Chapter Three: The Weak Ones’ Fight

Yukinari hesitated.

“Good. Next.”

He was speaking to two people lying on their bellies. All three of them could feel a gentle breeze brushing their cheeks.

They were back on the observation platform, where they’d been the day before. Yukinari, Berta, Dasa, and Veronika were there. And just as before, Ulrike had set up targets.

Having confirmed that Derrringer worked and was basically accurate, Yukinari had decided to focus on improving the snipers rather than the guns. For that matter, Derrringer was so simple there wouldn’t have been much to improve even if he’d wanted to.

“...Mn.”

“Here goes...”

Successive gunshots. Currently, Dasa and Berta were on the rifles. They had already gone through more than a hundred bullets each, adjusting their scopes and trying to get a feel for long-distance shooting. Veronika had joined them initially, but it simply didn’t seem to suit her at all, and she soon gave up.

The targets were so far away that to the naked eye they looked like dots in the distance. You would take aim, steady your breath, and then gently—carefully, so as not to shake the gun—pull the trigger. It was a greater feat of nerves than it appeared.

“Hm...” Yukinari squinted, holding up the simple binoculars he’d made to use during sniping practice.

Dasa had missed. Berta had hit. In fact, her shots landed more often than Dasa’s.

Dasa was much more used to handling the gun as such. She was much more confident, for example, in the loading, firing, and ejecting that made up a single shot. Sometimes, when taking out the ammo, Berta’s hand would slip and she would drop it. When using a gun, ideally you keep your eyes forward, readying the next bullet by feel alone, a difficult task if you’re not used to it.

But for Dasa, who was used to Red Chili, Derrringer seemed confusing in many ways. That annoyed her, and her annoyance inevitably had an impact on her hit ratio.

Berta, on the other hand, had never handled a gun, and if that meant she wasn’t used to it, it also meant she had no bad habits to uproot, and as a result could accept Derrringer for what it was.

Actually..., Yukinari thought.

It was Berta herself who had come asking to be allowed to participate in sniping practice today. He didn’t know the specifics, but Veronika seemed to have said something to her. Whatever the reason, it was an unusually proactive request from her. In fact, ever since she had expressed her desire to be a sniper, she had seemed exceptionally focused.

It’s like this is all she has, he thought.

Dasa had Red Chili and her knowledge of alchemy. Veronika, of course, had such great martial ability that she could stand against Arlen and his knights. The two of them had other ways and means of fighting. But Berta completely lacked any such ability. It only made sense; that was how she’d been raised. It shouldn’t have been a source of embarrassment for someone who was neither a warrior nor a mercenary.

But Berta herself seemed to feel differently.

She appeared to have an innate talent for the sniper rifle, but her absolute focus also allowed her to acclimate to Derrringer very quickly.

At the moment of the shot, she would hold her breath. She would use only her finger to pull the trigger, bringing it straight backward. She was almost inordinately careful to employ these basics, which Yukinari had taught her, every time she fired.

The rate at which she improved was, frankly, startling. But she had one fatal weak point as a sniper.

“Ooh!” Through the binoculars, Yukinari spotted something moving at the edge of his vision. “Berta, do see that? Just to the right of the target. There’s a rabbit.”

She turned the gun to the right slightly—such a subtle movement that an onlooker might not have seen it. “Wha? Oh, yes. There is.” She was probably confirming the creature’s presence for herself in the scope’s circular field of view.

“How about rabbit for dinner? Take the shot, Berta.”

“What?!” she yelped.

She offered no further objection, though; after blinking at Yukinari two or three times, she put her finger back on Derrringer’s trigger. Yukinari could see that her entire body was stiff with tension, and he could see the tiny trembles of Derrringer’s barrel.

Berta held her breath. But she didn’t shoot.

Or perhaps more accurately, she couldn’t shoot. She couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger before the rabbit disappeared into a nearby clump of grass.

“Um, I— I’m sorry...” She let go of the gun and bowed her head so deeply it looked like she was about to offer an apologetic kowtow. “You gave me an order, Lord Yukinari, but I couldn’t... I’m so sorry...”

“How many times do I have to tell you, don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault, and I’m not angry!”

“Yuki...” Dasa was glaring at him over her glasses.

“B-But Lord Yukinari...”

“It’s all right. No kowtows! That’s an order.”

“Er, y-yes, sir...” She nodded and sat up.

