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Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The Guardian's Melancholy | Part 4/7
He was quite the master.
"Pacifica! Get inside and stay there!"
Hearing the unusual sharpness in Shannon's voice, Pacifica readily obeyed. Raquel, too, jumped down from the coach box, so as not to hinder Shannon's movements.
Shannon threw the weight of his body against his opponent's weapon; the boy offered no resistance. He fell back instead--intending to waste Shannon's own energy in the process.1 Shannon used that opportunity to jump down from the restrictive coach.
"Amazing." The boy wore the same smile as before. "It seems you recognized me as an enemy even before I attacked, is that right?"
"Of course I did . . . What, some guy shows up with a totally colorless presence, and I'm just supposed to accept it?" Shannon replied, his voice tinged by a melancholy undertone.
A transparent, colorless presence. It was the presence of one who has purified himself to the point of inhumanity, who has cast everything, absolutely everything aside as insignificant. One who regards, for example . . . killing to be an especially insignificant matter.
"Haha, I guess I could use a bit more training, myself."
"Who are you?"
It was not a question.
In truth, it was nothing more than a formality, to confirm his suspicions.
"Royal Forces, Fifth Special Operations Unit, the Obstinate Arrows. SpecOps Combat Technician2, Christopher Armalite3. You can call me Chris."
If you could manage to return that boy's piercing gaze4 for a full count of ten, then you could probably manage to survive even in the jungle. Staring down a wild beast would be a piece of cake for you.
This is bad, Shannon thought, feeling a shiver run up his spine. This guy's dangerous . . . way too dangerous.
"Oh, that's right. Before you die, I'd like to ask you a question," the boy said in as good-humored a tone as ever, seeming unaware of Shannon's fear. "Before coming here, did you run into a gentleman with a mustache?"
". . . you a part of their crew5?"
"Technically, no. I was ordered to work with them. Apparently, they ran off ahead and attacked you without waiting for my arrival."
"If you're wondering about those guys, I dislocated all their joints and left them by the side of the road. If they get targeted by wild dogs or brigands or something, it's all over for them, but I've got no obligation to care about a bunch of hitmen."
"That's true. They really are hopeless, though . . . I may not know anything about the spirit of a knight, but it's worthless if you end up losing anyway."
First knights, and now a SpecOps combat technician.
Shannon sensed Raquel gasp in surprise behind him.
It seemed the Royal Forces were taking matters into their own hands at last.
Up to this point, the Royal Forces had never sent one of their own soldiers directly.
It had probably been to prevent the scandal of the Scrapped Princess from coming to light. The ones who had attacked them had generally been professional killers and mercenaries, people who took the job merely because they had been paid to do so, and who knew nothing of the circumstances. As long as they were people who had no direct ties to the monarchy, they could be cast aside at any time, amid persistent assertions that the Crown had absolutely no knowledge of them.
However, if the Royal Armed Forces had begun to take action--whether officially or unofficially--it meant that the Crown had grown so impatient that it no longer cared about appearances.
That posed a serious threat to Shannon and his sisters, in two senses.
One was the resources. It was nearly impossible for a lone individual--however strong--to win against the Establishment. If the military were to cast confidentiality to the wind and attack all at once, Shannon and Raquel could not possibly cope on their own.
Another was the existence of the palace knight corps--the Anwahl Knights--which comprised the elite among the kingdom's knights, as well as the several Special Operations Units that the Royal Forces employed.
Unlike those regular soldiers who had grown soft during the long peace, the people belonging to these organizations possessed both fighting power and technical skill far beyond those of the regular army.
Shannon had no idea just how powerful they truly were in practice, but judging strictly from this boy before his eyes, there could be no doubt that they lived up to the rumors . . . no, that they were even more formidable enemies than the rumors suggested.
"Hmm, that's a problem, though . . . Things would have been easier if you had killed them," the boy said, speaking these unthinkable words quite cheerfully.
His expression gloomy, Shannon replied, "Frankly, that would have put me more at ease too . . . Setting that aside for now, what are you going to do? We fighting?"
"No, sorry to attack and run, but I'll have to call it a night for now. I'm going to look for the others. If by any chance something were to happen to them, I'd get an earful from the higher-ups, you see."
The instant he said this, the boy leapt backward.
He lightly swung his battleaxe into the air, and--through some contrivance or another--the shaft easily bent back and forth. By the time the boy landed, that lengthy form had folded up neatly and vanished beneath his cloak.
