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[Translation] Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The Guardian's Melancholy | Part 3/7
[Content Notes]
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The Guardian's Melancholy | Part 3/7
It was a military-grade offensive spell . . . Mjölnir.
The assassin tumbled silently to the ground.
He had no particular external injuries, but every hair on his body stood on end, and his limbs were convulsing violently. He would have to live for some time with half of his body paralyzed, but the truth is, he was lucky on this count, and had reason to be happy.
Mjölnir's official use within the Leinwand Royal Forces is as an anti-personnel spell, and it has enough power to ensure instant death in a single cast. Of course, knowledge of its casting ritual is not available to the general public. Their mother had been a mage, and the fact that Raquel had managed to recreate the casting ritual by analyzing her notes--and what's more, that she could adjust the spell's power level to render it nonlethal--was a testament to Raquel's skill.
Moreover . . .
"Im . . . im . . ."
Shannon turned back to face the mustached man, and--in a voice that sounded like a groan--he said, "'Impossible'?"
He spoke in place of the man, who could only open and close his mouth like a fish, saying nothing.
"'There's no way you could cast an offensive spell using such a short incantation'?"
Given his surprise, it seems likely that the man had at least some knowledge related to magic.
It is certainly true that one cannot normally cast complex offensive spells using such a short incantation. For this reason, mages do not engage in close-quarter fighting, and on those occasions when they do immerse themselves in battle, it has become standard practice for them to do so while accompanied by infantry soldiers who are equipped for close combat.
"Ah, well, you see . . ." Her expression suddenly brightening, Raquel seemed quite happy as she began to explain: "It's called a batch spell1, and what I used just now was the absolute simplest casting ritual there is. You see, the first spell I cast, Emulator--which is configured separately from my own consciousness--both decompresses and executes spells that I prepare and compress ahead of time, so it's extremely effective at reducing casting times."
She said all of this in one unfaltering stream. This was an everyday matter to her, so perhaps she was just bursting to tell someone else about it.
"In other words, by using this casting technique, even a person who isn't a mage could temporarily--"
"Raquel, that's enough explaining."
"You think so?"
. . . Shannon, you meanie.
As though to say that, Raquel gazed at her younger brother with upturned eyes. When Raquel--who was like a very tall child--acted this way, she was strangely charming; unfortunately, it held no power over Shannon, her twin.
"Now then . . . Ossan."
Shannon walked over to his katana, which remained stabbed into the ground. Pulling it out, he once again turned to face the pallid, mustached man.
"You must have decided on your fate by now, right?"
The mustached man shook his head violently, over and over again . . . but his gaze was fixed on the glimmer of the blade that Shannon mercilessly raised overhead.
The coach traveled down the night-fallen branch trail.
The one who sat on the coach box, gripping the reins, was Raquel. Beside her sat Shannon. Thanks the attack by the mustached man and his fellows, they had fallen behind schedule, but they had now reached a place from which they could see a sprinkling of the town lights. It seemed they would be able to get some sort of evening meal at an inn.
"Hey, are we there yet?"
Pacifica had opened the passenger compartment's window and stuck her face out.
"You can see for yourself, can't you? We're almost there."
Shannon jerked his chin in the direction of the town lights.
However, Pacifica suddenly seized Shannon's ear, dragged it toward her, and shouted.
"What are you talking about, 'almost there'?! If you keep up that kind of laid-back talk, it'll be morning before we get there! Especially since you're so slow compared to other people, Shannon-nii! I'm tired. I wanna eat a hot meal and go to sleep in a soft bed!"
"Argh, shut up already!"
Well, it was not as though Pacifica's selfishness were anything new, but as one might expect, Shannon's ability to ignore her was not all that great either.
"Is this the mouth spouting that selfish crap? Wriggle, wriggle wriggle."
"Wha ah oo ooing!"
Wrapping his left arm around Pacifica's neck, Shannon had used his right hand to stretch out Pacifica's cheek. Pacifica kicked and wriggled wildly as she yelled at him.
"Ere's no hoint in hahahing a hyootihal hah, oo oh!2"
"Hm, what a funny face. Looky looky."
"Ahn hust eak ahan igiah in a hight!"
