Bluesteel Blasphemer Volume 3

by Ichirou Sakaki

  Veronika frowned and began to drop back. She wasn’t going to insist on defeating the woman. Yes, she had entered the enemy formation of her own free will, but the situation was exceptionally dangerous. If the missionaries were able to collect themselves, Veronika would be completely surrounded, and that would mean the end for her.

  “Hah!” Still smiling, the female knight struck out with her sword again and again.

  Normally, in a battle of halberd versus sword, the person with the longer reach would have the advantage. But the knight’s movements were nimble and quick, and she was deliberately getting close to Veronika, pushing her back. Most of her attacks were stabs; she would move just enough to avoid the mercenary’s ripostes and then resume her attack with vigor.

  Veronika was unmistakably hard-pressed. Her wounds had only just healed, and her strength wasn’t completely recovered yet. The fact that she had been able to go toe-to-toe with the missionaries all this time was amazing, proof that she was a genius soldier. But even so—

  “You decided to fight me when this was the best you could do?” the female knight crowed.

  For each attack Veronika meted out, two came back. The woman had obviously been telling the truth when she said she had earned her position. She understood exactly the difference between her weapon and her opponent’s, and had chosen the best tactics to deal with it. She deflected the halberd, causing Veronika to drop it. Sensing an opportunity, she closed in, stabbed at Veronika—

  But to the woman’s surprise, Veronika met the blow. In her hand, which had held her spear just seconds ago, there was a sword.

  She hadn’t been forced to drop her halberd after all. She just wanted it to look like she had so she could switch weapons. Her opponent had been so confident that Veronika was unarmed; now, her attack hesitated. In that instant, Veronika closed distance and began a sword battle.

  Nonetheless, the female knight continued to mock her enemy. “You are a fool!” she exclaimed as she met Veronika’s challenge. Now blade met blade in shower after shower of sparks. “You couldn’t win with a halberd—but you think you can beat me with a sword?”

  It was true, Veronika was in trouble. Her weakened body could summon the strength for a stab, but lacked endurance. She was being put more and more on the defensive.

  “This—is the end!” The female knight brought her blade down from above. Veronika caught the blow with her sword; the two weapons locked against each other. In this position, however, Veronika, with less physical strength, was at a disadvantage. The female knight must have known that as well, for she pressed her attack with a triumphant expression on her face.

  And then—

  Boom.

  The woman’s body shuddered with the sudden, tremendous violence of the sound. Veronika’s sword was not just a sword. It was a Durandall. Obviously, she hadn’t been able to aim, so the bullet just flew off in a random direction. But the knight was clearly shaken by the sound of a .44 Magnum bullet being fired right next to her head. Or perhaps the noise had done something to her semicircular canals, so necessary to humans for maintaining their sense of equilibrium.

  Veronika seized the opening.

  “Yaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!”

  She spun, throwing her momentum into the slash. She was looking for the woman’s neck, but a hastily raised sword blocked the blow. But from her unbalanced position, she couldn’t fully resist the force of Veronika’s attack. The knight pitched forward where she stood.

  “Hrrgh?!”

  The sole of Veronika’s shoe caught the woman in the solar plexus. With the knight unconscious at her feet, Veronika stared at the men of the Missionary Order all around. They had been attempting to encircle her, but now they stopped. So did those attacking Yukinari, and so did the organist on the wagon.

  “...Thanks,” Yukinari grunted, and then he stepped back, planting his right fist in his left palm.

  He had made this thing before. The blueprints were in his mind, and the basic construction was blindingly simple. He would make no mistakes.

  A good, sturdy cylinder with powder and ammunition inside, and a detonator on one end. All he had to do was give it a good thump, and the round would come flying out—a disposable cannon.

  This time, though, he changed it a little bit—or rather, he added something. Specifically...

  “...Hrrrraaaaahhh!”

  ...he turned it into a massive tonfa, two meters long and fifty centimeters in diameter. It was basically a huge stick with a handle on one side.