"Oh, that's right. One more thing." Having turned his back on Shannon, the boy looked back over his shoulder. "Why are you two protecting that girl?"
Shannon cast a fleeting glance at the coach. Pacifica was nowhere to be seen, but Shannon knew that she was probably straining her ears from inside, trying to catch the exchange between Shannon and the boy.
"You must know about that Oracle, right?"
Shannon was silent.
That, too, is a kind of affirmation.
"That girl is a trigger of disaster, symbolizing a mountain of corpses and rivers of blood, a person whose very existence is an abomination," the boy lilted.
A carrying voice. Surely even within the coach, Pacifica could hear him. Of course, the boy was also fully aware of this as he spoke.
"No one will care if she dies. Quite the contrary, a great many people would rejoice . . . What do you have to gain from protecting a girl like--"
Chris's words cut off at that point.
Just beside his face, he grasped a dagger in his raised hand . . . Rather, he had picked it from the air6. Not by the handle. He held the blade, sandwiched between two fingers.
The dagger that Shannon had thrown . . . though not intended to kill, he had obviously not held anything back, either. Yet this boy had stopped the attack as naturally as picking a flower.
The boy playfully tossed the dagger into the air. The deadly silver weapon whirled up into the dark emptiness of the sky.
"Are you angry? You must be used to being told that, right?"
Shannon lowered his left hand, with which he had thrown the dagger, and exhaled shortly. It was not a sigh. The rage swirling deep in his chest had built up an unbearable pressure, and this was a way to relieve it, just a little bit.
It was true. He was used to hearing these words of accusation.
But even if he were to hear them a million times over, the sharpness with which they gouged into his heart would never change. That he was used to them did not mean he forgot the pain. He was used to it; that was all.
It did not mean he could no longer feel that pain.
His blood would continue to flow.
"Well . . . I guess it doesn't matter."
Leaving only an enigmatic smile behind, Chris turned on his heel once more. Watching his back as he calmly walked away, Raquel--for just a moment--showed signs of chanting an offensive spell . . . but she quickly stopped herself.
No doubt he would merely sidestep it anyway. Before that moment, it had never been in Raquel's nature to attack an enemy from behind, much less a child so young.
"So, the unthinkable has just turned up . . ."
Raquel nodded silently at Shannon's sigh-tinged words.
---
[Next] [Previous]
Notes:
1) Think juudou. The concept of juu yoku gou wo seisu ("softness controls hardness") seems particularly fitting, given that Chris is tiny, and Sensei often uses "soft" to describe his appearance and actions. Back
2) The text has sengihei (戦技兵). I also considered "Combat Specialist," but I think "Technician" sounds cool. The connotations are also more fitting to the story (though not because Shannon finds creative joy in fighting so much as he has a strong support base and a personal reason to fight). Back
3) ArmaLite, Inc. is an American small arms manufacturer. Back
4) The text has niramiai (睨みあい). In juudou, sumou, etc., this refers to mutual staredowns during the period of intense waiting at the beginning of a match, intended to give the combatant a psychological advantage over his opponent. Back
5) The text has ano renchuu no, nakama ka (あの連中の、仲間か). I can never seem to translate this kind of thing to my satisfaction. After all, how do you translate 仲間, really. Nakama is nakama, man. Back
6) Technically, the text says nothing about the air. It only has iya, tsumande iru (いや、つまんでいる). つまむ means to pinch/hold/pick up (as in "picking flowers," which is how it's used in the next paragraph), but just "he was picking/pinching it" doesn't really make sense in English, while "he was holding it" doesn't convey quite the right contrast to "grasped." Back
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The Guardian's Melancholy | Part 4/7
He was quite the master.
"Pacifica! Get inside and stay there!"
Hearing the unusual sharpness in Shannon's voice, Pacifica readily obeyed. Raquel, too, jumped down from the coach box, so as not to hinder Shannon's movements.
Shannon threw the weight of his body against his opponent's weapon; the boy offered no resistance. He fell back instead--intending to waste Shannon's own energy in the process.1 Shannon used that opportunity to jump down from the restrictive coach.
"Amazing." The boy wore the same smile as before. "It seems you recognized me as an enemy even before I attacked, is that right?"
"Of course I did . . . What, some guy shows up with a totally colorless presence, and I'm just supposed to accept it?" Shannon replied, his voice tinged by a melancholy undertone.
A transparent, colorless presence. It was the presence of one who has purified himself to the point of inhumanity, who has cast everything, absolutely everything aside as insignificant. One who regards, for example . . . killing to be an especially insignificant matter.
