Chapter 5: That Feeling Is Rage

In Berun, the royal capital, national embassies stood side by side around the palace, interspersed with noble mansions. The largest embassy was for Yamato, an island nation in the east and the foremost of Wiltia’s allies. It was a country that belonged to the Aesia continent, with a very different cultural identity than Wiltia’s continent of Europea.

The hardest thing about living in a foreign country isn’t the language barrier or differences in custom. It’s the food.

“Well, it finally came, Amaki.”

Yamamoto was the ambassador from Yamato. After opening a wooden crate that had arrived from home, he smiled broadly at the food packed inside.

Differences in the food culture from one continent to the next can be very distinct. The people of the nation of Yamato rarely ate meat until half a century ago for religious reasons. The meals on the continent of Europea, with its meat-heavy food culture, didn’t agree with the people of Yamato, but that was a problem regardless of whether they were tasty or not. Once every few days might be fine, but three times a day was too much meat.

“There! Soy sauce, miso, mirin... Oh! And pickled plum and rice! Even the type of rice is different here.”

Yamamoto was immensely pleased. He had asked to have foodstuffs shipped to the embassy, but it was expensive and took a long time, and they received limited amounts. Thus, this supply, delivered once every two months, was the only comfort the embassy staff members had.

“Oh... What’s the matter, Amaki?”

Suzuka Amaki usually claimed dibs on seaweed, dried bonito, and white miso, since she was picky about soup stock.

“What a mess...”

Suzuka mumbled in the official language of Wiltia, not the language of Yamato. She held a newspaper published by a progressive company in Wiltia.

“You just mumbled to yourself in Wiltian. You must really be assimilating to life here!”

Yamamoto spoke again, this time in Wiltian with an accent, instead of his mother tongue.

“Sorry, Ambassador. But I just ran across some intriguing news.”

Suzuka quickly switched back to the language of Yamato.

“What is it?”

Yamamoto was curious to know what interested Suzuka, who wielded budo and was even called the Yamato Embassy’s ultimate weapon.

“It says Miroslav is on trial in the Pelfe area.”

“Miroslav... Oh, the last of the terrorists who caused the disturbance that resulted in martial law?”

“Yes. According to our research, he was a small time crook—obviously just a thug hired for local use.”

Not all jobs at the embassy entailed official foreign diplomacy. The staff also obtained information about the host country and researched behind-the-scenes, outside regular procedures, so their home country would be able to negotiate to its benefit.

“Usually, this would amount to nothing more than a small time crook living in poverty who turned to crime and accidentally got involved with terrorists.”

But not this time.

“Do you think the Peace Faith is involved?” Yamato asked.

“Yes.”

Suzuka responded with a sigh.

The Peace Faith engaged in excessive and aggressive activities across borders. They would do anything for peace and freedom, even kill. They sometimes engaged in large-scale suicide missions involving civilians. Each nation struggled to handle the group and prevent its terrorist activities.

“And the August Federation is behind them.”

The August Federation was a large nation to the north that Wiltia and Yamato had fought against during the Great War. It had once been a monarchy, but a revolution had ended in the death of its royalty and the establishment of a new nation with the mandate of equality for all workers.

The government wasn’t just for show. With enormous force, August had pushed south, claiming to be liberators as they invaded one country after another and then absorbed them into the federation. If August hadn’t lost the Great European War, its momentum would have carried it further to swallow the entire eastern half of the continent.

“They use extremist ideologues to force enemy nations to reduce arms, renounce resistance in the name of peace, and welcome the aggressors as liberators.”

A few months ago, Suzuka had witnessed their methods at the officer’s school she had infiltrated. If such a situation existed at an organization with military ties, then there was no way to determine how thoroughly the group had permeated the civilian population.

“In recent years, it has become a problem in Yamato, too. On the surface, its members mix with the upstanding citizens. They’re a troublesome bunch.”

Yamamoto sighed, too.