  Grasping the handle that grew from the side, Yukinari struck the statue of the guardian saint a mighty blow, causing it to bend backward and reveal a chink in its chest armor. Yukinari shoved the cannon into the opening; the point-blank range ensured that there was no need to worry about the shot going wide.

  As soon as he had gotten the cannon in as far as it would go, the part attached to the back of the weapon was pushed forward by momentum, striking the detonator. A blast far greater than any gunshot erupted, and the cannonball flew straight into the statue’s heart.

  A reddish-black fluid spewed out of the statue, which went stiff as if it were a living thing. An instant later, the Missionary Order’s ultimate weapon fell to the ground with a dull thud.

  The missionary knights were in a state of shock. They had lost their commander and now their statue, and they began to fall back. They could fight to the death, but it would probably be in vain. These were people who could, when necessary, suppress their instinctive fear of death—but that was precisely why they wanted to avoid a situation that could only lead to their meaningless demise.

  Then, a shout came from the direction of town.

  “Leave now!”

  The missionaries looked to see what the commotion was. To everyone’s surprise, it was Arlen who came sprinting through the gate. He had his hands cupped around his mouth and was shouting at the top of his lungs. “The other statue has been destroyed, and its unit has retreated! If you don’t want to be pointlessly annihilated here, then go! Run!”

  The knights looked at each other as if to confirm that they were all of the same mind. Then someone shouted, “R-Retreat!” And the missionaries receded like an ebbing tide.

  ●

  The Missionary Order of the True Church of Harris withdrew. The wounded were carried on horses or loaded on the huge wagon, whose original cargo was now gone. Those who were unhurt took the rearguard, watching for any pursuit from the Friedlanders.

  Not that the villagers had any intention of such a thing. The wise choice might have been to destroy the entire unit, so as not to leave any unfinished business, but they simply didn’t have the luxury—or so Yukinari felt. There were casualties on the Friedland side as well, though they were relatively few. And—

  “Wh-Why do you not... kill me...?” a voice groaned from Veronika’s feet. It was the female knight who had been commanding the enemy forces. Presumably this was the Angela Jindel Arlen had spoken of. Veronika still had a boot planted firmly on Angela’s stomach.

  Yukinari, too, turned a questioning gaze on Veronika. Truth be told, he was surprised Veronika hadn’t finished Angela. Veronika was a mercenary, a professional. War was her business. Unlike Berta, she couldn’t be expected to hesitate to kill an enemy. She had, in fact, killed several of the missionaries in this very battle. And yet...

  “Excellent question. Perhaps I should,” Veronika murmured as if the thought were just now occurring to her. She watched the missionary unit disappear down the road. “But I have nothing to gain from killing you here. Or is that just an excuse, too? Maybe a bit of the local deity’s obsession with pacifism has rubbed off on me.”

  “Obsession with... pacifism...?” Angela frowned, surprised by the words.

  Veronika sighed, then finally looked at Angela. “If that doesn’t make sense to you,” she said, “then let’s say it’s in order to help my friends whom you hold captive. You can be my hostage. But since the people around here are, according to you, savages and bar
barians, I wouldn’t expect the best of treatment from them if I were you.” She sounded almost sad.

  Epilogue: The Changing God

  By the time the cleanup from the battle was over, the sun was deep into twilight.

  There was an almost miraculously small number of casualties on the Friedland side, but by the time they had brought in all the missionaries who had been left wounded on the battlefield, and broken down the statues of the guardian saint and left them by the roadside, more than half a day had passed.

  Afterward, Yukinari appointed a minimal number of guards to keep watch around the town, and then he and the others gathered in the Schillings mansion. In the reception room, they discussed the battle and considered what to do next.

  “First of all, everyone, thank you for your help.” Fiona looked around the room. “As a representative of this town, I want to offer my deepest gratitude for how you fought.”