"Haha, I guess I could use a bit more training, myself."
"Who are you?"
It was not a question.
In truth, it was nothing more than a formality, to confirm his suspicions.
"Royal Forces, Fifth Special Operations Unit, the Obstinate Arrows. SpecOps Combat Technician2, Christopher Armalite3. You can call me Chris."
If you could manage to return that boy's piercing gaze4 for a full count of ten, then you could probably manage to survive even in the jungle. Staring down a wild beast would be a piece of cake for you.
This is bad, Shannon thought, feeling a shiver run up his spine. This guy's dangerous . . . way too dangerous.
"Oh, that's right. Before you die, I'd like to ask you a question," the boy said in as good-humored a tone as ever, seeming unaware of Shannon's fear. "Before coming here, did you run into a gentleman with a mustache?"
". . . you a part of their crew5?"
"Technically, no. I was ordered to work with them. Apparently, they ran off ahead and attacked you without waiting for my arrival."
"If you're wondering about those guys, I dislocated all their joints and left them by the side of the road. If they get targeted by wild dogs or brigands or something, it's all over for them, but I've got no obligation to care about a bunch of hitmen."
"That's true. They really are hopeless, though . . . I may not know anything about the spirit of a knight, but it's worthless if you end up losing anyway."
First knights, and now a SpecOps combat technician.
Shannon sensed Raquel gasp in surprise behind him.
It seemed the Royal Forces were taking matters into their own hands at last.
Up to this point, the Royal Forces had never sent one of their own soldiers directly.
It had probably been to prevent the scandal of the Scrapped Princess from coming to light. The ones who had attacked them had generally been professional killers and mercenaries, people who took the job merely because they had been paid to do so, and who knew nothing of the circumstances. As long as they were people who had no direct ties to the monarchy, they could be cast aside at any time, amid persistent assertions that the Crown had absolutely no knowledge of them.
However, if the Royal Armed Forces had begun to take action--whether officially or unofficially--it meant that the Crown had grown so impatient that it no longer cared about appearances.
That posed a serious threat to Shannon and his sisters, in two senses.
One was the resources. It was nearly impossible for a lone individual--however strong--to win against the Establishment. If the military were to cast confidentiality to the wind and attack all at once, Shannon and Raquel could not possibly cope on their own.
Another was the existence of the palace knight corps--the Anwahl Knights--which comprised the elite among the kingdom's knights, as well as the several Special Operations Units that the Royal Forces employed.
Unlike those regular soldiers who had grown soft during the long peace, the people belonging to these organizations possessed both fighting power and technical skill far beyond those of the regular army.
Shannon had no idea just how powerful they truly were in practice, but judging strictly from this boy before his eyes, there could be no doubt that they lived up to the rumors . . . no, that they were even more formidable enemies than the rumors suggested.
"Hmm, that's a problem, though . . . Things would have been easier if you had killed them," the boy said, speaking these unthinkable words quite cheerfully.
His expression gloomy, Shannon replied, "Frankly, that would have put me more at ease too . . . Setting that aside for now, what are you going to do? We fighting?"
"No, sorry to attack and run, but I'll have to call it a night for now. I'm going to look for the others. If by any chance something were to happen to them, I'd get an earful from the higher-ups, you see."
The instant he said this, the boy leapt backward.
He lightly swung his battleaxe into the air, and--through some contrivance or another--the shaft easily bent back and forth. By the time the boy landed, that lengthy form had folded up neatly and vanished beneath his cloak.
"Oh, that's right. One more thing." Having turned his back on Shannon, the boy looked back over his shoulder. "Why are you two protecting that girl?"
Shannon cast a fleeting glance at the coach. Pacifica was nowhere to be seen, but Shannon knew that she was probably straining her ears from inside, trying to catch the exchange between Shannon and the boy.
"You must know about that Oracle, right?"
Shannon was silent.
That, too, is a kind of affirmation.
"That girl is a trigger of disaster, symbolizing a mountain of corpses and rivers of blood, a person whose very existence is an abomination," the boy lilted.
A carrying voice. Surely even within the coach, Pacifica could hear him. Of course, the boy was also fully aware of this as he spoke.
"No one will care if she dies. Quite the contrary, a great many people would rejoice . . . What do you have to gain from protecting a girl like--"
Chris's words cut off at that point.
Just beside his face, he grasped a dagger in his raised hand . . . Rather, he had picked it from the air6. Not by the handle. He held the blade, sandwiched between two fingers.