“It seems they’ve set their eyes on Miroslav. By presenting him as a revolutionary who resisted bravely until the end, they’re trying to sow distrust among Pelfians against the Wiltian government for treating him like a criminal.”

Even if Miroslav received the appropriate punishment for real criminal acts, the Peace Faith would spin it as tyranny and oppression. Nonetheless, Wiltia couldn’t give him special treatment. Wiltia had a constitutional government, so making such an exception would be contrary to the rule of law.

“So Wiltia’s in a bind. Is that what’s bothering you so much?”

“No. I’m concerned about the man they’re using.”

The article Suzuka was reading said a former soldier had been brought from Organbaelz to testify. And that man was, of course, the former soldier Lud Langart.

“I think the defense is trying to catch a bigger fish.”

The newspaper had a photo of Mary Ville Mehl, an international lawyer invited from Greyten.

“I’ve seen her on lists of suspicious individuals requiring caution.”

Suzuka knew Mary Ville’s home country was Haugen.

“She’s trying to shift the focus onto the authenticity of the article in Weekly Global News.”

“You mean the false article?”

“Yes, it’s false. But it accidentally hit upon some truth.”

She was referring to Lud’s career and the massacre of Lapchuricka, which Wiltia had shrouded in absolute secrecy.

Dolly Anastasia, the author of the article, must have dreamt up the cruelest military operation she could imagine. Usually, pure guesswork wouldn’t hit the mark. However, with the insanity of war, reality can take on a hallucinatory appearance.

“The slaughter of Lapchuricka was supposedly just regular combat, but because anti-government guerrillas resisted, sabotage incurred civilian casualties. That was how they spun it anyway.”

After the war, the monarchy was dismantled for the reestablishment of Haugen as a republic. Haugen lost its military but was allowed a secondary police force just barely sufficient to maintain public safety. And the Wiltian military had stationed itself in Haugen, ostensibly for national defense. Given the circumstances, Wiltia could twist historical fact as it chose.

“Since Haugen was one of the losing nations in the Great War, it was too cowed to insist on maintaining an independent government. But Mary Ville is trying to turn that around.”

The trial was in Pelfe, but Pelfe was now a Wiltian territory. If Mary Ville could make Langart admit the magazine article was true in court...

“A slaughter took place, Wiltia covered it up, and Langart is the evidence. Mary Ville is capable of getting an admission from Wiltia, and if that happens, how do you suppose the international community will react? At the very least, the Peace Faith’s ranks will swell.”

“What an incredible woman! I can feel her tenacity. How many in our own country would fight so hard for their homeland?”

Yamamoto exclaimed in amazement at Suzuka’s prediction. Mary Ville Mehl was trying to rock the world’s largest nation all by herself and without any weapons.

“But is that her only motive?”

Suzuka mumbled again. Without noticing, she had spoken in Wiltian.

“I sense something bigger going on, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

It was hard for Suzuka to judge whether that feeling was a woman’s intuition—or just a worrywart’s.

“Objection!”

A loud voice echoed inside the court.

“I object, Your Honor!”

It was Sven who was speaking.

“You object? But aren’t you just Mr. Langart’s assistant?”

The judge was taken aback by Sven’s confident declaration.

“Indeed, I am Lud Langart’s faithful servant! And I was inside the shop during the matter in question!”

“Really...?”

The judge appeared to take an interest when Sven announced she had witnessed the hostage incident.

“Sven... You are in a court of law, so lying is a crime. The only people in the shop were Lud Langart, and the boy and girl he forced to slave away for him. It’s all there in the preliminary report.”

Mary Ville was quick to contradict Sven.

“I might say the same thing! Have you read the report thoroughly? I was inside the shop when Miroslav fired the gun. Besides, Master doesn’t make Milly and Jacob work! He pays them proper wages and treats them according to labor laws.”

Sven corrected Mary Ville’s false statements about Lud that she tried to slip in as established fact.