This was her biggest problem. An obvious flaw in a sniper, or anyone who was planning to fight. Berta was simply too kindhearted.

If sniping had been nothing more than a contest to see who could shoot a wooden target, she might have been nearly unbeatable. But Yukinari needed snipers who could be part of a battle. Snipers who could pull the trigger when their target was a living person.

Could Berta do that? Could he make Berta do that? It was a failing as a warrior, but not as a human being. It could, in fact, be considered a virtue, true proof of her humanity. But to become a full-fledged sniper, she would have to get rid of it.

That was why Yukinari hesitated. No matter how much talent she had, he didn’t know if it was right to make Berta use Derrringer.

●

In the reception room of the Schillings mention. Yukinari, Dasa, Berta, and Veronika had returned from sniper practice. They, Fiona, and Arlen were discussing what to do next after the sudden visit of Angela Jindel.

“A woman claiming to be a vice captain with a Civilizing Expedition from the True Church of Harris was here,” Fiona told them. “Veronika, I think she was looking for you.”

Veronika’s brow furrowed slightly.

“We were able to throw her off for the time being,” Fiona said, “but I’m not sure she completely believed us.”

According to Arlen, Angela Jindel was the Vice Captain of the Ninth Missionary Brigade, stationed in Aldreil. In addition, there were two other missionary brigades posted in the city.

“I think it’s about time you told me exactly what the connection is between you guys and this missionary,” Veronika said, glaring at Arlen. On reflection, Yukinari realized no one had ever filled Veronika in on the circumstances surrounding the missionaries in Friedland. He raised his hand.

“Let me field this one. It’s kind of a long story, but basically... I destroyed this missionary unit’s ultimate weapon. They didn’t want to have to admit what had happened to Church headquarters, and we didn’t want word getting out that we’d defeated a unit of missionaries. It would only earn us a reprisal from the Church. So, publicly, this town was successfully converted by the missionaries.”

“Ultimate weapon...? You mean one of those statues?” Astonishment crept into Veronika’s expression.

“Er, yeah...”

“And you defeated one? Alone? Those things can bury an erdgod!”

“Yuki also defeated... this area’s... erdgod,” Dasa said quietly.

“I’ve, uh, got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Yukinari said with a shrug. “I surprised them.”

He had never actually used his powers of physical reconstitution in front of Veronika. Nor had she seen him transform into the black-armored body that allowed him to make fullest use of his abilities as an angel. There was no real reason to hide it from her now, but if he started trying to explain, the conversation would go on forever. Right now, they needed to decide how to deal with the threat from Aldreil.

Veronika leaned forward and said, “I’m willing to forgo the specifics for the time being, but Yukinari, are you saying you can single-handedly take on the Missionary Order?”

He was afraid he had a pretty good idea of what she had in mind. “Practically speaking, sort of. But even when I beat Arlen and his unit, it wasn’t easy. I had Dasa backing me up. I might be able to do it again if I were fighting a single unit. But two or more? It’d probably be hopeless.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do what you’re hoping.”

No doubt she wanted him to help her comrades who were being held in Aldreil. If she went back there to face the missionary units alone, she would be lucky to escape with her life, let alone defeat them. Hence she was hoping for help from Yukinari.

“But if you used this ‘Derrringer’ of yours to soften them up first...”

“You know how much noise it makes.” He shrugged again. “If they had a group no larger than maybe ten people, you might be able to cut down their numbers by sniping at them while they were startled, but that’s the best you could hope for. If they shut themselves up in a building, it would be hard to shoot them. I might be able to build a device to dampen the sound somewhat, but that means the gun would be harder to aim, or maybe less powerful, or less accurate...”

But above all, he doubted that Berta, their best sniper, would be willing and able to shoot a human being. There was an outside chance she would go along with it if they were only aiming at hands or feet, but of course, human extremities made tremendously small targets and were often in motion, making the shot that much more difficult.

“You’re trying to get out of here and back to Aldreil, right?” Fiona asked. She seemed to have an idea.

“Yes...”

“Then let me make a suggestion: let Friedland hire you.”

“...What?” Veronika asked dubiously.

Fiona looked her square in the eye as she explained. “Stay here in this town. I’m not asking you to give up on rescuing your friends or forget about revenge. If anything, this could be the perfect opportunity for you.”

Veronika shook her head. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Frankly, I really doubt this Angela Jindel believes everything we told her about what’s going on in this town. I suspect that as soon as she gets back, the missionaries in Aldreil are going to find out that Friedland wasn’t really converted.”