The dagger that Shannon had thrown . . . though not intended to kill, he had obviously not held anything back, either. Yet this boy had stopped the attack as naturally as picking a flower.
The boy playfully tossed the dagger into the air. The deadly silver weapon whirled up into the dark emptiness of the sky.
"Are you angry? You must be used to being told that, right?"
Shannon lowered his left hand, with which he had thrown the dagger, and exhaled shortly. It was not a sigh. The rage swirling deep in his chest had built up an unbearable pressure, and this was a way to relieve it, just a little bit.
It was true. He was used to hearing these words of accusation.
But even if he were to hear them a million times over, the sharpness with which they gouged into his heart would never change. That he was used to them did not mean he forgot the pain. He was used to it; that was all.
It did not mean he could no longer feel that pain.
His blood would continue to flow.
"Well . . . I guess it doesn't matter."
Leaving only an enigmatic smile behind, Chris turned on his heel once more. Watching his back as he calmly walked away, Raquel--for just a moment--showed signs of chanting an offensive spell . . . but she quickly stopped herself.
No doubt he would merely sidestep it anyway. Before that moment, it had never been in Raquel's nature to attack an enemy from behind, much less a child so young.
"So, the unthinkable has just turned up . . ."
Raquel nodded silently at Shannon's sigh-tinged words.
---
[Next] [Previous]
Notes:
1) Think juudou. The concept of juu yoku gou wo seisu ("softness controls hardness") seems particularly fitting, given that Chris is tiny, and Sensei often uses "soft" to describe his appearance and actions. Back
2) The text has sengihei (戦技兵). I also considered "Combat Specialist," but I think "Technician" sounds cool. The connotations are also more fitting to the story (though not because Shannon finds creative joy in fighting so much as he has a strong support base and a personal reason to fight). Back
3) ArmaLite, Inc. is an American small arms manufacturer. Back
4) The text has niramiai (睨みあい). In juudou, sumou, etc., this refers to mutual staredowns during the period of intense waiting at the beginning of a match, intended to give the combatant a psychological advantage over his opponent. Back
5) The text has ano renchuu no, nakama ka (あの連中の、仲間か). I can never seem to translate this kind of thing to my satisfaction. After all, how do you translate 仲間, really. Nakama is nakama, man. Back
6) Technically, the text says nothing about the air. It only has iya, tsumande iru (いや、つまんでいる). つまむ means to pinch/hold/pick up (as in "picking flowers," which is how it's used in the next paragraph), but just "he was picking/pinching it" doesn't really make sense in English, while "he was holding it" doesn't convey quite the right contrast to "grasped." Back
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no subject
Date: 2011-08-08 03:09 am (UTC)"grasped a dagger in his raised hand"
how about "caught"?
"仲間"
I'm curious, what does it mean exactly? Google gives this list:
fellow, companion, company, associate, buddy, group, partner, comrade, circle of friends, bedfellow, footman
only group/comrade seem to fit "crew" so I assume none of these convey the real meaning?
no subject
Date: 2011-08-08 04:57 am (UTC)how about "caught"?
I think I explained that bit badly in the note. See, the idea is that the throwing and the catching happens so quickly that--by the time the narration gets around to describing it--it's already over. So Chris already has the dagger in hand. Now, the first bit implies that he's holding it the way you'd expect someone to hold a dagger after catching it (握って), then the second bit acts as a self-correction, saying, no, he's not grasping it so much as . . .
I'm curious, what does it mean exactly?
The True Companions trope was originally labeled "Nakama," and expanding the Anime & Manga folder will give you a bunch of examples/further explanation. The post-Baron Obstinate Arrows are probably a good Sutepri-verse example.
I actually intended "crew" as the translation for "連中," while "仲間" got reduced to just "a part." That said, it's kind of serendipitous that the Firefly quotation at the top of the trope page has Mal using "crew" to illustrate the point. X D
no subject
Date: 2011-08-08 04:24 pm (UTC)As usual, your translations are so nuanced.
just a thought - how about plucked for つまんでいる - both for the casually swift reflex, and the flower analogy?
no subject
Date: 2011-08-09 03:02 am (UTC)Haha, I actually had "plucked" for the first four drafts. Problem is, I kept obsessively checking the definition. It just denotes a bit too much force, while the point here is how effortlessly Chris stops the attack. Plus this way, I use the same word in both places, as in the original.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-10 05:35 am (UTC)