The Combat Baker and Automaton Waitress: Volume 4

by SOW

  Prologue: Child of Polpora

  When I was little, I heard adults call me a “child of Polpora.” I didn’t understand what they meant, so I asked my father.

  “What are you talking about?!”

  Before I could answer, he hit me. It wasn’t a slap with an open hand, but a blow with a fist. I wasn’t even five years old, so it slammed me against the wall. It really hurt. But even more painful was how my body cringed in fear at my father’s violence, anger, and hate. Mom saw and pleaded with him in a panic.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’s my fault! I’m sorry!”

  Those were her words as she wept and apologized.

  It didn’t look the way a wife would behave toward her husband. She looked like a criminal begging the executioner for mercy. It was a pitiful and miserable sight that suggested subservience.

  And yet the father would not forgive the mother. He hit and kicked her. He glared at us and shouted, “It’s your fault!” and “You’re both to blame!”

  That night, Mom held me tight. And as she held me, she apologized.

  “I’m sorry... I’m sorry...”

  Over and over, without explaining, she apologized to me.

  “I’m sorry I gave birth to you.”

  The words left a deep, permanent scar in my heart.

  Child of Polpora... Now I know what those words mean. They are ridiculous words that amount to no more than a superstition. And they are words that will follow me all my life.

  I am a child of Polpora, an ugly fairy child.

  Introduction

  Twwwang! Twang! Twwwang! Twang!♪

  This is the director’s office at the Royal Weapons Development Bureau, located northeast of Berun, the royal capital of the Principality of Wiltia.

  Daian Fortuner, also known as the Sorcerer, was the eccentric and genius scientist who created many new weapons, including the Hunter Units that led the Principality of Wiltia to victory in the recent Great War.

  Twang! Twannng! Twang! Twannng♪

  Today, he was wasting time playing a stringed instrument instead of working.

  “Yahaaah! La-la! La-la!”

  “What are you doing?!”

  “Gah! You startled me!!”

  Daian had started to sing a song, when Sophia von Rundstadt, head guard of the Weapons Development Bureau, suddenly spoke to him from behind.

  “Sophia, don’t you even knock on the door anymore? Well, given our relationship, such formalities are unnecessary. I’d give you the spare keys to my house.”

  “As usual, you come out with the wildest remarks! I’m certain I knocked!”

  Sophia would usually open the door before he answered, but she wouldn’t be so rude as to enter a room without knocking. Today she had banged on the door of his office as if punching it, and announced her name and title before entering, without waiting for permission. But Daian had been strumming an instrument, so he hadn’t heard.

  “What is that? Where is that folk instrument from?”

  Daian was holding a stringed instrument with a long neck that looked like a sitar or lute.

  “One of my friends from the East sent this to me. It’s called a jabisen. It’s made of stretched snakeskin. Isn’t it nice?”

  As he said this, Daian handed the instrument to Sophia so she could examine it with her eyes and hands.

  “Hmm... It has three strings. It looks a bit tricky, but...”

  Twang... Strum-strummm! After applying a large pick fashioned from the horn of a water buffalo, Sophia began to play effortlessly.

  “Sophia... you’re good!”

  “I’ve never seen this instrument before, but if you know the basics of stringed instruments, you can manage passably well.”

  Sophia looked bored rather than proud as she answered him.

  “I’m surprised. You also have an education in music?”

  “When born into a noble family, one receives training in such minor accomplishments. It’s a real pain.”

  Sophia’s family, House Rundstadt, was a well-known and upstanding family in Wiltia. Those in the noble class managed land, ran businesses, and acted as investors by managing their fortunes. However, that was not exactly “noble work.” So what was noble work? Simply put, it was to be noble. To protect the eminent family name, a noble must demonstrate dignity and behave in a distinguished manner.

  Sophia rejected all that. She would never like people who thought it was a sign of status to ride around in horse-drawn carriages when the royal capital of Wiltia had, not just widespread motorization, but the most advanced technology in the world.

  “There are many nobles who think that dressing up and attracting attention at balls is a matter of life and death. When you grow up in that world, you learn such arts.”

  “Uh... come to think of it, I do see children like that sometimes.”

  Daian had not been born to nobility. But, in military rank, he was an officer equivalent to a colonel, and possessed the title of baron. However, that was just an honor. He had the commensurate authority but not the power. Nonetheless, the monarchy and powerful nobles sometimes forced him to attend their parties. On such occasions, the nobles would present their children.

  “What’s that about anyway? I don’t see the point.”

  “It’s probably about entering society early in order to make connections. And to express power.”

  It was customary for noble children making their debut at society galas to perform for the adults by singing, dancing, and playing stringed instruments, which Sophia had learned.

  The mere fact that a child could study such lofty pursuits was a measure of a family’s power. Polish and sophistication cost money. The ability to engage in such expensive pastimes was proof of a family’s wealth. And a family with wealth and power was worth cultivating.

  “The children who appear at such scenes are dressed ridiculously.”

  “It’s painful to see a child not even ten years old wearing makeup.”