“I carried Master outside and requested help, so there should be lots of witnesses!”

“Indeed... In the report, it says a staff member carried Lud Langart outside.”

The judge on the bench confirmed that this was in the report.

“Hmm? You carried him?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Well...”

Sven looked like a small girl. But Lud was so big that even a large adult would have trouble carrying him. It was hard to imagine that Sven had carried him on her back.

“Humf!”

“Wow!!”

Sven sensed the judge’s doubt, so she lifted the long prosecutor’s table. She picked up the large table, weighing over fifty kilograms, with one arm.

“I’m confident I’ve got the brawn!”

“Yes... indeed.”

The judge blanched in shock. The spectators in the public gallery were too surprised to make a sound.

“Wh-Who is this girl?!”

Sven’s action had silenced even the icy Mary Ville. It was fatal to even slightly lose the initiative in a debate. And Sven wasn’t going to miss her chance to strike.

“You fail to see the most important point. Or rather, perhaps you tried not to see it from the beginning—or even to purposely divert attention from it!”

“What are you driving at?”

“Only one bullet was fired that day, and that bullet struck my master Lud Langart in the abdomen. According to the article, Master snatched away the gun and tried to kill Miroslav. How is it, then, that the killer was the one who got shot?”

“That’s simple. His victim fought back. Pitiful, isn’t it?”

“Oh my...”

Mary Ville countered Sven’s argument, but Sven grinned. Sven’s expression wasn’t like a hound’s when it has cornered prey. It was the face of a wise wolf, spying a trap and using it for a counterstrike.

“Isn’t that contradictory? Just now, you insisted that Master is highly skilled in combat and could easily suppress a normal person with a gun!”

“Agh!”

Mary Ville had noticed her mistake, but it was too late.

“It’s a little... it’s very hard to imagine an average person wrestling a gun from such a formidable opponent and springing a counterattack.”

“You never know! Desperate resistance by someone in danger just might succeed!”

“Yes, it’s possible.”

Mary Ville attempted a counterblow, but Sven was unshaken.

“Yes. You never know. The matter is unclear, and if it isn’t clear, there’s insufficient information for making a decision but enough to doubt the reliability of the article.”

If the grounds for an opponent’s argument are as inflexible as iron, then a single crack can make it break. Mary Ville was all too aware of this, so she ground her back teeth at Sven’s rejoinder.

“In the first place, this article is filled with questionable facts! A bank robber just happened to show up in Organbaelz, and he just happened to break into our shop, and he just happened to take Master hostage, and Master just happened to be a former soldier, and he just happened to be a former special ops agent, and he just happened to have been involved in a secret massacre... Isn’t there a whole lot of happenstance here?”

The truth can be the result of many chance occurrences, but as the saying goes, truth is stranger than fiction, so sometimes reality is what sounds least plausible.

Sven now used that idea to cast the situation in a new light.

“Such a series of chance factors strains credibility. If this were a work of fiction, the readers might forgive it but the editor certainly wouldn’t! And I would doubt the novelist’s senses! Which reminds me...”

Sven donned an unbelievably wicked grin as she spoke to Mary Ville.

“You... Aren’t you a novelist? As a pro, what do you make of that?”

“Whah?!”

Mary Ville’s temples twitched.

Sven was a humanoid Hunter Unit. Her technology was developed for the purpose of public intelligence operations. She could infiltrate enemies without arousing suspicion, get them to like her, and then probe their secrets. Her likable, appealing personality and attitude had been programmed into her thought processes and movement. And Sven had just applied this to provoke, annoy and anger her adversary.

In a debate, the person who gets hotheaded will lose.

That’s what Sven was gunning for.

“...............”

Mary Ville was very close to losing her cool. Sven was sure of it. However, Mary Ville was tougher than Sven imagined.

“Fwooooooo!!!”

Suddenly, Mary Ville exhaled.

“Ahhhhhhh!!!”

