Chapter 4: A Meeting of Shooting Stars

“Bastian! I found a carriage!”

“Finally!”

Elize was rarely late to their arranged meeting points, but as Bastian wondered what could have happened to her, she returned with wonderful news. Her blonde hair bounced as she raced over. Perhaps she was considerably excited, as she was short of breath when she reached him.

“Hah... Hah... They’re parked a little farther down the byroad. The owner said they didn’t mind taking us to the capital!”

“Wow! I guess we really lucked out!”

They were currently in Wollalen, a town 20 lieue south of the capital. High Britannia had invaded from west to east, then fled north, meaning the region had not been touched by the flames of war. This had also resulted in the area being flooded with refugees who had feared being dragged into the conflict.

The inns were all fully booked, and so a great number of people were camping out on the outskirts of the town, either in tents or just with sheets wrapped around them.

Heinrich Trois Bastian de Belgaria had once hidden his identity to study abroad in High Britannia, while Elize was actually the High Britannian princess Elizabeth Victoria. She had been named as the late queen’s successor, only for Margaret Stillart to take the crown instead and send the army to claim her life.

One thing had led to another, and she was now traveling with Bastian.

Two months prior, High Britannia had declared war on Belgaria. The High Britannian populace were initially elated at the news, and they would go on to celebrate victory after victory—that is, until the Queen’s Navy was defeated in Ciennbourg. From that point onward, they had suffered a stream of consecutive defeats.

By now, every soul in High Britannia knew the names of the fourth princess Marie Quatre Argentina de Belgaria and her tactician Regis d’Aurick.

High Britannia’s defeats brought with them fear, paranoia, and a worsening of public order. Discrimination against Belgarians flared to the point that those living there feared for their lives. This, coupled with the warrant for his and Elize’s arrest, spurred Bastian to return to Belgaria, taking the young princess along with him. Another friend by the name of Roland was supposed to have accompanied them, but his notes were now all they had to remember him by.

After four days on a swaying ship, weaving their way through High Britannia’s security net, they had somehow arrived at a southwestern port. A messenger from Roland’s house had been waiting for them there, and Bastian had needed to deliver the sad news.

Despite their disappointment, the messenger still offered to take Bastian and Elize under House Tiraso Laverde’s protection. There was still a desire budding within Bastian, though. It was a vague emotion that he couldn’t quite pin down, but he knew he couldn’t just hide away in a distant land.

Bastian was the sort of person who immediately acted on any thought that came to him. And so, the two were headed for the capital.

Elize shared his perspective. “Instead of cowering in idleness, I’d rather learn all I can about the Empire.”

They had hitched a ride on a carriage headed in the right direction, blessed by fine weather on the first stretch of their journey, but that fortune only brought them as far as Wollalen. The situation there was nothing out of the ordinary: the area around the capital was a battlefield, and while the war situation was currently unknown, tensions were high enough that slews of people had fled and taken refuge.

The sight of so many refugees eliminated any incentive for their original carriage to continue, so the two had been searching for a new lift from morning to sunset. Bastian had started to believe that walking would be their only option—that is, until Elize found a driver crazy enough to take them.

✧ ✧ ✧

This is awful. The worst. The absolute worst. Where did we go wrong? When we joined forces with those damned High Britannians? When we agreed to guard those supplies? When we attacked the Fourth Army’s base? It was all going so well... It’s like I’ve dropped a first-class meal right into the dirt. No, my biggest misstep was failing to take out that Belgarian princess...

“Dammit...” Franziska sighed.

“Fran...? Are you all right?”

She had been glaring at the ground, muttering to herself, so it was understandable that someone was worried about her.

“I’m always right as rain. I can walk, I can breathe, and I’m cute as all hell.”

“I see... Talk to the ground too long, though, and a nasty faerie will pop out.”

“I don’t see any.”

“Oh dear. You should stop before it is too late, then. They will snatch your soul away, you know.”

“Gwuh?!”

“Keep your eyes straight ahead.”

The woman capable of saying such things with a straight face was her sister Jessica. Her light hair, ghostly pale skin, and slender limbs made it hard to imagine her as a mercenary, but she was a bona fide member of Renard Pendu, known by her comrades as “the Magician.”

Their last travel companion was Martina, the youngest sister. She was a mere ten years old, and she looked even younger than that. The braids she wore on both sides were apparently her attempt to imitate Franziska.

“You’re very cute, Sis.”

“Yay! That’s a good girl! You’re super cute too, Martina!”

Franziska ruffled Martina’s hair, her little sister’s eyes crinkling into a smile as though she were being tickled.