  In order to hire an artisan to design dresses for their child, a noble might pay an amount that a common family of four could live on for a year.

  And children grow fast. In six months, the dress that once fit perfectly would be unwearable. So they regularly had new ones made. This also demonstrated a family’s authority and power.

  “Come to think of it... I once saw something unforgettable.”

  “Oh?”

  Sophia spoke as if suddenly remembering.

  “It was when I was fifteen or sixteen... Eight years ago.”

  “You at age sixteen... Hmm... I’m interested. Do you have a photo of yourself back then? If so, could I borrow it? I’ll make a copy.”

  “..................”

  “Sophia, would you stop looking at me with such cold eyes... as if you’re looking at a maggot?”

  Daian was on the verge of tears as Sophia gave him the dark and icy look known as the Dragon Slayer.

  “If you don’t want me to look at you like this, then don’t say things to make me look at you like this!”

  “Sorry. So what did the beautiful Sophia see when she was sixteen?”

  Before continuing, Sophia heaved a single sigh of disgust at Daian’s typical flippancy.

  “There was a girl at a party. I had heard of her family’s name, but to be honest, her family had fallen to the point that I was surprised to learn it still existed.”

  The girl was wearing a dress that was luxurious and expensive, but to a noble’s eyes, it was obviously used.

  “She was seven or eight years old. Perhaps she was wearing a dress that her parents had scrounged enough money to rent.”

  For
what reason would a fallen family go to such lengths to appear in society? Was it to make connections with great nobles and gain their support? Or—and even more torturous for the girl—had she been forced to attend to satisfy her parents’ pride?

  “No one spoke to her. They all treated her as if she didn’t exist. She would have been better off as a wallflower. In all honesty, I pitied her.”

  And that pity had probably been an insult to her. The way this girl had remained still, her hands held in fists as if bearing the shame of it, made an impression.

  “I see. You saw a pitiful girl? I don’t want to be a noble!”

  Daian’s attitude clearly showed that he found the story less satisfying than expected. He had seen other poor souls constrained by their families, and he was sick of it.

  “No, it wasn’t just that.”

  There was more to the story.

  “When the party reached its climax, the nobles presented their children and finally it was this girl’s turn.”

  Perhaps it was merely a formality, or maybe the host had taken pity on her, but the girl from the faded family was allowed to display her talents.

  “She sang a song... and it was wonderful. She sounded beautiful, like an angel. I... No, it wasn’t just me. The gathering of nobles listened attentively, stunned.”

  The girl sang a song about an old myth from the time before the founding of Wiltia. It was a song in praise of heroes, courage, justice, and God. A song that asks for a blessing from God, the way heroes of old once did.

  “It was marvelous. After she had finished singing, there was thunderous applause.”

  “It’s impressive that she could elicit such a response from an audience with trained ears.”

  Nobles were the guardians of culture and served as patrons for artists, with a heightened sense for beauty.

  “If she was that well-received, they must have taken good care of her.”

  It was possible that a string of supporters would clear a path for the girl as a musician.

  “No. That isn’t what happened.”

  Sophia’s face clouded as she answered Daian’s question.

  “They all strongly praised her singing, but she gained no more than that.”

  Sophia’s face registered greater sadness. The injustice that girl suffered remained in Sophia’s mind eight years later.

  Chapter 1: Freeing the Wolf

  October 16, year 920 of the Europea Calendar.

  Organbaelz was a small mining town in Pelfe, a new region in the Principality of Wiltia. And Tockerbrot was a small bakery in town. After repeated expansion and renovation, it was no longer a small shop, and one day an incident took place.

  “Master! Master! Masterrrrr!!!”

  Lud Langart, the shop owner, was lying on the bed. The waitress Sven was clinging to him and releasing a flood of tears.

  “How did this happen?! Why?! It’s all because I’m not good enough! Why didn’t I do better so this wouldn’t happen?! Waaah!!”

  Sven cried, screamed, and raved. Her red eyes were puffy with tears and she was flinging around her beautiful silver hair.

  “Um... Sven? Why don’t you calm down?”

  Lud’s young friend Jacob spoke to her.

  “Ohhhhh, Master! If anything were to happen to you, I would be ready to go to Valhalla at any time... but this... this...!”

  Sven didn’t hear Jacob and kept wailing.

  “You’re overreacting.”

  The shop apprentice Milly spoke in a tone of amazement.

  “I curse you, God! How could you lay such a burden upon my master?! Come down here so I can give you a beating!”

  Sven, who didn’t hear Milly either, cursed God, burning with hate and trying to pick a fight.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Sister Marlene from the church atop the hill came in. She looked back and forth between Sven, who was panicked, and Jacob and Milly, who were shrugging their shoulders, as if to say, “There’s nothing we can do.”

  “Master! Don’t die! Don’t leave me!”

  Without even a glance at Marlene, Sven placed her head against Lud’s prone body and wailed.

  “Uh... um... Sven? Calm down, all right? I just fainted.”

  Flustered, Lud reassured Sven.

  “Buuuuut...!!”