  Besides Fiona, Yukinari, Dasa, Berta, Ulrike, Veronika, and even Arlen were in the reception room. Each of them was sinking into the room’s sofas, awash in the fatigue of surviving a battle. Fiona had personally brought them all something to drink and offered them words of appreciation.

  The imprint of an open-handed slap was still visible on Arlen’s left cheek; this was provided by Fiona. Although he had ultimately turned out to be Friedland’s ally, breaking out of jail in contravention of the town’s decision was not something to be praised. The slap was the price he paid for his disobedience, but it was in its own way also a sign of Fiona’s goodwill.

  “I feel like we got through by the skin of our teeth,” Yukinari said. All of the wounded, including the townspeople and the captured Angela, were being tended to by the doctor. Again, by some miracle, there were no deaths on the Friedland side, but no one believed it would go as easily the next time.

  This time, the missionaries’ intention had been to attempt conversion again in a town where it had failed the first time. In other words, regardless of what they might do to the erdgod, Yukinari, or the mercenary they’d been pursuing, Veronika, they hadn’t come intending to kill the villagers. That was their miscalculation. Now, however, with missionaries wounded and even dead at the hands of the Friedlanders, any further war against the city could be expected to be total.

  “I think we can expect another attack by the True Church of Harris,” Veronika said dispiritedly. “It’s probably safe to assume the knights who ran away will report that this town has resisted conversion.”

  Obviously, not every town and village in the world had yet been converted by the True Church of Harris. The further you went into the frontier, the more the authority of the Church waned. It was perfectly natural.

  Yet Veronika had never, she said, heard tell of a town the Church had tried and failed to convert. As a mercenary, she had traveled all over the map, and she was probably right. Which meant that the True Church of Harris was likely to come against Friedland with all the terrible force they could muster.

  “Lord Yukinari...” The anxious voice came from Berta. In today’s battle, Yukinari had entrusted the rear of the town to her and Ulrike—and Berta was somewhat worried about the fact that the experience of real battle didn’t seem to have changed her personality at all. Or really, rather than changing, she was worried about being broken. Some people never recover from the shock of killing their first person—Veronika had told her so.

  But it seemed that in Berta’s case, at least, such worry was for nothing. She was still the retiring type. From another perspective, she had done well to fight on despite her personality. Perhaps the fact that she had stopped short of taking the organist’s life had something to do with it. He was badly wounded, certainly, but not mortally.

  “I guess it’s possible we could make a move to attack their base in Aldreil first,” Yukinari said. Even as he spoke, the possibility didn’t quite seem real. He just couldn’t picture them striking Aldreil. He didn’t fight because he wanted to. He had never considered a preemptive attack before.

  “Yuki...” Beside him, Dasa took his hand. It wasn’t that she was worried about the prospect of battle; she was bothered to hear Yukinari speak of attacking of his own volition for the first time. She knew Yukinari well. She was trying to keep him from hurting himself.

  “It’s all right,” he said. He squeezed her hand and smiled at her.

  It was something he had known all along, even though he had chosen to ignore it until this moment. If he had power, then what he wanted or didn’t want was irrelevant. He might not have any ambitions of conquest, but that didn’t mean those around him would leave him alone. Keeping Friedland safe would demand more than just dealing with what was right in front of him. Merely repulsing his enemies each time they attacked would inevitably lead to destruction.

  If all this had concerned only himself alone, that might have been one thing, but now what happened and how he reacted would affect the lives and fate of an entire town. He would have to make sure he looked ahead, kept the initiative.

  Aldreil was part of that. He had no idea how the Missionary Order was running the town, but he did know Veronika’s companions were still captive there. He might need to send someone there to gather intelligence. He might also need to interrogate Angela and the other captured knights.

  Regardless...

  “I can see I was being naïve,” he said, looking around at everyone. “But we can’t go back now. Whatever happens next, there’s a good chance it will involve the people of Friedland. That some of them might die. I’ve never asked for living sacrifices, but this makes things no better than under the previous erdgod. It may make them worse.”