The three girls walked together down the highland path.

A thick fog had set in that night even though it hadn’t rained, and the High Britannian supply unit had lost their advantage even with the newest guns at hand. They had been devastated by the enemy’s cavalry.

With their vision obscured, Gilbert had determined it would no longer be possible to protect the supplies, instead deciding to lead his elites to charge the enemy base. Their foe numbered sixteen thousand, and even if they had assumed half those troops had been sent out to attack, that still left eight thousand at camp. Gilbert, in contrast, had had a mere three hundred men at his disposal.

This plan was more hopeless than any that had come before it.

Franziska would have joined them, of course, had Gilbert not given her a strict order: “Escort the other two to the rendezvous point, then wait there.”

“Why?! I can fight too!”

“I know you can! That’s why I’m trusting you to protect them!”

Gilbert wasn’t taking no for an answer. He was serious, and there had been no time to argue. Meanwhile, her mercenary comrades had smiled at her in ways that didn’t suit them at all.

“You take care of our magician, Franziska.”

“Protect that sister of yours.”

“We’ll win and be right back. Have a meal waiting!”

To hell with that! I ain’t your wife, and I ain’t your mama, neither! “Have a meal waiting”? Don’t screw with me! I’m only doing this because my brother ordered me to!

Franziska cursed at the men as she saw them off. She knew this was the last she would see of many of them, but surely Gilbert would be able to pull it off. This hopeless plan would succeed—she truly believed that.

But reality didn’t run on fairy tale logic.

The plan failed, and Gilbert was captured...

The famed mercenary brigade known as Renard Pendu was annihilated, and with her sorrow clear in her eyes, Franziska was forced to lead her two sisters onward from the rendezvous point.

Now they walked down a road with no end in sight. On foot, they chased after the Fourth Army that had captured their brother, following the countless footsteps and wheel tracks they left wherever they went.

A vast forest spread out to their left.

Franziska sighed. “Hey... Shouldn’t we go save him already?”

If she were on her own at night, Franziska was confident she could make it to Gilbert without being spotted, and once he was released, he would be able to free their captured comrades. There was no doubt in her mind they would be able to get away.

But Jessica shook her head. “You will only be throwing your life away.”

She could tell the future by looking at the stars. She had always foreseen their fortune in this very war to be sinister, but there hadn’t been any civil wars in Germania large enough to warrant Renard Pendu’s involvement, and the rewards High Britannia offered were quite enticing.

Mercenaries made their livings by constantly leaping into danger, so even now, Franziska did not think Gilbert had made the wrong decision. But nothing good ever came from ignoring Jessica’s predictions.

“Urgh... But if we just keep following them, they’ll eventually reach the capital... and that’s where Gil is going to be...”

The imperial army hanged all captured mercenaries. Following that trend, Gilbert might be executed as well—something Franziska very much wanted to avoid.

Martina was visibly anxious, while Jessica looked up at the sky. The sun still glistened in the west, glowering at their backs and stretching their shadows a great distance ahead. Of course, Jessica couldn’t see the stars right now, but she nodded nonetheless.

“...This is the right path,” she said.

“How d’you know that?!”

“The stars are telling me... to follow our brother.”

“There isn’t a star in the sky, but wow, they’re apparently talking to you! Ah, by God! I’ve had enough of your fortune-telling!”

“...It is astrology, a legitimate field of study.”

“Hah.”

“You need to pep up, Sis,” Martina chimed in.

Franziska sighed. “Martina, you’re my only comfort now.”

“There is no need to worry,” Jessica tried to reassure her frustrated sister. “Princess Argentina will not have our brother hanged.”

“And what are you basing that on? Did the stars tell you that too?”

“If she wanted him dead, she could have had him executed the day after his capture... The fact he is still alive surely means that she wishes to recruit him. Brother, and Renard Pendu... The fourth princess is in the midst of a power struggle with the second prince. She is at a disadvantage... She needs strength.”

Jessica was not just skilled at divination—she was an excellent tactician as well. That was why, impatient as she was, Franziska refrained from sneaking into the Fourth Army’s camp.

“Mn...?”

Franziska suddenly heard hoofbeats coming from up ahead.

Imperial scouts?

She heightened her senses, and that was when she noticed the noise was coming from behind them as well.

“Tsk... We’re surrounded!”

She reached for the small crossbow hung at her hip and got into position, swiftly loading a bolt.

“What’s wrong?” Jessica asked, tilting her head. She could read the distant future but was rather oblivious when it came to immediate danger.