She exhaled so deeply that all the air was forced from her body, and with her next inhale, she slowly replaced it .

“Hm?”

Sven stopped talking for a moment when she saw Mary Ville’s behavior.

“Yes. You are absolutely correct.”

Mary Ville’s voice sounded calm again.

She flipped a switch to regain her composure! One way to maintain presence of mind when under stress is to have the body replay a certain action. This explains why a child will stop crying when given a favorite blanket or towel. In Mary Ville’s case, deep breathing had this effect.

“Very well. I understand your objection. Lud Langart didn’t try to shoot. Instead, he got shot. But why was that?”

“He tried to stop Miroslav from committing suicide! Master was trying to help him!”

“Ohhh...”

Mary Ville’s smile was broad. It wasn’t the challenging smile she had shown earlier. It was the opposite—a cheerful but extremely ominous smile.

“And where is the evidence of that?”

“Agh!”

The tables had turned.

Sven hadn’t been there when Miroslav tried to kill himself. She had plunged in from the roof immediately after.

“There were two children in the shop. That’s what the report said, but they were asleep until they awoke to the sound of a gunshot. So you have no proof of what happened between Langart and Miroslav.”

“Urgh...”

“It’s possible Lud Langart physically abused Miroslav. It’s possible that someone trained in combat and capable of dealing death with his bare hands attacked Miroslav. Isn’t that right?”

“Tch...”

Sven quietly clucked her tongue. She had advanced her chances of victory to 90 percent, but Mary Ville had knocked her back to 50 percent.

“Wait, Mary!” Lud raised his voice.

“Call me Counselor Mehl!” Mary Ville abruptly corrected him.

“Oops... sorry. Um, uh... What did Miroslav say? He knows what happened! Where is he anyway?”

This trial was supposed to concern Miroslav, but there was no one sitting in the defendant’s seat.

“He returned to the waiting room in the back when you entered the courtroom.”

“Why?!”

“Surely you know why. Victims are easily intimidated and can’t testify accurately in front of the perpetrator. That’s common knowledge.”

At first, Lud didn’t understand what Mary Ville was saying.

“Perpetrator? Me?!”

Miroslav was supposed to be the defendant, and this trial was supposed to examine his alleged crime. So why had Mary Ville called Lud the perpetrator?

“Perhaps you misunderstood. This trial is not to find Miroslav guilty of bank robbery. He’s a political criminal.”

A political criminal was a revolutionary or member of a resistance group who engaged in anti-government activities.

“Miroslav is an activist standing up for the Pelfian people who suffer under Wiltian oppression. Do you know what it means to arrest him and hold him in a jail?”

“Anti-government activities” sounds like a crime, but in a democratic nation with a constitutional government, the right to express criticism and to protest is allowed. So if it objected to people’s ideas and arrested them as criminals, as political criminals, the nation would be a dictatorship rather than a democracy.

“But... Miroslav didn’t have any money, and the terrorists approached him! Who said he’s an activist?”

“He said it himself. In this very courtroom, he declared himself to be a revolutionary fighting against Wiltian oppression. If Wiltia wants to punish him, it must admit he’s a political criminal and admit it’s a despotic state opposed to liberty.”

“But that’s ridiculous!”

Lud and Sven had completely misunderstood. Mary Ville had successfully misled them. Lud’s role in this trial wasn’t that of a civilian attacked by a burglar. He was being branded a Wiltian oppressor, not just against Miroslav, but against all the Pelfian people.

“If what the article says is true, Miroslav is a revolutionary with strong principles. If Wiltia wants to present itself as a democratic nation, then it must release him. That’s what this trial is about!”

“But that’s...”

Mary Ville continued haranguing Lud, who didn’t know how to respond.

“If it’s true you’re a former soldier and special ops agent who participated in a massacre, then this article is accurate. So I’ll remind you once more, Lud Langart. You cannot lie in this courtroom. You must answer the questions honestly!”