  Fiona raised a hand, saying, “Yukinari, that’s—”

  But Yukinari cut her off. “I know. What I’m saying is, we can’t be shortsighted. If we only think about the wounded right in front of us, the dead, then we might fail to prevent even worse tragedies in the future. So we have to be ready—ready to shed blood today so we don’t have to shed blood tomorrow.” He turned to Arlen. “And Arlen. You really saved our necks this time. Without you, that other statue might have reached the town. I’m sure it was hard to fight other missionary knights, but you still did it. Thank you. Really.”

  Yukinari bowed his head. Arlen, just for an instant, froze wide-eyed.

  “H-Hmph. So you’ve finally realized how strong I am.” His words didn’t quite seem to fit the occasion. He turned away. Yukinari could tell Arlen was embarrassed, and as all he wanted was to give credit where credit was due, he didn’t press the point.

  “Berta, thank you, too. I really put you through the wringer...”

  “N-No, my Lord!” She shook her head hurriedly. Feeling the room’s collective gaze on her, she shrunk into herself—but slowly, almost reluctantly, a shy smile spread across her face. “Not... Not at all. I... I was finally able to be of use to you, Lord Yukinari. It was scary, but... I’m glad I did it. Happy.” Her head got lower and her voice got smaller as she spoke.

  “Berta,” Veronika said. That was all, but it seemed to spark some realization in the girl, who suddenly blinked a couple of times, then grabbed the hem of her dress with both hands in what seemed to be a gesture of resolve.

  “For you, Lord Yukinari, I’ll push myself. For you, I can do anything.”

  “Uh—r-right, thank you,” Yukinari nodded, overawed by an expression he had never seen from Berta before. It left him a bit jumpy, as though she had confessed that she loved him. Dasa was watching the entire exchange from behind her glasses with a dark look. But never mind that.

  “I’ve decided to fight,” Yukinari said seriously. “I hate to make people like Berta do the things fighting involves, and I don’t want to force Arlen to confront his old comrades. I don’t want Dasa to have to strain herself, and I don’t want to worry Fiona. Honestly, I would have preferred to avoid this if there were any possible way.” Yukinari took a deep breath and looked around. “But it’s time to put aside childish things. That’s why I’m asking—no, begging�
��for your help.”

  “Who’s begging?” Fiona said, looking at the imploring Yukinari with a smirk. “You’re our god. You ought to have a little more confidence telling us what to do.”

  “...Right.”

  Everyone in the room looked at him. Yukinari scratched his cheek and smiled with embarrassment.

  ●

  They received a report from the Missionary Order on the frontier, sent with the utmost urgency. It wasn’t brought by a messenger bird, but by a light-armored knight traveling as quickly as he could on horseback—something important enough for him to risk attack by demigods or xenobeasts along the way to deliver. The head of the Missionary Order, Walt Dickson, immediately sought an audience with the Dominus Doctrinae.

  Walt ordered the exhausted knight to change into more presentable clothing, and then the two headed to the Great Cathedral to see Justin Chambers. There...

  “...Your Holiness?” Walt frowned, stopping in place.

  Justin looked exactly as he always had, and the interior of the Great Cathedral hadn’t changed, either. But there was something else there, something Walt hadn’t seen before.

  “Father?”

  The speaker was a young girl. Fifteen or sixteen years old, perhaps. Short, even a bit of baby fat here and there. And she was standing right next to Justin’s chair.

  She had shoulder-length silver hair and crimson eyes, along with glasses—a vision aid that was catching on in the capital. It all gave her a distinctive appearance.

  “Who are these people?”

  She pointed at Walt, who found himself at a loss. Who was this girl, exactly? Justin Chambers wasn’t supposed to be married. There were rumors that he was involved with some alchemist woman—but even if that had been true, and even if their union had produced a child, he would never have had the audacity to have her attend him in the Church’s central cathedral.