hallway.
Most likely the servants had heard signs of the struggle and called others to help.
"Shannon!"
At Raquel's voice, Shannon hesitated a moment before falling back against the wall. Raquel chanted something in a murmur, waiting until the exact moment that her younger brother reached her side before aiming her hand at the wall and speaking aloud.
"O Divine Spear, pierce!"
In that moment, the spell activated. The invisible power that had converged in the palm of her hand collided against the wall.
Just as though it had been cut out from the very beginning, a perfect circle of wall vanished. A compression wave had spread over the wall, reducing it to dust. Before this spell, even the strongest shield was of no consequence. Wearing armor would only destroy the armor, and hiding in the shadow of a rock would only destroy the rock.
It was the first-class military-grade offensive spell, Gungnir.
The two slipped through the hole and started running away from the manor.
"We'll be taking our leave now!"
At the same time, weapon-toting servants came surging into the room with the maids at the vanguard. The maids were not the only ones who could fight--all of the estate's servants received combat training to one degree or another. Half of them had served as soldiers under Count Franchi during his Road Blockers days.
"Escaped, did they . . . Altea, Batille, you take the right flank. Colleen, Dahlia, use the passageway to take them in a pincer attack from the left flank. Everyone else, battle formation number seven . . ."
The steward fired off orders, and the four maids drew their swords as one.
However . . .
"It's fine. Don't pursue them."
The lord's languid voice froze his servants. Gazing after the shrinking figures of the twins with eyes that seemed filled with nostalgia for something, Count Franchi continued.
"Let them go."
"But, my lord . . ."
"There . . . was a time when I too rushed into things without stopping to think of the consequences, just as they are doing now. I paid a heavy price, but still."
Finebel, the steward, and the veteran servants shot their lord poignant glances. Most likely they understood very well what that price had been.
"They'll probably be able to pay their own penalties. We should let them do as they please. Besides, I doubt even you would be able to stop those two easily. They are the children of Yuuma Nanbu and Carol Casull, after all."
Count Franchi rose from the sofa and looked around once more . . . and then, smiling wryly, he scratched his cheek with his index finger.
"Well . . . that won't do. I hate to do this, but I suppose I'll have to have them pay one of those prices right away. Tally up the cost of repairs for the wall and the sofa, then send them an itemized bill."
"As you will, my lord."
Giving a wry smile of his own, the elderly steward bowed.
[Next] [Previous]
Notes:
1) "王室政務官長," literally something like "royal chief political officer." I have no idea, so I just used what Wikipedia tells me was the top-ranked court officer in the Imperial German Household. Back
2) "王室政務宮たち," literally something along the lines of "royal political officers." In other words, the Grand Chamberlain's crew. In keeping with the Imperial German Household theme, I am calling them the "Supreme Officers of the Court" for now. Back
. . . orz
[Content Notes]
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | A Fateful Choice | Part 4/4
". . . was someone just here?"
Count Franchi raised his brows at Raquel's question.
The count's drawing room. The room into which the maids had marched Shannon and Raquel was the same room that had just recently held Big Noise and Convict. The maids had withdrawn as ordered, leaving only Count Franchi, Shannon, Raquel, and Finebel, who silently went about preparing the tea.
Shannon and Raquel had taken a seat on the sofa as directed . . . and Raquel's words just now were the first to break the silence.
"What makes you think that?"
"The air is rather warm," Raquel answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "In the winter, the temperature of an empty room drops quickly. But even if a room isn't actually heated, the presence of several people in one place will leave a faint yet distinct trace of warmth."
". . . impressive." Count Franchi regarded Shannon and Raquel face-to-face as he spoke. "You just missed each other. I did have guests right before you arrived. Well, at any rate . . . we were talking about Yuuma, weren't we?"
Shannon and Raquel nodded as one.
"To put it frankly . . . your father, Yuuma Nanbu-Casull, was murdered. He was murdered by a professional killer--who goes by the alias 'Big Noise'--and his associate. As a matter of fact, they were just sitting on the same sofa that you two are sitting on now."