"Hmm. Pacifica. I haven't been paying attention--you've gotten ugly recently."
"Who halt ih hat?!"
"I can't understand you. Speak human."
Shannon asked for the impossible. This sort of thing was surely just their way of being siblings.
"Ahn gonna hass ow!"
"You get along so well," Raquel said, sounding envious.
"You wanna give it a shot too, Raquel? It's a lot of fahh."
Pacifica had just launched a counterattack, sticking her finger into Shannon's mouth and tugging hard.
"Oo! Wha ah oo ooing?!"
"On't imme hat 'wha ah oo ooing'!"
Sticking their fingers into each other's mouths, the two siblings wrestled around.
"I feel a little like I'm being left out . . ."
Saying something along these lines, Raquel took out a handkerchief and clenched it between her teeth in apparent vexation. Well, this too was rather different from its usual sense.
"Gah, enough!" Shannon said, somehow managing to tear Pacifica off of himself. "You're gonna make my skin all saggy!"
"That's just perfect for you, Shannon-nii, since you've got early-onset lazy-old-man-itis and all. Being all wrinkly. Heh he~h, Grandpa, Grandpa, Grandpa Shannon."
"Don't go making up new illnesses."
"The Royal Medical Bureau is getting ready to announce its discovery."
"Quit your lying."
Having rendered each other's cheeks red and swollen, Shannon and Pacifica argued, and at that moment . . .
". . . um."
A refreshingly cool voice caused them all to turn around.
A boy stood all alone on the side of the road. He was around Pacifica's age. Judging from the longish cloak that covered him completely from shoulder to ankle, he was most likely a traveler.
Raquel tugged the reins, bringing the coach to a stop, and the boy jogged up to them.
"Excuse me for calling out to you so suddenly . . . Um, I have a small favor to ask."
Soft, chestnut hair. Aristocratic features, flawlessly formed. Rather than charming, beautiful would be the more appropriate description.
". . . er." Having drawn nearer, he seemed to have noticed the siblings' appearances. Turning to Raquel, the boy said, ". . . have these two both come down with the mumps?"
"It's not like that!" Pacifica shouted.
"This is the physical evidence of the deep love between a brother and sister," Raquel said, nodding decisively.
The boy looked Shannon and Pacifica over again, seeming rather taken aback, and then, in a nonplussed tone, he said, "Ah . . . I--I see. I suppose things are always more complicated than they appear."
"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" Pacifica shouted.
"So . . . what do you want?"
For some reason, Shannon asked this question brusquely, in sharp contrast to the boy's insouciant air. The boy--who seemed not the least bit troubled by it--smiled softly.
"Oh, that's right. It's quite a simple matter."
The boy stepped up to Shannon, his movements comfortable and easy.
"Would you kindly die?"
In that moment.
From the space between Shannon and the boy . . . the sound of steel echoed up and up into the night sky.
For a moment, Pacifica could not understand what had happened. She had witnessed the whole thing from beginning to end, but it had all happened so fast, it was probably beyond her comprehension.
A silver light had surged up from beneath the boy's cloak. As though swooping down on its prey, that light had clashed against the silver light that had slid up from Shannon's hip at the same time.
A katana and . . . and a halberd.
It is a weapon that uses centrifugal force to hammer tremendous blows into its target, but in the hands of a master, it is also capable of painstakingly precise attacks that rival even those of a sword. This may be true of everything, but a tool's efficacy depends on the person wielding it.
However, more astonishing than anything else . . . was the fact that such a lengthy weapon had shot out from beneath the boy's cloak.
Obviously something of this size could not be concealed by conventional means. It had been remodeled into a folding design. By using a swinging motion, the boy could unfold his weapon--which had been folded over on itself three times--and use the momentum to strike.
He handled his weapon with the kind of terrifying finesse that can only come from repeating those motions thousands, tens of thousands of times. He had an air of practiced ease about him, showing no trace of the stiffness that the tension of actual combat can inflict.
[Next] [Previous]
Notes:
1) See batch processing. Back
2) Most of these are unabashed guesses. If anyone else is better at reading garbled Japanese, let me know. Back
JESUS CHRIST IT'S CHRIS GET IN THE CAR(T)
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The Guardian's Melancholy | Part 3/7
It was a military-grade offensive spell . . . Mjölnir.