Mary Ville’s eyes radiated a cold light. It was the light of a young girl with a deep grudge formed eight years ago on the day of the destruction of Lapchuricka. And she had sharpened her claws and fangs in preparation for this day ever since.

That night...

The first day of the trial had ended with further discussion to be continued the next day. The participants went back to their respective hotels. The crux of the debate tomorrow would concern the validity of the article in Weekly Global News. The article wasn’t correct, but it wasn’t entirely untrue either. The discussion would be like an optical illusion where the meaning changes depending on the viewer’s perspective.

Miroslav was facing prosecution, so he was being held in a department of justice detainment center.

“How comfortable is it here?”

Mary Ville met with Miroslav, who had returned here from the courthouse after the first day of the trial.

“Well, I can eat as much food as I want, and the bed is soft, so it’s more comfortable than the outside word. Why am I receiving such good treatment?”

Miroslav laughed joyfully. At first, he was placed in a community cell with concrete walls. He had huddled with other detainees, and his actions were restricted. Now he was in a private room, which allowed the greatest freedom.

“This is all because of you guys, I guess. Thank you!”

“I just gave you what you deserve. The government has a duty to provide this, and you have the right to receive it.”

Without smiling, Mary dismissed Miroslav’s gratitude.

Barely two days after Miroslav was sent to the detention center, Mary Ville and her supporters arrived. They declared that Miroslav was a political criminal, and abusing him would infringe upon his freedom of thought.

Abuse of a political offender constituted thought suppression. However, exactly what constituted abuse was very vague. As a result, Miroslav was exempted from the restrictions placed on ordinary detainees. Furthermore, he was treated with special consideration as a guest.

“About that political criminal business, um...”

Miroslav uncomfortably glanced around the visiting room.

“Don’t worry. Eavesdropping on our conversations is forbidden. Defendants have a right to private meetings with their counsel.”

“Seriously?”

Meetings with criminals in prison, even in the case of consultations with lawyers, would be monitored, but this detention center was different.

“Is this really all right? I don’t have any particular political opinions. I just did what I did for the money, so...”

Mary Ville and the others portrayed Miroslav as a freedom fighter. In front of the court, a horde of her fellows clamored for Miroslav’s release and an end to oppression by Wiltia.

“It’s all right, Miroslav.”

Mary Ville reassured Miroslav, who was tormented by guilt over deceiving others with his lies.

“What did you do at that bakery?”

“I was in a jam and took some kids hostage.”

“No. You shouted about injustice and discrimination by the nation.”

During the hostage incident, Miroslav was desperate and confused. He had broken a window and shouted at the media outside. He had yelled, “It’s all because I’m poor! It’s not my fault! It’s society’s fault!!”

“You shouted, ‘If my actions are a crime, they’re a crime driven by poverty! Society is wrong for criminalizing the weak and downtrodden!’”

“No, I... I... I didn’t say anything difficult like that!”

“Well, I’ve altered it a bit, but for the most part it’s correct, isn’t it?”

By now, newspapers all over the world had printed this distorted version of Miroslav’s words. Even in Wiltia, an editorial in a progressive newspaper had lavished praise upon him. It declared him a “hero of the poor.”

“No, I mean...”

“It’s all right. Do you know who you’re up against?”

Mary Ville continued to persuade Miroslav, who was still nervous.

“You’re fighting against a monster that is the nation. You can’t win if you’re fastidious about how you do it. The nation has the power to twist something that happened into something that didn’t happen!”

Mary Ville made a tight fist. Her home had been destroyed and her family had been killed intentionally. But Wiltia had lied, claiming they were merely chance casualties.

“We must do the same thing! We can’t be picky about our methods! We have to change something that didn’t happen into something that did happen!”

“Oh...”

Miroslav couldn’t argue in the face of Mary Ville’s ferocity. But one thing was still bothering him.

“Um, what will happen to that baker?”