It took a moment for the meaning of those words to sink in.
Count Franchi's fringe wavered.
He was not making even the slightest movement himself. No wind blew through the room. However, as though being blown by some unseen force . . . no, rather, as though the air itself trembled in fear of the acuity of this unseen force, the count's hair wavered slowly.
Bloodlust.
Without a word . . . but with a fierce and terrible light in his eyes, Shannon half-rose from the sofa. He would have launched himself at the feudal lord, just like an arrow fired with deadly precision, but he was stopped by a slender white hand.
Gently gripping her younger twin's left arm, Raquel shook her head.
As though to lower the pressure of his rage, Shannon let out a slow breath, and then restlessly resumed his seat on the sofa.
"Then would it be correct to say, Count Franchi . . . that you are on the same side as those hired killers?" Raquel asked in his place. Unlike Shannon, her tone was calm, but her usual buoyancy had vanished, and little wonder.
Count Franchi raked a hand through his fringe and spoke quietly.
"I don't know whether you'll believe me or not, but no. However, unbeknownst even to those men, a letter arrived some ten days ago, bearing the seal of the Grand Chamberlain1. It instructed me to accommodate that lot."
". . ."
"Beyond that, any information I have has come from my own personal sources. You needn't believe it all, but would you care to hear it anyway? Surely even they wouldn't go so far as to barge into a Sunday School."
After inclining her head and considering for a moment, Raquel nodded.
"About one month ago, a lady of the Court was investigated by the Royal Palace. Well, that's a common enough occurrence in and of itself.
"This lady's husband is a terribly wasteful man, you see. He's a younger member of an impoverished aristocratic line, and unable to let go of courtly luxury, he threw his money around and apparently accumulated debts here and there.
"However, while she may have served at the palace, the lady was nothing more than the daughter of an impoverished aristocratic family herself. She was well aware of the amount of their disposable income and such. And so, at a complete loss for what to do, she ended up embezzling public funds.
"Well . . . the matter was quickly exposed, and after she was arrested, it came to pass that the woman underwent interrogation by Jade Circuit. While they were using mind-reading magic to scan her memories for evidence, by chance they happened to bring a terrible truth to light."
Here, he paused. After carefully weighing the silence, Count Franchi continued.
"Fourteen years ago, this woman had, under direct order of the queen, taken a baby from the Royal Palace, and then left it in the care of a certain married couple. Now, saying that much is one thing . . . but if that baby happened to be the princess who had just been born at that time, then it's another matter."
" . . . the Scrapped Princess."
The count nodded at Raquel's murmur.
"Indeed. This embezzlement case triggered a sweeping purge of the Royal Family's inner circle.
"The princess in question is on record as being killed by the palace knight corps, the Anwahl Knights, and her remains as being destroyed by Jade Circuit, and once they had incinerated even the bones, they were supposed to have woven a seal over them before casting them into the glass canyon on the northern border of our kingdom."
Even ruthless was too mild a word for such a meticulous execution. It was unlikely that even a mass murderer would receive such treatment.
"They had gone to such extreme measures to consign the Scrapped Princess to oblivion, yet she lived. Everyone who was involved in the erasure of the Scrapped Princess was punished in the utmost secrecy, starting with the people who were the heads of the Anwahl Knights and Jade Circuit at that time. Some were treated lightly and merely dismissed, while those who faced heavier punishment were not only stripped of their ranks but also executed. In all, more than sixty people were purged."
Count Franchi spoke in a detached manner. Yet for all that, the full weight and horror of reality came across with perfect clarity.
The reality of just how cruel these creatures we call "human" can be.
"But of course the orchestrator of the entire incident--Queen Elmire--could not very well be executed, so she is currently being held under house arrest at the royal villa. In reality, it's quite a lenient confinement. And now the Supreme Officers of the Court2 have decided to have the central figure of this whole affair assassinated before the matter becomes public."
". . . Your Grace," Raquel said, as though taking over for the count, who had lapsed into silence. "Did Your Grace know this from the beginning?"