An army patrol wouldn’t pincer them on a highway, nor was this a place one would encounter travelers or peddlers.

“Bandits!” Franziska spat.

“Eek?!” Fearful as she was, Martina reached for her knife. She was a child, but still an apprentice mercenary trained by the fearless elites of Renard Pendu, so she could hold her own against a normal soldier.

But not when outnumbered.

The thunder of hooves made it clear that there were a great number of horses. Franziska wasn’t confident she could fend them off while protecting both Jessica and Martina.

“Run into the forest!”

“...They are probably lurking in the forest as well,” Jessica commented.

Franziska tried to sense their presence, but she couldn’t detect anything. “Where?! Whereabouts?!”

“...Fran, how am I supposed to sense someone when you are unable to? I do not know, but they are there.”

“This is no time to mess around...!”

They appeared from down the road, riding horses. They really were bandits. At the same time, she could hear someone coming from the depths of the forest.

She was right! Franziska cursed to herself. Despite these being petty thugs, they had successfully laid an ambush, having anticipated that the girls would flee into the woods. She didn’t sense anyone to their right, but that was a region of endless hills where a horse would quickly catch up no matter how fast they ran.

“Tsk...”

There were around thirty bandits. They had really pulled out all the stops just to surround three young women.

Franziska glared at her foes. She didn’t have enough bolts for the task.

Shit. Shit. Shit. This ain’t good!

There were more than twice as many enemies as there were bolts in her quiver. Had she been alone, she could have stolen one of their horses and then shot down those who pursued her, but Jessica was unable to ride, and Martina was still practicing.

“Look at that!” Franziska exclaimed. “Your divination really is a scam! Who’s the one who said we should keep following Gil?!”

“How strange...”

“Your head is what’s strange!”

One of the horses brayed—a conspicuously large steed, from which a well-built bearded man lorded over them. He had scars on his face that made for the perfect features of a seasoned mercenary.

So he’s the leader.

The man exhaled deeply. Franziska was sure she could smell his foul breath even despite the distance between them.

“Hah, I knew it,” he sneered. “You’re Renard Pendu!”

“Huh?!”

Franziska’s eyes widened in shock. They know us?!

The man’s lips curled into a grin. “We were in the same camp once, back when I was in Germania. The moment I heard you stuck-up pricks lost to the Empire, I thought I’d show a bit of patriotism by hunting down your remnants. Looks like I hit the jackpot!”

His henchmen raised vulgar laughs.

What patriotism?! You’re just a beast slaughtering battered mercs to steal their coin! Franziska screamed internally. Her head was filled with a stream of verbal abuse.

Their situation really was the worst: they were up against former mercenaries turned bandits, more than she had bolts for, and it didn’t seem like the men were going to let their guards down just because they were dealing with women.

To think this was where Renard Pendu’s notoriety would rear its ugly head...

Should I take the chief hostage? No, there’s no guarantee his men actually value him. What if they turn a blade on Jessica and Martina while I’m busy? A sudden shiver ran down her spine. Wait, they’re aiming at Martina?!

“Not on my watch!”

Franziska stepped forward to protect her, but the bandits simply burst into laughter again. Even the chief was gripping his stomach as he kindly reminded her of the situation.

“You sure about that? We’re shooting from behind too.”

“Kuh?!”

One of the bandits behind them raised his bow. As expected, his aim was also on Martina.

Four archers ahead, three behind. I can’t cover them from everyone!

Had she been alone, she was confident she could have kept avoiding their arrows until she had taken out every archer with her crossbow. But as they were now, no matter what she did, Martina would be shot before she could take out the last one.

Her trigger finger quivered. She had hardly moved, yet it was painful to breathe.

“S-Sto... Stop!” Franziska begged. “Don’t take any more of my family away!”

“Oh, piss off, mercenary! Those soldiers you killed had families too, right? What makes you any better than them?!”

“Urgh...”

“Throw down that weapon of yours! We’ll spare your life, if nothing else!”

“Khh...”

Franziska could feel her eyes heating up out of sheer irritation, but she had no way of resisting them. She set her loaded crossbow down by her feet, raising her hands in surrender.

Martina clung to her, on the verge of tears. “S-Sis...”

“I’m sorry... Really sorry... Gil told me to protect you, but... in the end... I couldn’t do a thing...”

Jessica looked up at the sky, her expression even more indecipherable than usual. It seemed that not even the Magician could think up some brilliant plan to reverse their fate.

What now? Are we gonna be put to grunt work? Sold to the army?

The chief snorted. “Clothes off, while you’re at it.”

“Hah?!”

“You got a problem? How about we just kill you then, one by one?”