A small time crook would never understand large matters involving the nation and its government. But he felt guilty about hurting the scary-faced man who had desperately tried to save him.

“I might have caused him some trouble, but he’ll just return to his regular life, won’t he?”

“That won’t happen.”

The tone of Mary Ville’s reply was heavy and cold.

“What?”

“Whether or not he’s convicted of a crime, society will shun him. He certainly won’t be able to work as a baker again. But he brought this on himself.”

Miroslav didn’t know the true story. He didn’t know what had happened between Mary Ville and Lud, or about the origin of the name of the shop, or about how Mary Ville felt when she saw Tockerbrot’s sign.

“You don’t need to worry about him. Anyway, I have good news for you.”

Mary Ville again reassured Miroslav.

“You got bail.”

If a criminal is unlikely to attempt escape or commit further crimes, such as destroying evidence, the court can allow the accused to pay for a temporary release while awaiting trial.

If Miroslav had been facing prosecution as a bank robber, bail would have been denied. It was granted because Mary Ville had insisted that detaining him would equal thought suppression as well as abduction and detention by the state.

“So I can leave?”

“Your movements will be limited, but we’ll set you up at a hotel prepared by my support organization. It will be more comfortable than this place.”

“Oh, all right...”

Even this private room at the detention center was far better than the cheap slum hotels where he used to sleep. He couldn’t imagine what kind of hotel would be better than this. These people might be on his side, but they weren’t like him. When he thought about that...... a feeling a bit like fear grew within him.

“Um, who is your support organization?”

Mary Ville thought about the question for a moment and then answered with a slight shake of her head.

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

“Huh?”

“Lying doesn’t come easily to you, so let’s just say... um... this group is everywhere.”

That was all she would reveal to him. However, it only increased Miroslav’s worries.

“Urgraaaaah!!”

Meanwhile, in a cheap hotel in a corner of Ponapalas, Sven was ranting and raving. She and Lud were lodging at the hotel.

“Quiet down over there!!”

“Oops!”

It was a cheap hotel, and the walls were thin, so the lodger next door banged on the wall.

“Argh! Who is this woman?! Is her grudge really that bad?! Well, I guess it is, but...”

Lud came all this way to testify, but instead he fell into an ambush that amounted to a public execution. And what made it worse was Mary Ville hadn’t told any outright lies.

The way she’s driving Master into a corner is ingenious!

If Sven resorted to violence, Mary Ville would be no match for her. Sven was confident she could defeat her even if Mary Ville had a machine gun.

She just might be the worst opponent we’ve ever faced!

Sven had fought against terrorists, special ops soldiers, Hunter Units, the Schutzstaffel and all sorts of opponents, but Mary Ville was one of the most formidable. Mary Ville had used her wits as a debater so forcefully that Sven couldn’t help but feel that she was backing them into a very tight spot.

“I’m sorry. I’m not much help.”

The public prosecutor was with Sven and Lud. His name was Tagkinder.

“Usually, I would be the one opposing Counselor Mehl.”

The prosecutor was only twenty years old, about the same age as Lud.

“It’s not your fault. You’re still young, and you lack experience.”

“But Counselor Mehl has a shorter career as a lawyer than I do.”

“Oh...”

Sven had tried to cheer up the man, but instead she further dampened his spirits.

But she couldn’t help it. Mary Ville was internationally active and challenged Lud from a grudge she had held for years, while Tagkinder was a city public prosecutor. The opponent he was facing was out of his league.

“And as for this place... I’m sorry that I couldn’t get you into a better inn.”

“Yeah, well... whatever.”

Pelfe’s justice department had arranged for this shabby hotel.

“Our budget is too small.”

“Yes, there’s a recession everywhere.”

When the economy becomes unstable, tax revenue decreases and the budgets of public institutions suffer.

“This place wasn’t always a hotel. Originally, it was a low-rent apartment building.”

“So it seems.”