"I have neither seen nor heard anything." His tone was one of self-derision. "Those were the conditions for accepting your family into this town. As a member of Leinwand's nobility, I couldn't possibly lend a hand to anyone seeking to shield the Scrapped Princess. But back in my Road Blockers days, your father saved my life, you see. Taking this into consideration, we came to a compromise, that I would turn a blind eye to the fact that your little sister Pacifica's resident registration papers were forged."
Of course, even Shannon and Raquel could imagine that doing just that much would be grounds enough for the count to be charged with treason against the Crown.
"To be honest, I'm not quite as skeptical as your parents were regarding the Oracle of St. Grendel. At any rate, according to the records, the prophecies have only ever been wrong twice, and even then only slightly so. The remaining oracles . . . they say that every last one of the remaining 5109 oracles have come to perfect fulfillment. One could reasonably call this a consummate record, wouldn't you agree?"
The Oracle of St. Grendel.
The general sense of the term indicated the prophecies that were bestowed on the people every year at the cathedral in Grendel, which was the holy land for the Church of Mauser, the state religion of the Kingdom of Leinwand.
Five priests entered private rooms that were dedicated to the reception of divine revelation, and there heard the Lord God Mauser's Protocols. No one knew from whence those words come, nor their manner of transmission, not even the archbishop. But both the method of reception and the results thereof were a tradition that had lived on unbroken for the past five thousand years.
Of course, the language of the gods is entirely different from that of humans. One theory was that the Protocols entered the priests' minds only partially formed, and were unclear at that time. However it happened, the specially designated priests called Decoders underwent training to translate the Protocols into human language, and they took that training with them when they went to receive the oracles.
With five different priests having received the oracle simultaneously, there were times during the process of deciphering it that a priest's own idiosyncrasies would influence the translation. Though people may all see the same thing, the words they use to describe it will be different for each. In order to avoid subtle misunderstandings and errors of translation, the five priests gathered in a different room after receiving the oracle, and brought with them the Protocols that they received. Upon discussion of these matters, they would come to a consensus regarding the substance of the oracle.
However.
The circumstances of the oracle from fifteen years ago were different.
Just as the attendants (unsettled by the priests' failure to emerge even after the expected time had long since passed) had begun to raise a commotion, screams resounded throughout the cathedral.
Before the eyes of the people, who had been struck silent with awe, the five doors opened simultaneously . . . and from within crept the bodies of the five priests, disgorging unimaginable quantities of blood as they came.
And so, as their breath grew faint and feeble, it is said that these priests carried out their duty.
Namely . . .
Of the twins who shall one day soon issue forth from the womb of the queen, thou shalt put the girl-child to death. After ten and six years have passed from the day of that child's nativity, she shall bring about the Day of Fate and destroy the world. She shall become a deadly poison, shattering the order of the world and bringing forth chaos.
Having spoken just these words, they laid down life's burden as one.
Leaving behind only these unreasonable words.
Of course . . . the Royal Family was thrown into turmoil. Violent disputes over the oracle's authenticity erupted. Even King Balterich Leinwand and Queen Elmire--who had only just conceived--fiercely opposed it.
To begin with, this was the first time an oracle had ever ordered anything to be done, as no record of any such thing existed. Some among the opposition cited this incongruity as reason for disbelief, while others held that the unusual nature of the oracle just went to show the gravity of the danger they faced.
But at any rate . . . the continued fulfillment of these prophecies over the long span of five thousand years was too great a matter to ignore. According to the records, the Oracle had proven wrong a mere two times. That was a rate of less than once every 2500 years.
What's more, the priests who had received the oracle directly had all passed away, so it was impossible to verify their words by listening to them again.
And so.
Before a decision could be reached, Queen Elmire gave birth to twins . . . a boy and a girl, as indicated in the oracle.
In the end, one of the twins . . . Without ever being given a name, and without even being held in her father's arms, the princess was killed by the Anwahl Knights, and her remains sealed by Jade Circuit . . . supposedly.