And that meant, most likely, that the knights in Aldreil would show up to convert the town at the point of a sword. It would be a matter of saving face for them. Chances were good that the effort would involve two or even three units of missionaries. In other words, two or three times as much power would be brought to bear on Friedland as when Yukinari had defeated Arlen’s unit. And there was no question that it would be coming soon.

“Assuming they don’t want to parley, and I doubt they will, we’re going to have to fight them.”

“I see where you’re going.” Fiona didn’t have to spell out her entire idea before Veronika grasped the point. Whether for rescue or revenge, Veronika would have a better chance against the missionaries after they had engaged Friedland—after their numbers had been whittled down.

“The perfect opportunity for me, huh?” Veronika said, irony in her smile. She seemed to have divined the real motivation for Fiona’s suggestion. Aside from Yukinari, powerful as he was, Friedland had very few people who could fight. Yukinari had passed out some Durandalls and taught people how to use them, but people who had been carrying nothing more complicated than spades and hoes yesterday were not going to turn into trained soldiers today just because someone gave them guns.

The problem was less one of ability than of mental preparation. Excepting perhaps crimes of passion and other moments of intense agitation, it takes no small amount of personal resolve for one human to kill another. Those who devoted themselves to the martial arts called killing someone “the first step,” and a distinction was widely observed between the time before someone had taken this step and after. But that only showed how difficult that first kill was.

The opposite side of this coin, however, was that the first kill was the hardest hurdle to cross. If there were someone who could take a group of new soldiers, put them into a frenzy, and get them past that choke point—then Friedland’s supply of soldiers might increase relatively quickly.

And Veronika seemed like she might be ideal for that role. Having her on their side would mean more than just one more powerful warrior in their ranks. It might mean being able to produce many more warriors.

“All right,” Veronika said, her expression softening for a moment. “Although I might point out that if I were to sneak into Aldreil while the missionaries were occupied with you guys, it would be easy enough to help my friends.”

She was right. That might be the real perfect opportunity for her. It meant that what Fiona was really asking her to do was to put off saving her friends in order to help Friedland.

“Treacherous woman! You utterly treacherous woman!” Arlen rose from his chair angrily, but Veronika was unperturbed.

“Calm down. I’ll take her suggestion. I’m a mercenary—I sell my life for gold. You guys saved my life, so that means you’re entitled to some payment. I have no objection to being hired by your town. It’s true enough that if we can get Friedland battle-ready, it’ll mean fewer missionaries for me to deal with later.”

“Thanks,” Yukinari said with a grin.

As far as hiring went, well, the merchant who had engaged Veronika and her companions had hired them first, and they were all still in Aldreil. It would have been understandable if Veronika had rejected Fiona’s suggestion in favor of rescuing them. The fact that she hadn’t implied that she felt something for Friedland.

“You have my gratitude, too,” Fiona said. “And Arlen?”

“What?” he asked irritably, arms crossed. “You want us on board too? Ignore all logic and fight with you lot, against our fellow missionaries? Is that what you’re asking?”

Arlen and the others had knowledge and experience of warfare. Perhaps not as much as Veronika, but compared to the townspeople, they were accomplished fighters. It was only natural that Fiona would hope they might join in the defense of her town.

“Sorry,” Arlen said. “But you’ll have to take my weapons and toss me in jail again.”

Fiona could only sigh.

●

He was angry. He was utterly angry.

Relieved of his sword and armor, Arlen said not a word as he was led to the storehouse built beside the Schillings mansion. Inside was a jury-rigged “jail”—more of a cage—made of wood and heavy rope. Several other knights were already imprisoned there. They, like Arlen, had been cooperating, patrolling the town and helping to guard the trade caravans. Those who had refused to help all along, as well as the knights recovering from their injuries, were in other locations.

The prisoners were complaining amongst themselves:

“Why now...?”

“So it’s come to this...”

It was understandable. They had come here as apostles of the True Church of Harris, believing they would gain honor by converting the ignorant frontier people, but instead they had been stripped of their equipment, taken prisoner, and treated in humiliating ways.

They had endured it all. And just recently, their treatment had improved slightly, and some of them had even begun to think perhaps they could accept the way things were. Until the Friedlanders decided it would be easier to throw them back in jail.