  It happened thirty minutes ago. After finishing business for the day, Lud was preparing for the next day when he suddenly felt lightheaded. He didn’t completely lose consciousness, but his legs tangled, and he fell and hit his head on the corner of a nearby shelf. He only received a small injury, a minor cut with some bleeding, but when Sven saw it, she panicked, wrapped his head in a bandage, and forced him into bed.

  “I’m amazed. You’re really overreacting.”

  “No!! How can you talk like that, you nasty nun, when my master is injured?!”

  Sven raged as if she might bite Sister Marlene, who spoke again in surprise after hearing what happened.

  “I understand your worry. But telling him not to die is unnecessary. I could hear you screaming all the way outside.”

  And now neighborhood dogs had started to gather.

  “I told her I’m all right.”

  As he said this with a troubled expression, Lud unwrapped the bandage from his head.

  “Don’t, Master! Your wound hasn’t healed yet!”

  “This is just a scratch. All it needs to heal is a bit of spittle.”

  Lud attempted to calm Sven’s panic.

  “I’m worried about you, too—although not as worried as Sven.”

  Jacob, who had analyzed the situation calmly, spoke again. “Maybe you’re working too hard?”

  Lud fell simply because he felt lightheaded. He was, however, a former soldier. This kind of behavior was strange for Lud, who was noticeably robust.

  “Hmm... I guess so. But I never imagined such a thing would happen.”

  The reason he fainted was overwork. Tockerbrot’s business had been steady. The shop was now successful enough for sales trips to neighboring towns to reach new customers outside Organbaelz. And more customers meant more bread to sell.

  Supply and demand is fundamental. However, the production of bread had been insufficient to accommodate the increase in customers.

  “The problem is that only Lud can bake bread. Sven is a waitress, and I can help with shop sales but not baking.”

  When the bakery had been small and unpopular, Lud alone could earn sufficient, if meager, returns. However, it was different now. Jacob and Marlene came to help, but they were sales assistants. The same went for the talented waitress Sven. She helped with management, sales, and delivery services, but not with the production of goods.

  “The size of the shop is now twice as big, with two ovens and double the customer base. If Lud is making all the bread alone, it’s understandable that he might get lightheaded.”

  Lud was handling the work with the physical and mental stamina of his military days, but apparently he had reached his limit.

  “Sorry. If only I could be more helpful...”

  Milly mumbled with an apologetic look on her face.

  With the aim of becoming a baker, she worked at Tockerbrot as Lud’s apprentice. Each day, she renewed her efforts and tried hard to increase her baking skills, but her bread wasn’t yet good enough to sell to customers. So, she remained an errand girl. She felt sad about her helplessness.

  “What are you talking about? You’re still growing! If you could take my place after less than a year of training, I’d lose my position!”

  Lud soothed Milly with a gentle voice. This wasn’t pity or sympathy, and he wasn’t lying out of kindness. Lud was truly happy to see his apprentice developing the honesty and integrity to recognize the limitations in her own ability.

  “Y-Yeah...”

  Milly nodded and replied softly. Her cheeks blushed faintly. She looked small, but she would turn fifteen years old this year. Lud still treated her like a small child, but she had developed feelings f
or him.

  “Anyway... moving on!”

  Quick to sense the change in atmosphere, Sven immediately interrupted.

  “Even if we wanted to add to staff, we would need to hire a professional to bake bread, and that’s difficult.”

  “I agree. There’s no one like that in town.”

  Tockerbrot was the only bakery in Organbaelz. The town was originally smaller, but when the mine opened, its population increased. There weren’t enough specialists in proportion to the population.

  “Oops... I missed my chance to mention something...”

  Marlene spoke with a troubled look on her face. The reason why she came to the shop that day was to deliver a message from town hall.

  “Um, you know, it’s almost the season for Thanksgiving?”

  Thanksgiving, harvest festival, autumnal celebration... It went by many names, but it was a celebration of the year’s harvest, and a time to give thanks to God, and prepare for the coming winter. Even in a small town like Organbaelz, everyone took the day off from work for this occasion. The whole town pulled together, inviting entertainers and singers for a boisterous festival.

  “I have a request from town hall for Tockerbrot to serve food at the festival.”

  After saying this, Marlene showed them a flier about Thanksgiving.

  Berun was the royal capital of the Principality of Wiltia, and in the center of this city was the royal palace, and in a corner of this palace were the Schutzstaffel barracks. Originally, the barracks belonged to the regular army, but due to cuts in military equipment, it was now the Schutzstaffel’s facility for housing their soldiers.

  At the cafeteria inside the building, a young-looking officer wore an unhappy expression as she used a fork to stab sausages on a plate. Her name was Hilde, short for Hildegard von Hessen, a first lieutenant in the Schutzstaffel.

  “Damn! Damn!! Damn!!!”

  She was barely eating her meal, and instead, stabbed the meat—bam! bam!—with a fork, raising her voice in anger and frustration.

  The other Schutzstaffel soldiers around wouldn’t go near her. In fact, no one ever went near her. Regardless of rank, hardly anyone in the Schutzstaffel was friendly to her.

  “First Lieutenant, what is the matter?”