A Troll’s Reminiscences

-your happiness-

Lunch was mashed potatoes and sautéed pork, with herb soup and an orange for dessert.

Most of the faeries had already finished their meal and rushed outside. It was such a nice day, the perfect weather for throwing a ball around.

Only a few people still remained in the dining hall.

“Seniorious’s previous owners…” A woman with pale red hair placed her finger on her chin and thought for a moment. “Willem told me a little bit about them before. Do you want to hear, too?”

“Yes!”

Lakhesh, sauce clinging to her lips from being interrupted in the middle of eating, eagerly leaned forward.

“Hey, sit properly.”

Pannibal, who was also still having her meal, tugged at the hem of Lakhesh’s shirt, and Lakhesh sat back down properly with a sheepish smile. Even Lakhesh, who was among the calmer of the faeries, was ultimately still a young child. She easily lost composure when something grabbed her attention.

“Let’s see. Willem said that he only knew two of the sword’s users who came before Chtholly. The first one was his sword teacher, a really strong and nasty old man, a real slob who was super-lazy but still incredibly powerful.”

The explanation made sense in a way, but it also didn’t.

Lakhesh and Pannibal both looked utterly perplexed.

“…What? That’s what he really said.”

“O-okay.”

They weren’t exactly doubting her, though.

“And the other was his junior apprentice, a girl taught by the same master. She was also really strong and really nasty, very mischievous and selfish, but still incredibly powerful.”

They kind of understood—but then again, not really.

“What? I’m not lying.”

“Okay…”

Lakhesh and Pannibal exchanged glances, silently saying to each other, “We shouldn’t have expected much.”

“And you see,” Nygglatho continued, “the both of them were incredibly strong and never ever lost in a fight. But at the end of the day, they were at the whims of a checkered fate. When Willem told this to me, he seemed so regretful. Even though he had always been by their side, and even though he always wanted to help them, he couldn’t do anything…”

That means—

“Which means Chtholly was the third.” Pannibal wolfed down a piece of a sandwich and crossed her arms. “Now it makes sense why he did so much for her. I wouldn’t say he was trying to make up for losing those people—it was more like a way to escape from his regrets.”

“I…I guess so.” Lakhesh looked down.

She could understand that assumption. But she thought that was a bit of a sad way to think about it.

She wanted to believe that the one Willem Kmetsch wanted to help wasn’t someone from the ancient past whose name she didn’t know but Chtholly Nota Seniorious herself, who had been here once.

Why couldn’t it be?

Miss Chtholly had seemed so happy back then.

Mr. Willem had been so kind to her back then.

“A checkered fate, eh?” a girl much older than Lakhesh and Pannibal muttered as she bit into her orange, peel and all. “I dunno who decided it should be that way, but I don’t find it very funny that they decided to treat our Chtholly differently.” Her cheeks moved vigorously, munching on her food, and she added sourly, “…And Lakhesh.”

Nygglatho tilted her head slightly. “I think that might be different.”

“…What is?”

“There’s no such thing as a fate that isn’t special. I wouldn’t even say they were chosen by the sword. Everyone lives according to their own special and valuable destiny. Chtholly, her seniors from the distant past, and of course Lakhesh were all simply special in a very similar way.”

“…No, that’s not really what I’m talking about.”

“It is what you’re talking about. I am firmly against any lines of thought that might invite discrimination among our girls. Firmly.”

“That’s also not what I’m… Gah, I don’t know anymore.”

Nygglatho poured tea for the small group. “Fate is, in the end, nothing more than that,” she said, smiling. “It only sets the stage for you. Perhaps it means your choices in how you live your life aren’t limitless, but everyone still has the chance to make those choices. In that way, everyone has the right to be proud of their own life, that they were the one who chose this path. No matter what sort of path they were born on, that person’s life belongs to them. If not, then that would mean all your lives would have been over the moment you were born, that you are nothing but pitiful things, no?”

“…Tch. You sound like Rhan when you say that.” Nopht looked away, sulking slightly.

“Hmm. Makes sense that you, as our senior in life, would say something so refined. It’s important for someone whose life has already been marked as over to walk forward with pride,” Pannibal said pensively. Lakhesh thought for a moment.

A life that had already been marked as over.

A limited set of choices would surely present themselves one day.

How would she—Lakhesh Nyx Seniorious, newly matured faerie soldier—live her life from here on out? What would she face, and what would she choose?

“…Hmm…”

She still had no frame of reference for this checkered fate or whatnot that would surely come to her one day. It was hard to picture it.

Let’s say… Yeah, let’s say she dreamed up something nice—what would happen if she, like Miss Chtholly, met a good-looking man like Mr. Willem?

He would be strong and kind but possessing a sort of weakness that she couldn’t ignore, one that would make her want to always stay by his side and support him.

Then…

Would she fight for him?

Could she make her way to battle with a smile as fear chipped away at her on the inside?

…I dunno. That doesn’t feel quite right…

Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with fate, and Chtholly was just special. That’s the conclusion Lakhesh wanted to escape to.

Chtholly had been so strong.

And so tough.

Even when heading toward a battle that meant casting her life away, she was never upset or afraid, and she spent her days undaunted. At least, she never showed any weakness in front of the younger faeries.

That’s why Lakhesh didn’t know.

She couldn’t even imagine how Chtholly Nota Seniorious felt when she faced her own destiny and her own love—

“…”

Lakhesh squeezed her hands tighter, which were still wrapped around the small cup.

Faint ripples crossed the surface of the sweet milk tea inside.