Only a sadist wouldn’t be bothered by this. And to add insult to injury, the person who saw them to their prison was Veronika. A mercenary of unknown origin who had simply drifted into town, bringing trouble with her. If it had been Yukinari leading them away, they could’ve comforted themselves that there was nothing they could do, that he was just too powerful. But having Veronika there just made them angrier.

But...

“...That Deputy Mayor seems to be a good person,” said Veronika. She was walking half a step behind Arlen, holding a rope tied around his waist. Of course, he would have to turn around to see her expression. He was curious what had moved Veronika to say that about Fiona, but somehow he felt that looking back would be a defeat, and so he marched resolutely forward.

Whatever look was on her face, she continued: “She might doubt you, but if she thinks there’s any chance you’ll turn on her, she shouldn’t go to all the hassle of putting you in prison. She ought to just kill you. Or if she really can’t stand to take your life, at least break your arms and legs so you can’t fight anymore. That’s what I would do, anyway.”

Arlen had no answer for the calm, cold words. Deep within, he knew she was right.

“She’s not even trying to use you as hostages.”

That would have been another way to deal with Arlen and the others. It wasn’t a certainty that Angela and her superiors would be moved by hostages, though; it was equally likely that they would simply attack, on the premise that real knights of the Missionary Order would never shame themselves by being captured alive.

“In short, she can’t have you going rogue on her, but she doesn’t want to force you to fight your former comrades, either.”

Arlen remained silent.

“It would be simple enough to keep you in line. Just take a few of the other knights hostage. Didn’t I hear more than half your unit is still recovering? Then they’re practically hostages already. She’d just need to remind you that if you betrayed her, she’d kill them. And yet instead she’s gone to all the trouble of setting up this ‘jail.’”

She didn’t exactly complete the thought, leaving her exact meaning ambiguous. Was she saying that this was an act of kindness on Fiona’s part? Arlen more or less understood what she was driving at.

“Get in.” Veronika pushed Arlen into the prison. He entered and sat beside the other knights. Then Veronika closed the palisade gate and locked it, the lock and key being the only metal parts of the whole affair.

The jail may have been a haphazard construction of wood and rope and a storehouse, but it was still impossible for the unarmed people inside to break out. The interior was relatively spacious, not built to be constricting, but the cage-like architecture made them feel they were being treated like animals, intensifying their frustration.

Veronika left. Arlen tested the gate to see if it was locked. Then he pulled off his boot and took something out.

It was flat, a folding knife. And not just a knife. Besides a blade, it included a pair of pliers and a little hammer as well. They were relatively flimsy, but they had been designed to be hidden like this; it was only to be expected that they wouldn’t be as tough as normal tools. They wouldn’t serve as weapons, of course, but they were more than enough to cut some rope or pull out some stakes.

This was what had been in the bag Angela had given him. Just as Fiona suspected, Angela had seen through everything. She knew the conversion had failed, she knew he’d been lying about the all-powerful statue, she even knew that he and the others no longer had their weapons and were being put to sundry chores. So, when she left the village, Angela had given Arlen an order.

“If you ever want to wash off the stain of your incompetence, you’ll do as I tell you.”

Soon, very soon, Angela and her forces would attack this town. She knew Arlen and the others would almost certainly be locked up somewhere before that happened. As Veronika had said, it was possible the knights would be killed or crippled—and in that case, there would be nothing that could be done. But if not, they were to break out of prison, retrieve their weapons if possible, and help Angela execute a pincer attack. Even if they weren’t able to get their weapons back, they could at least sow confusion on the Friedland side. This blade might barely be bigger than the palm of his hand, but it was large enough to press to Fiona’s throat, to gain a little leverage over Yukinari.

If he could do that, Angela would almost certainly win.

It meant Fiona had been right to be suspicious.

Arlen didn’t say a word, but only let out a breath as he stared at the knife in his hand.

●

When Veronika returned from putting Arlen and the others in the jail, she, Yukinari, and his companions met in the Schillings mansion to discuss what to do.

“As I said before, as far as I know, there are three missionary brigades stationed in Aldreil. Considering how important a base like that would be to them, it seems unlikely that all three would leave at once. So I think we can expect two of the brigades to come against us.” Veronika looked at a map of Friedland and the environs, open on the desk, as she spoke. “Most likely, they’ll split up and encircle Friedland, or perhaps go for a pincer movement by cutting off the main roads. I understand you’re tremendously powerful, Yukinari, but even you can’t protect the town from an attack from two directions at once.”