And so time flowed on. All involved kept their own counsels, and all records were scrubbed clean of the incident. It was decided that the oracle would be released to the public--its contents replaced by trivialities--and that, officially, Queen Elmire had given birth to only one child, The Prince Forsyth.
However, rumors lingered. Lingered, and slowly spread.
It was never spoken of in public, as though the words themselves would bring ill omen, yet everyone knew the legend of the princess. No one knows who started it . . . but the people came to call this pitiable princess--whose very existence had been erased--the "Scrapped Princess."
"I too pity your little sister."
The count said this as he accepted a fragrant cup of tea from Finebel.
"However, given the Oracle's rate of accuracy, I can't condemn as inhuman those people who wish for your sister's death. It is for exactly that reason that I've chosen to take a position of neutrality in this regard."
". . . right," Shannon said, as though forcing the word out from between his clenched teeth. It seemed that if his teeth had not been clamped shut, he would have screamed it at the top of his lungs. "Our gratitude for providing such valuable information. Now then . . ."
Shannon and Raquel rose to their feet. Their tea cups, which had just been refreshed, steamed in vain.
As the two of them walked past the count, heading toward the drawing room door, the count called out to them while keeping his gaze fixed firmly ahead.
". . . I have one thing I'd like to ask you."
"And what might that be?" Shannon said in a voice muddied by exasperation.
Likewise, he kept his back turned to the count, as though to dismiss him entirely, yet their conversation continued.
"Do you two truly understand the future you ought to choose?"
"What do you mean?"
"You still have the alternative of leaving that girl, Pacifica, to die. I'm asking whether you understand that."
Shannon looked back over his shoulder, staring at his feudal lord's back as though he were some never-before-seen creature.
"You're telling me . . ." Shannon licked his lips and repeated his words in a kind of groan. "You're telling me to sell my little sister down the goddamn river?"
"But she isn't your sister, is she? She's merely a stranger who has been sharing your house for fourteen years. Are you really going to throw your own lives away for the sake of that stranger?"
Though he must have felt a rage equal even to Shannon's bloodlust, Count Franchi's voice remained firm and steady.
"I'm telling you that if you allow yourselves to be swept up in a moment of tawdry humanitarianism, you'll only bring each other grief. The Crown has learned that the Scrapped Princess is alive. Things will only get worse from here. Every time someone comes after you . . . Listen, because it won't happen just once. Every time someone comes after you, there will be casualties. In the end, it won't be a question of whether the Oracle of St. Grendel was right or not. Whether it turns out to be the truth or a lie, your little sister's very existence will trigger people's deaths. Those people could be assassins, they could be yourselves, or they could even be innocent citizens who have nothing to do with any of this!"
Count Franchi spoke without the slightest misgiving. His voice was low and quiet, but it held within it the acuity of a judge condemning a criminal.
"The choice that you're making as though it were the most natural thing in the world--that is what it will really mean. Even so, you two want to protect your little sister. Why? Going to such an extreme . . . Do you really think your sister would be happy that way? Living a life that's been built atop a mountain of corpses, surrounded by a river of blood? Wouldn't it be better to give the matter just a bit more thought?"
Shannon was silent. Raquel was too.
"Aren't you acting out of mere self-satisfaction? If you take even one more step forward, you won't be able to turn back. You'll turn the entire world into your enemy. Is it really worth it to throw away the lives you have here and now?"
For a moment . . . for just one moment, hesitation showed on Count Franchi's face. It may have been his conscience as one human being, or perhaps it was his weakness as a nobleman.
But as though to cast off his own indecision, he made an explicit declaration: "If this one girl that we call Pacifica Casull were to die, this would all be settled. With just that!"
At that moment.
Kicking off from the floor, Shannon whirled. As though sliding into motion of its own accord, the sword in his right hand was unsheathed, and at the lowest point in the arc it described, the swordpoint--
"Finebel, don't!"
At the count's words, Finebel--who had seemed on the verge of throwing her stiletto--froze in place. At that moment, Finebel realized for the first time that Raquel's right hand was aimed right at her.
