Bluesteel Blasphemer Volume 3

by Ichirou Sakaki

  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.”

  “Probably not.” Even Yukinari had no choice but to admit it. However great his personal strength might be, alone he would be defeated by sheer numbers. In particular, he would be defending, and it wouldn’t be enough just to put the city behind him. They could come from all sides, and he wouldn’t be able to respond.

  “Geez... What do they enjoy so much about doing this?” Yukinari muttered angrily, letting out a sigh. “If they want to believe in God, then they can go ahead. They’re welcome to pray—by themselves. But no, they have to force others to believe, too.”

  Veronika frowned as she looked at Yukinari, as if surprised at the suddenness of this.

  “I hate the Harris Church, it’s true. But I don’t particularly want to destroy other towns or expand my territory or whatever. Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

  “Because they think they’re right, I suppose,” Veronika said, almost a murmur. “And they want everyone to acknowledge they’re right. Because there’s only one truth.”

  “There’s as many truths as there are people,” Yukinari said.

  “I agree, but that’s not what their doctrine teaches. Their God is truth incarnate, the manifestation of justice. Their God is the only one in the whole world, and all others are demons spreading evil teachings. So truth and justice are one, and they acknowledge no others.”

  Yukinari looked at Veronika, his eyes narrowed, saying nothing.

  “Everyone wants certainty. They want to believe they’re correct. So they refuse to admit the existence of things that run counter to their ideas or beliefs. They try to eliminate them, if possible.”

  “...I guess so.”

  “When two people confront each other, if they don’t want to resolve things peacefully and so long as a more powerful third party doesn’t intervene, they’ll settle the issue by force. And usually, the defeated side loses everything. So you keep building your own power, making yourself stronger, in case there’s an enemy out there you haven’t seen yet. I’m sure it seems logical to them. Whether or not we think so.”

  “That’s a blunt way of putting it... Although I understand what you’re saying.”

  “Moral good and evil have nothing to do with it. If you want to protect your principles and convictions, you have to get stronger. It isn’t a question of whether you want to or not. But then others see you as a threat and take it as a reason to arm themselves...”

  From that perspective, the True Church of Harris might well perceive Yukinari as a threat to their very dogma. He might be living quietly in the country now, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t one day come at the Church with his fangs bared.

  “In other words, just having power makes you part of that dynamic, whether you like it or not...”

  At this point, it didn’t matter whether Yukinari had initially been pursued by the Church or not. The Church would never see someone with his power and his wish for autonomy as anything but a threat.

  “Yukinari, whatever your personal ideals might be, if you don’t want to be buried by other people’s choices and beliefs, you need strength. At least as much as the enemy you’re facing, or else you’ll be swallowed up.”

  So he needed to mobilize all the combat strength he could find in Friedland, whatever it might be. But that would mean sending Berta, Fiona, and the other residents of Friedland to war.

  “That’s really not what I want to do...” He gave a long sigh and hung his head. Perhaps it had been too much to hope that he could ignore the future when he had slaughtered members of the True Church in revenge for Jirina. But now he had no urge to go out and kill anyone. All he wanted was to protect those around him.

  But Veronika said curtly, “It doesn’t really matter what you want. If you don’t, someday, someone is going to get the better of you.” Suddenly an edge entered her voice, the sound of a wounded young woman. “I should know. That’s how I lost my father, and my home.”

  Yukinari couldn’t argue. In his previous life, he had keenly felt his own helplessness all too many times. He didn’t know what had happened to Veronika, but whatever it was, it hadn’t kept her from surviving to this day.

  Veronika said dispassionately, “If you want to try talking to them, first make them come crawling to you. Otherwise, you can never expect them to listen to what you say.”

  ●

  Tension lay thick on the town of Aldreil.

  Two of the three units of the Missionary Order stationed there were preparing to move out. They obviously weren’t going on a civilizing expedition. They were going to war. They had clearly found an enemy and were getting ready to move against them. And if two units were going together, many casualties could be expected.

  Two of the three statues of the guardian saint that loomed in the town square were undergoing maintenance so they could come to the battlefield. The people of Aldreil observed this with a mix of horror and resignation, hurrying by with their eyes downcast.