The rooms were average in size, and each one had a bathroom, toilet and simple kitchen.

“Thanks to the kitchen, at least Master is able to brighten his mood.”

As if to express her exasperation, Sven smiled bitterly as she spoke.

Lud was working in the kitchen.

“He really is a baker!”

Tagkinder put on a forced smile.

“Good! All finished!”

Lud was baking bread.

Ponapalas was a provincial city, but it was also the former capital of Pelfe. It had been easy to obtain the ingredients for bread, such as flour, salt and yeast. Nonetheless, the kitchenette didn’t have the equipment for fermentation or even an oven for baking. But Lud could still make bread.

“Wow... He actually did it!”

After seeing the bread Lud made with nothing more than a pan, Tagkinder sounded impressed.

“It’s easier than you think. You need the skill to knead dough, but you can handle primary and secondary fermentation with nothing but a pan.”

“It smells great!”

A gourmand once said ‘the best seasoning was just being freshly baked.’ The smell of bread right from the oven whets the appetite.

“Please, have some.”

Lud offered bread to Tagkinder.

“Can I? Thanks! This is delicious! Even without anything on it! It’s scrumptious all by itself!!”

After one bite, Tagkinder exclaimed in amazement.

“The texture is a little different from normal bread. It’s chewy—but wonderful in its own way!”

Sven had taken a bite, and liked it too.

“If you want, take one home with you. I’ll pack it for you.”

“Awesome!! It’s perfect for a bedtime snack!”

Lud wrapped a piece of the bread for Tagkinder to take with him because he had to prepare documentation for the trial tomorrow.

“Well, I should excuse myself now. Mr. Langart, we’ll do our best again tomorrow!”

After bidding them farewell, Tagkinder left the hotel.

“Despite it all, you baked delicious bread with nothing but a pan... and your skills, of course!”

“Oh, it wasn’t much. It’s not hard once you get the hang of it.”

Sven complimented his bread again, but Lud looked glum.

“Th-Then, we should keep this technique secret! If word gets out, it could hurt Tockerbrot’s business!”

“No, maybe it’s better that way.”

Sven tried to cheer Lud up but his face remained grim.

“Why is that?”

“If I tell the people of Organbaelz how to make bread like this, then they won’t go without, if Tockerbrot fails and has to close its doors.”

“Master?!”

Lud didn’t bake this bread to raise his spirits. He had given up on keeping the shop open. He just wanted to leave something behind for the townsfolk.

“Don’t say that!!”

Furious, Sven scolded Lud.

“Master, I understand how you feel. I know you regret your past.”

Lud’s sin was joining an organization and following their rules. But, if anyone deserved blame, it was the person in charge of that organization. The one who executed commands shouldn’t have to suffer.

“Are you saying a criminal should never be forgiven and must live in misery until he dies? I won’t stand for that!”

Lud understood her reasoning but still felt guilty about his past. He felt like a repentant criminal. Sven, however, wanted him to knock it off and spoke sharply.

“Master, get your head out of your butt!”

“What?!”

Sven was always on Lud’s side. That was why she spoke so strongly.

“You made Tockerbrot. It’s your shop, but it isn’t just yours anymore!”

It also belonged to the people of Organbaelz... When the protestors gathered, the townsfolk might also have been in danger. Nonetheless, they had stood at his side. The nun Marlene, Laurel the miner, and Jacob had all been angry, almost in tears.

“It takes more than an owner to make a shop! A shop only lives when customers start coming. So you can’t just call it quits!”

Milly, Lud’s apprentice, hoped to become a baker like her father someday. And Jacob’s mother, Charlotte, had smiled more since helping out at Tockerbrot.

“Does Tockerbrot really mean so little to you?! Is it okay for those people to destroy it?! Will you let that happen?!”

Sven had once been a weapon—a machine for Lud’s personal use. After Lud left his life as a soldier and went in search of his dream, she obtained a body very like a human being’s so she could follow him. She gave everything to follow him, so she didn’t want to see him give up his dream so easily. At this moment, her anger wasn’t directed at Lud. Instead it was rage directed at herself.