Raquel couldn't possibly manage to launch a spell in an instant, but however much Finebel may have excelled at martial arts, in this room . . . if Raquel were to use a powerful offensive spell in such an enclosed space, there could be no escape.
"People like you . . ." Shannon groaned.
The blade had halted on the verge of cutting Count Franchi's throat.
The count remained motionless. Still sitting with his back to Shannon, without turning a single hair, he remained perfectly composed. Though he must have felt the chill of the blade against his throat, he did not so much as glance in its direction. Rather, he simply kept his gaze on the cup of tea in his hands, and his eyes held no trace of disquiet or fear.
"People like you--!"
"If we could live simply by clinging to our ideals, wars would never break out in this world. No children would starve to death, no young girls would be raped, no old women would be abandoned. And that's exactly why we are constantly faced with choices . . . I'll ask you one more time. Is it worth going so far as to throw away everything you have?"
"Whether it's worth it or not . . ." Shannon's teeth grated harshly. "That isn't what this is about . . . This isn't something you can measure like that!"
"Then what is it?"
" . . . I . . ."
The sound of footsteps raised a commotion in the hallway.
Most likely the servants had heard signs of the struggle and called others to help.
"Shannon!"
At Raquel's voice, Shannon hesitated a moment before falling back against the wall. Raquel chanted something in a murmur, waiting until the exact moment that her younger brother reached her side before aiming her hand at the wall and speaking aloud.
"O Divine Spear, pierce!"
In that moment, the spell activated. The invisible power that had converged in the palm of her hand collided against the wall.
Just as though it had been cut out from the very beginning, a perfect circle of wall vanished. A compression wave had spread over the wall, reducing it to dust. Before this spell, even the strongest shield was of no consequence. Wearing armor would only destroy the armor, and hiding in the shadow of a rock would only destroy the rock.
It was the first-class military-grade offensive spell, Gungnir.
The two slipped through the hole and started running away from the manor.
"We'll be taking our leave now!"
At the same time, weapon-toting servants came surging into the room with the maids at the vanguard. The maids were not the only ones who could fight--all of the estate's servants received combat training to one degree or another. Half of them had served as soldiers under Count Franchi during his Road Blockers days.
"Escaped, did they . . . Altea, Batille, you take the right flank. Colleen, Dahlia, use the passageway to take them in a pincer attack from the left flank. Everyone else, battle formation number seven . . ."
The steward fired off orders, and the four maids drew their swords as one.
However . . .
"It's fine. Don't pursue them."
The lord's languid voice froze his servants. Gazing after the shrinking figures of the twins with eyes that seemed filled with nostalgia for something, Count Franchi continued.
"Let them go."
"But, my lord . . ."
"There . . . was a time when I too rushed into things without stopping to think of the consequences, just as they are doing now. I paid a heavy price, but still."
Finebel, the steward, and the veteran servants shot their lord poignant glances. Most likely they understood very well what that price had been.
"They'll probably be able to pay their own penalties. We should let them do as they please. Besides, I doubt even you would be able to stop those two easily. They are the children of Yuuma Nanbu and Carol Casull, after all."
Count Franchi rose from the sofa and looked around once more . . . and then, smiling wryly, he scratched his cheek with his index finger.
"Well . . . that won't do. I hate to do this, but I suppose I'll have to have them pay one of those prices right away. Tally up the cost of repairs for the wall and the sofa, then send them an itemized bill."
"As you will, my lord."
Giving a wry smile of his own, the elderly steward bowed.
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Notes:
1) "王室政務官長," literally something like "royal chief political officer." I have no idea, so I just used what Wikipedia tells me was the top-ranked court officer in the Imperial German Household. Back
2) "王室政務宮たち," literally something along the lines of "royal political officers." In other words, the Grand Chamberlain's crew. In keeping with the Imperial German Household theme, I am calling them the "Supreme Officers of the Court" for now. Back
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Date: 2010-04-28 04:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-30 02:35 pm (UTC)