The assassin tumbled silently to the ground.
He had no particular external injuries, but every hair on his body stood on end, and his limbs were convulsing violently. He would have to live for some time with half of his body paralyzed, but the truth is, he was lucky on this count, and had reason to be happy.
Mjölnir's official use within the Leinwand Royal Forces is as an anti-personnel spell, and it has enough power to ensure instant death in a single cast. Of course, knowledge of its casting ritual is not available to the general public. Their mother had been a mage, and the fact that Raquel had managed to recreate the casting ritual by analyzing her notes--and what's more, that she could adjust the spell's power level to render it nonlethal--was a testament to Raquel's skill.
Moreover . . .
"Im . . . im . . ."
Shannon turned back to face the mustached man, and--in a voice that sounded like a groan--he said, "'Impossible'?"
He spoke in place of the man, who could only open and close his mouth like a fish, saying nothing.
"'There's no way you could cast an offensive spell using such a short incantation'?"
Given his surprise, it seems likely that the man had at least some knowledge related to magic.
It is certainly true that one cannot normally cast complex offensive spells using such a short incantation. For this reason, mages do not engage in close-quarter fighting, and on those occasions when they do immerse themselves in battle, it has become standard practice for them to do so while accompanied by infantry soldiers who are equipped for close combat.
"Ah, well, you see . . ." Her expression suddenly brightening, Raquel seemed quite happy as she began to explain: "It's called a batch spell1, and what I used just now was the absolute simplest casting ritual there is. You see, the first spell I cast, Emulator--which is configured separately from my own consciousness--both decompresses and executes spells that I prepare and compress ahead of time, so it's extremely effective at reducing casting times."
She said all of this in one unfaltering stream. This was an everyday matter to her, so perhaps she was just bursting to tell someone else about it.
"In other words, by using this casting technique, even a person who isn't a mage could temporarily--"
"Raquel, that's enough explaining."
"You think so?"
. . . Shannon, you meanie.
As though to say that, Raquel gazed at her younger brother with upturned eyes. When Raquel--who was like a very tall child--acted this way, she was strangely charming; unfortunately, it held no power over Shannon, her twin.
"Now then . . . Ossan."
Shannon walked over to his katana, which remained stabbed into the ground. Pulling it out, he once again turned to face the pallid, mustached man.
"You must have decided on your fate by now, right?"
The mustached man shook his head violently, over and over again . . . but his gaze was fixed on the glimmer of the blade that Shannon mercilessly raised overhead.
The coach traveled down the night-fallen branch trail.
The one who sat on the coach box, gripping the reins, was Raquel. Beside her sat Shannon. Thanks the attack by the mustached man and his fellows, they had fallen behind schedule, but they had now reached a place from which they could see a sprinkling of the town lights. It seemed they would be able to get some sort of evening meal at an inn.
"Hey, are we there yet?"
Pacifica had opened the passenger compartment's window and stuck her face out.
"You can see for yourself, can't you? We're almost there."
Shannon jerked his chin in the direction of the town lights.
However, Pacifica suddenly seized Shannon's ear, dragged it toward her, and shouted.
"What are you talking about, 'almost there'?! If you keep up that kind of laid-back talk, it'll be morning before we get there! Especially since you're so slow compared to other people, Shannon-nii! I'm tired. I wanna eat a hot meal and go to sleep in a soft bed!"
"Argh, shut up already!"
Well, it was not as though Pacifica's selfishness were anything new, but as one might expect, Shannon's ability to ignore her was not all that great either.
"Is this the mouth spouting that selfish crap? Wriggle, wriggle wriggle."
"Wha ah oo ooing!"
Wrapping his left arm around Pacifica's neck, Shannon had used his right hand to stretch out Pacifica's cheek. Pacifica kicked and wriggled wildly as she yelled at him.
"Ere's no hoint in hahahing a hyootihal hah, oo oh!2"
"Hm, what a funny face. Looky looky."
"Ahn hust eak ahan igiah in a hight!"
"Hmm. Pacifica. I haven't been paying attention--you've gotten ugly recently."
"Who halt ih hat?!"
"I can't understand you. Speak human."