“Sven...”

Lud was momentarily stunned as he watched Sven cry, her shoulders shaking. He spoke again.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t give up.”

Lud stretched out his arm apologetically and clasped Sven’s shoulders.

“No, I won’t give up. I won’t give up because of this!”

“Master...”

Sven was still crying, but she smiled at her master, because he had regained the spirit to fight.

Tagkinder had left the hotel where Lud and Sven were staying.

“Are you the public prosecutor Mr. Tagkinder?”

The prosecutor was carrying the bread Lud gave him as he walked home, when someone spoke to him.

“Yes, that’s me. And who might you be?”

When he turned around, he saw a highly suspicious person wearing a black coat and a black hat pulled down over his eyes.

“Wh-Who are you?!”

Tagkinder shied away from him. A simple thief wouldn’t have disturbed him so much. This man looked like a sexual deviant or a murderer.

“Here.”

“Gah! What?!”

Tagkinder thought the man in black was going to pull out a weapon, but instead he handed him a large envelope.

“W-What’s this?”

“These are important documents regarding the Miroslav case.”

“What?!”

Tagkinder hurriedly checked the contents of the envelope.

“Have you heard of the Friends of Vladimere?”

Vladimere was the name of a principality that once existed in the east. It didn’t exist now, because the August Federation had invaded, claiming it was an act of liberation, and made it a member of its federation. The Friends of Vladimere was a mutual aid organization started by citizens who had fled to Wiltia immediately before Vladimere was taken.

“They appear to be people who fled August, but the organization is actually a front for covert operatives dispatched by August. Their goal is information gathering and political intervention. They donate large sums to the group supporting Miroslav. Those documents list their donations.”

There were also a few photographs inside the envelope.

“Those are photographs of staff members from the August Embassy having dinner with the editor-in-chief of the Weekly Global News. They’re connected.”

A weekly magazine with ties to August had caused the trouble, and an organization supported by August had intensified it.

“They’re stirring up trouble. If the source is from August, and those making it a greater problem are also agents from August, then with this evidence, the court will rule in your favor.”

It would cast doubt on the people holding Miroslav aloft as a revolutionary and on the article they brandished as a basis for their claims.

“Who are you? Why are you giving me this?”

The man in black laughed self-deprecatingly.

“I’m just a patriot. I won’t let that scum spoil our country. Think of me as a righteous man.”

As if the phrase “righteous man” was old-fashioned or theatrical, the man’s shoulders shook with mirth as he spoke.

“I’ll be looking forward to tomorrow’s session in court.”

The man then bowed and left.

“Hmm...”

Tagkinder walked on in silence, holding the documents. Then he stopped atop a bridge, checked to confirm no one was watching, pulled out a cigarette, and struck a match.

“Urgh... What a problem they’ve foisted on me!”

He mumbled softly and, instead of lighting his cigarette, lit the envelope containing the evidence. As if it had been treated with oil, the envelope was rapidly engulfed in flames.

“Oh dear...”

He tossed the envelope into the river. Even after reaching the water, it continued to burn. But the flames soon went out and the ashes sank into the river.

“Oh... This, too!”

He took the package at his side—the paper bag containing Lud’s bread—and threw it into the river.

“Ha! Why would I want to eat bread made by a Wiltian soldier?!”

Tagkinder spit out these words with hate, then struck another match, lit his cigarette, and headed for home. He didn’t intend to prepare any documentation for the trial. He would go home, have a drink, and fall into bed.

There was no way Lud could know what Mary Ville Mehl had said to Miroslav. He couldn’t know her reply when Miroslav asked, “Who is your support organization?” She had said, “They’re everywhere.” There was no way Lud could know. Tagkinder was a member of the Peace Faith. From the beginning, they had never had anyone on their side.