“Son of a bitch...!”

When she looked at this man, Franziska felt a stronger impulse to murder than she had ever experienced in her life. It was like there were firecrackers violently exploding in her head.

The chief narrowed his eyes, then looked at one of the other bandits. “Hey, shoot the small one.”

His subordinate gleefully laughed as he readied his bow. Martina raised a fearful shriek, and Franziska could do nothing but scream.

“Quit it, would you?!” she cried.

“You need to learn where you stand in all this, mercenary. Do you realize what you’ve gotta do? Well, do you?!”

“Kuh... Erk... I-I do!”

She removed her light armor, which fell to the ground with a clang. Tugging on a single cord was enough for her sleeves to detach, laying her arms bare. The bandits’ leering eyes repulsed her.

I’ll shoot ’em straight through the eye sockets, she swore to herself.

She loosened the ribbon on her chest. Once the lace running down her back had come free, her dress slumped to the ground in one hefty motion.

The bandits jeered like savages at the sight of her undergarments. She could feel a sense of danger much different from that of the battlefield—it was as though there were bugs skittering all over her body.

Her shoulders trembled not out of humiliation but hatred. She had clamped her teeth down so hard on her bottom lip that the taste of blood spread through her mouth.

“My apologies...” Jessica whispered. “It has arrived a little later than expected.”

“What?”

Franziska hadn’t the time to contemplate her sister’s cryptic words, but the presence of something racing through the forest suddenly restored her composure.

What now?!

It couldn’t possibly be human; it tore through the trees faster than Renard Pendu’s most agile mercenary. Whatever it was, it didn’t so much as hesitate as it plunged straight into the bandit encirclement.

What had appeared before them was a young man with brown hair, his eyes blazing a brilliant crimson. He looked to be around sixteen—no older than Franziska—and yet he moved so fast that it seemed everything around him had been frozen in time.

Perhaps because they had been so busy jeering Franziska about her predicament, the bandits only noticed the mysterious figure when he was already standing right in their midst. The crimson-eyed man took his position beside the sisters.

“The hell are you doing?!” shouted the chief.

“That’s what I should be asking you!” the crimson-eyed man replied. “Surrounding a girl like this and humiliating her... I’ll hear you out before I smack you, so out with it!”

It wasn’t long before the bandits were laughing again. The chief’s stomach trembled as he said, “Our reason? Well, you see... We’re bandits, you fool! What can you do alone?! You came here to die!”

Franziska grit her teeth. For a moment, the man’s superhuman movements had given her hope, but... their situation hadn’t changed. It was still hopeless if they were going to be fired upon from all sides, and their opponent knew this too.

“All right, boys! We don’t need the man! Get him!”

One of the bandits nocked an arrow...

“Ghh—?!”

Then immediately coughed up blood.

What was that...?!

The man had been right before them all just a moment ago, and yet a majority of the bandits still hadn’t been able to register it. Franziska had just barely managed to catch what had happened—the man had thrown something.

There was a fruit knife embedded in the chest of the blood-spewing bandit.

A throwing knife!

That in itself wasn’t too unusual, but he had thrown it such a considerable distance and with such speed that she couldn’t help but be taken aback.

The crimson-eyed man coldly glared at the men on horseback. “I won’t hold back to protect someone. If my enemies are out for blood, I’ve got the resolve to kill them.”

Rather than speaking to the bandits, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“Well, don’t just stand there!” cried the chief. “Kill him!”

The order was enough to spur the bandits into action, but no sooner had they drawn their bows than another knife shot through the air. This time, the target was wiser; he covered his vitals, only to take a second knife to the throat a beat later.

It was as if the man had a grasp on the movements of everyone there. The bowmen had him pincered on two sides—four ahead, three behind—but before they could even nock any arrows, the man had thrown eight knives.

At this point, not even Franziska could keep up; neither her brother Gilbert nor the current Duke Balzac had been this fast. Knives were said to be the swiftest weapon, but even still, this was an abnormal level of speed.

Franziska was the one being saved, and yet a shudder still ran down her spine. She was not the sort of girl to allow such a display to entrance her, though; she kicked up her crossbow, squeezing the trigger the moment it was in her grasp.

A needle-like bolt flew at the chief’s head.

“Gah?!”

The man was thrown from his horse, blood streaming behind him as he somersaulted through the air. A bolt had pierced through his eye and into his brain; Franziska had made good on her vow.

The rest of the bandits screamed and fled at once. I’ll hunt every last one of you! Franziska thought, slamming a second bolt into her crossbow, but her enemies already had one up on her—the bandits spurred their horses, while those who weren’t mounted ran into the forest.