Shannon asked for the impossible. This sort of thing was surely just their way of being siblings.
"Ahn gonna hass ow!"
"You get along so well," Raquel said, sounding envious.
"You wanna give it a shot too, Raquel? It's a lot of fahh."
Pacifica had just launched a counterattack, sticking her finger into Shannon's mouth and tugging hard.
"Oo! Wha ah oo ooing?!"
"On't imme hat 'wha ah oo ooing'!"
Sticking their fingers into each other's mouths, the two siblings wrestled around.
"I feel a little like I'm being left out . . ."
Saying something along these lines, Raquel took out a handkerchief and clenched it between her teeth in apparent vexation. Well, this too was rather different from its usual sense.
"Gah, enough!" Shannon said, somehow managing to tear Pacifica off of himself. "You're gonna make my skin all saggy!"
"That's just perfect for you, Shannon-nii, since you've got early-onset lazy-old-man-itis and all. Being all wrinkly. Heh he~h, Grandpa, Grandpa, Grandpa Shannon."
"Don't go making up new illnesses."
"The Royal Medical Bureau is getting ready to announce its discovery."
"Quit your lying."
Having rendered each other's cheeks red and swollen, Shannon and Pacifica argued, and at that moment . . .
". . . um."
A refreshingly cool voice caused them all to turn around.
A boy stood all alone on the side of the road. He was around Pacifica's age. Judging from the longish cloak that covered him completely from shoulder to ankle, he was most likely a traveler.
Raquel tugged the reins, bringing the coach to a stop, and the boy jogged up to them.
"Excuse me for calling out to you so suddenly . . . Um, I have a small favor to ask."
Soft, chestnut hair. Aristocratic features, flawlessly formed. Rather than charming, beautiful would be the more appropriate description.
". . . er." Having drawn nearer, he seemed to have noticed the siblings' appearances. Turning to Raquel, the boy said, ". . . have these two both come down with the mumps?"
"It's not like that!" Pacifica shouted.
"This is the physical evidence of the deep love between a brother and sister," Raquel said, nodding decisively.
The boy looked Shannon and Pacifica over again, seeming rather taken aback, and then, in a nonplussed tone, he said, "Ah . . . I--I see. I suppose things are always more complicated than they appear."
"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" Pacifica shouted.
"So . . . what do you want?"
For some reason, Shannon asked this question brusquely, in sharp contrast to the boy's insouciant air. The boy--who seemed not the least bit troubled by it--smiled softly.
"Oh, that's right. It's quite a simple matter."
The boy stepped up to Shannon, his movements comfortable and easy.
"Would you kindly die?"
In that moment.
From the space between Shannon and the boy . . . the sound of steel echoed up and up into the night sky.
For a moment, Pacifica could not understand what had happened. She had witnessed the whole thing from beginning to end, but it had all happened so fast, it was probably beyond her comprehension.
A silver light had surged up from beneath the boy's cloak. As though swooping down on its prey, that light had clashed against the silver light that had slid up from Shannon's hip at the same time.
A katana and . . . and a halberd.
It is a weapon that uses centrifugal force to hammer tremendous blows into its target, but in the hands of a master, it is also capable of painstakingly precise attacks that rival even those of a sword. This may be true of everything, but a tool's efficacy depends on the person wielding it.
However, more astonishing than anything else . . . was the fact that such a lengthy weapon had shot out from beneath the boy's cloak.
Obviously something of this size could not be concealed by conventional means. It had been remodeled into a folding design. By using a swinging motion, the boy could unfold his weapon--which had been folded over on itself three times--and use the momentum to strike.
He handled his weapon with the kind of terrifying finesse that can only come from repeating those motions thousands, tens of thousands of times. He had an air of practiced ease about him, showing no trace of the stiffness that the tension of actual combat can inflict.
[Next] [Previous]
Notes:
1) See batch processing. Back
2) Most of these are unabashed guesses. If anyone else is better at reading garbled Japanese, let me know. Back
JESUS CHRIST IT'S CHRIS GET IN THE CAR(T)
no subject
no subject
<3 the way Chris is introduced and the buildup to the appearance of his weapon.
no subject
And his "Ah . . . I--I see. I suppose things are always more complicated than they appear." Keep trolling, Raquel.