  “The Eighth Missionary Brigade will attack Friedland directly from the front.” With the statues towering behind her, Angela Jindel was addressing the assembled Ninth Missionary brigade. “As for the Ninth Brigade, we’ll take a roundabout route past the mountains to catch them in a pincer movement. In addition, as Captain Bateson hasn’t yet recovered, I myself will command on the field. Any objections?”

  The knights of the Ninth Missionary Brigade were silent. Some nodded in allegiance to Angela as she looked around the unit, but no one shook their head. She was the vice-captain anyway, and she was the one who had brought back word of what was happening in Friedland. With her knowledge of the situation, there was no one better suited to command—and no one who wanted to be out front in a battle whose purpose was to clean up the Sixth Brigade’s mess.

  “In that case, I’ll give you the detailed orders. Starting with First Squadron...”

  With one satisfied nod, Angela pointed to a map open on the desk in front of her and began to tell each squadron in her brigade what they would do.

  ●

  Friedland appeared to remain peaceful, at least outwardly. Or anyway, to Berta’s eyes, it looked the same as always. Fiona had decided that changing too much would create anxiety among the townspeople, so she ordered most of the inhabitants to stick to their normal routines, even as she spread the word about the possibility of an impending attack from the missionaries.

  Hence the farming and the development of the fields went on as before. If they abandoned the farms, then it wouldn’t matter if they stopped the invaders; there would likely be a famine. At the same time, however, they temporarily ceased any relatively complex work where Yukinari would have to give instructions.

  As preparation, they introduced a group of people—the young men who had formerly been the town’s volunteer safety force—to Veronika, who divided them into groups and began instructing them in various things that would be helpful in combat, like the use of guns, how to move as a unit, and how to communicate between units. As we’ve said, though, she did this quietly, to allow people to continue their lives and not unsettle them.

  Yukinari set about using his powers as an angel to produce bullets for Derrringer and Durandall. He also set up some traps they could use if the missionaries showed up with a statue, which they likely would.

  And Berta? She was doing as she had done so many days recently: she was up on the observation tower, practicing sniping.

  But neither Yukinari nor Dasa was with her. They, of course, were busy getting things ready in town, and Veronika was training the young men. So Ulrike had come along to keep her safe, just in case.

  Finger on the trigger—pull.

  A hit. Pull the trigger again. A hit.

  Open the gun, eject the spent rounds, load in the new ones she held in her left hand, close the gun again. And then pull the trigger, and then again.

  She repeated this for a long time. Even she thought
she was getting better.

  She was probably the best shooter in Friedland when it came to Derrringer. Some of it may have been talent, and she had an affinity for the sniper rifle. Incidentally, the gun Berta was using was the first one Yukinari had produced, the one she was most used to—even if Yukinari claimed the later guns were no different from this one.

  Shoot. Shoot. Tilt the gun and eject. Load. Return the gun.

  Shoot. Shoot. Tilt the gun and eject. Load. Return the gun.

  Shoot. Shoot. Tilt the gun and eject. Load. Return the gun.

  The target was already much reduced in size, but Berta could still hit it. Berta felt at one with Derrringer. She didn’t feel like she pulled the trigger so much as the gun let her pull the trigger, and perhaps that was why she did so well.

  Berta knew nothing about difficult military matters. But Veronika said that if an opponent came to Friedland with a large army, they were likely to do so from two directions. Because the missionaries would probably bring their statues of the guardian saint, they would have to take a road that could accommodate the huge wagons that carried the statues.

  Of course, they might well split up to encircle the town, but that probably wouldn’t be until they were closer. There would be no point to splitting their forces while they were still far away, spreading part of their army across the trackless countryside.

  It was most likely, Veronika said, that the attackers would comprise two of the missionary brigades. In other words, Friedland would fundamentally have to be on the alert in two directions at once.

  As was obvious from the fact that Yukinari himself had passed by the sanctuary when he first arrived, one of those directions would be the one in which his sanctuary lay. That meant this observation platform would be a superb sniper nest. Berta had already been practicing for several days, so she knew how the temperature changed around here, had a sense for how the wind would blow. From this position, she was likely to score plenty of hits.