In no time at all, they were gone.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Thank you, mister!” came a small voice. A little girl was suddenly clinging on to him.

“Whoa there?!”

Bastian was clearly flustered—not by the hug, but by the fact that such a small child had managed to take him by surprise.

“Ehe he he! I’m Martina! Who are you?”

“My name’s Bastian.”

“Thank you, Mister Bastian!”

“Are you hurt at all?”

“Nope!”

A girl around the same age as Bastian lowered her head. “Um... Th... Tha... you.”

To be blunt, he didn’t quite know where he was supposed to look. He knew the woman was competent based on her crossbow skills, but as things were, he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye.

“Yeah, yeah...” he murmured. “Just put on some clothes.”

“Hmph! Don’t look then, perv! Only Gil’s ever seen before...”

“I wasn’t trying to look!”

He was being wary, for what it was worth, but there didn’t seem to be a need. The girl picked up her dress and immediately fastened the ribbon around her, then slipped on her armor as though she had done so a hundred times before. While she dressed, the oldest looking of the three—a woman who gave off a serene impression—offered a deep bow.

“Thank you. My name is Jessica.”

“You really drew the short straw there, being surrounded by all those bandits.”

“Perhaps, but thanks to that, we ran into you, Bastian.”

“Me?” he asked, looking at her curiously.

The girl who had quickly gotten her appearance in order butted in as soon as she could. “Bastian, was it?! Did you run all the way through that forest? Are you really human? I mean, how’s anyone supposed to go that fast?!”

“Hah... I didn’t run that far. I was riding a carriage a bit farther down the road when I heard some horses, so I decided to scout ahead just in case, as you do. I told them to follow a short ways behind, so they should be here soon...”

Bastian turned and squinted until, eventually, the carriage he had chartered from Wollalen came into view. Elize was leaning out from inside, fervently waving her hands. She was so desperate to see him that she jumped out the moment they were nearby, rushing over at once.

“Bastian!”

“Hey now, I’m not going anywhere.”

“U-Um... Who are they...?”

“Get this, they were surrounded by bandits...” he began, going on to explain the details.

Once again, Jessica and Martina introduced themselves. Elize responded by telling them she was an exchange student from High Britannia.

Jessica turned to the girl with the crossbow. “You too... Introduce yourself, would you?”

“Urgh... I-I know. Um... It’s Franziska. You got that?!”

“I see. Did they hurt you anywhere?”

“Not where it counts. Managed to piss me the hell off, though.”

“R-Right.”

“Where are you headed, Bastian?” Jessica asked calmly.

“We’re thinking of taking a detour around the battlefield to drop by the capital. Not that I know what’s going on there at the moment...”

“My, my. What a coincidence. We were just on our way there ourselves.”

“Jess?!” Franziska exclaimed in surprise, but a stern look from her sister was all it took to make her shut her mouth.

Bastian cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing... Given that we were just attacked, Franziska is a little on edge.”

“Makes sense.”

“It is very dangerous for three women to travel alone, though. If only we had a reliable gentleman accompanying us...” Jessica sighed, looking at him with pleading eyes. Martina, meanwhile, stared at them with great expectations.

Only Franziska pouted, her cheeks going red as she muttered, “Dammit... Can’t believe he saw me...”

“Um... What now?” Bastian asked Elize.

She replied as though the answer were self-evident. “It’s certainly dangerous for women to travel alone. There’s plenty of space in the carriage, so let them have a ride!”

“Is that okay?”

“I’m sure the cabman would prefer having more customers too.”

Bastian checked just in case. As Elize had predicted, the driver stated that he didn’t mind so long as he was paid.

Jessica produced a coin that was rare to see around these parts. “Will a thaler work...?” she asked. It seemed to be the Germanian currency.

The cabman accepted, and that was that—the three were along for the ride. Bastian and Elize sat beside one another on the right, while Jessica and her sisters took up the left. The carriage once again rattled into motion.

Bastian stared farther down the road. “According to the driver, we’re a day out from the warzone, so we’ll be taking a detour tomorrow. It’ll take three days to reach the capital.”

Jessica nodded. Martina must have been worn out, as she was already asleep. There seemed to be something on Franziska’s mind as she had quite the long face, but still, the carriage pressed on.

Slowly, the sun sank below the hills to the west. They had to prepare for camp before it got dark, and thankfully they had packed extra food.

Her expression unchanging as though she were wearing a mask, Jessica looked over at Elize. “Incidentally... why are you lying about being an exchange student?”