The Combat Baker and Automaton Waitress: Volume 3

by SOW

  Jacob was wandering around town while Sven talked business with the owner of the general store. Since the town was nearby, it wasn’t his first visit. Usually he came with his grandfather to purchase maintenance tools, so he had never walked around alone. He felt more grown up exploring a little by himself, and that felt good.

  “I’ll buy some souvenirs for Mom. And for Grandpa, too.”

  His grandfather had aged terribly and lost his energy, and his mother rarely left the house, under orders from his grandfather. Jacob looked in the shop windows, in the hopes of finding something that would cheer them up. Jacob’s allowance wasn’t much, but he had saved some money by helping at Tockerbrot, as he had today.

  “I’ll get Grandpa some liquor... No, maybe cigarettes. And for Mom...”

  Among the items on the shelves, he spied a small hair accessory. Attached to the ornament were deep blue glass balls fashioned to look like grapes. It was cheap, but the decoration on it was well made as if it were expensive.

  “This would look good on Mom.”

  Charlotte, Jacob’s mother, was pretty, even to people outside the family. She was still young. She might occasionally dress up, but she never wore makeup or fashionable clothes, in part out of obedience to her father, but also because she didn’t want to stand out.

  “It’s ridiculous... That stuff happened before I was born...”

  Jacob was ordinarily cheerful, but now he was squeezing his eyes shut and looked distraught.

  “What’s wrong?”

  A woman spoke to him from behind.

  “Hm?”

  Jacob turned around and saw a girl who looked older than Milly but younger than Marlene.

  “Nothing... Ha ha ha... Did I look so dark that I made you worry?”

  Jacob immediately put on his usual perky face, but the girl’s manner didn’t change. Her face looked expressionless at first, like a doll’s, but there was a faint darkness about her. Jacob realized that it was her worry for him. He pointed to the hairpiece.

  “Um... I was thinking about getting this as a present for my mother. But she never wears things like this, so there’s probably no point.”

  Jacob wondered why he was telling this to someone he didn’t know. But he found himself talking openly to her.

  “That’s true. In general, women dislike receiving something they don’t care about.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Things like opera tickets, coupons for expensive restaurants, costly jewelry, flower bouquets and stuffed animals are examples I’m aware of that make women wear a look of disapproval rather than a smile.”

  “M-Maybe that’s just a problem they have with the men?”

  Jacob was amazed to hear the girl recite her list of examples in such a matter-of-fact way.

  “You may be right, but...”

  “But?”

  “Those examples only apply when the gift is from someone she isn’t interested in. If she likes the man, she would be happy to receive even a rock.”

  Jacob caught a glimpse of something in the girl’s stony demeanor.

  “Women are happy merely to know that a man cares enough to give her anything.”

  The girl spoke as if she were talking about herself.

  “Do you really think so? You sure are convincing. Do you work here? Huh...?”

  Jacob turned around, but the girl was gone. While he was looking down and thinking, she had disappeared.

  “Aw, man...”

  She had vanished so suddenly, without Jacob even noticing, that he was confused and felt as if she had been an illusion.

  “Oh well...”

  Even if it came from an illusion, the advice made sense. He looked in the shop window again and decided to buy the accessory.

  “Agh! There was one more zero in the price!”

  Reality was cruel.

  A few minutes later, Jacob bought a modestly priced handkerchief. Even so, it took almost all his pocket money.

  “Urgh... If only I had more money...”

  Jacob sighed at how little he could do. He wished he could grow up faster. Then he would be capable of more. He would be able to relieve the burdens from the people he cared about. The frustration almost made this bright boy turn dark again.

  “No, no, no...”

  He shook his head a few times as if dispelling gloomy thoughts and, thinking that Sven must have finished her business, headed back toward the general store. He tripped on something as he was taking a shortcut down a small path between buildings.

  “Wh-What’s this?”

  It was a leather bag such as money collectors often carried.

  “Hmm... This is a nice bag. Instead of throwing it away, the owner could have sold it and—”

  He realized something, shut his mouth, and thought, “Uh-oh!”

  What if it was lost, not thrown away? Or what if it wasn’t just lost, but stolen? And what if someone had stolen it, taken the money, and thrown it here?

  I could get in trouble if I keep this!

  He rushed to put it back where he found it, but it was too late.

  “Hey, you! What’re you doin’?!”

  A tough-looking man in a cheap black suit, black hat and black sunglasses was shouting as he approached.

  “Yo, Bro! I found it! This brat filched it!”

  “Hunh?! Don’t let him get away!”

  The first thug called out to a higher-ranking thug who was also wearing a black suit and hat, as if it were some kind of uniform.

  “You don’t understand! I just found it on the ground!”

  “Shut up and give that back!”

  Jacob protested, but the men wouldn’t listen and grabbed the bag.

  “Hey, hey, hey, hey! The money’s gone! You stole it! Where you hidin’ it?”

  “No, that’s not true!”

  Jacob cried out, but they seized him by the shoulders and wouldn’t let go. He hurriedly looked around for help, but the nearby pedestrians were afraid to get involved, pretended not to see, and scampered away.

  “Ahem!”

  Another voice joined in. It had come from the back seat of a car parked on the street. It wasn’t a loud voice, but it was much deeper than the shouts of the two thugs.

  “Sorry. We found it, but the money’s already been stolen.”

  The hoodlums looked comically scared as they turned toward the source of the voice.

  That car... It must belong to a Wiltian...

  Jacob’s family didn’t run a repair shop for nothing. He could immediately tell that the car was an expensive Wiltian brand. Jacob recognized the car as one of the world’s top-class luxury automobiles. Few other cars could compare, especially when it came to durability. If a cheap car were to crash into it, only this well-built car would remain undamaged. The body was sturdy and the windows were made of bulletproof glass. This was the kind of vehicle favored by high-ranking military officers and mafia bosses who feared for their lives.

  “Bring that brat here.”

  The owner of the voice had opened the back window and shouted. The men dragged Jacob over to him.

  “Where are the stock certificates and paperwork?”

  “He doesn’t have them.”

  “Indeed. I imagine a kid wouldn’t know how to exchange those for cash.”

  The man continued talking one-sidedly. He was in his fifties... perhaps even in his sixties, but he was a mature man in his prime. Despite many gray hairs, his eyes possessed a keen light, and he looked neither old nor weak.

  “Hey, boy. I’ll forget about the money you already spent, but give me the rest. Then I won’t turn you in to the police.”

  His tone was authoritative and even haughty. Jacob sensed that, whoever he was, he must occupy a high position. He was forceful in a manner of those who excel at ruling others.

  “Like I said, I didn’t steal it!”

  Jacob insisted on his innocence. The man looked angry now.

  “I see. Then there’s no choice. I’ll take y
ou to the police. But that won’t be the end of it. I’ll also go to your house and take the amount you stole as compensation from your parents.”

  He said this coldly.

  “What?!”

  Jacob cried out in shock. His typically calm and cheerful manner disappeared. He was still only 10 years old and the adult’s gruff tone silenced him.

  “You dress well enough, so I doubt you need to steal money for food. Just return the money now and— Hm?”

  The man stopped. His intimidating expression was gone.

  “Tell me, boy... Why do you have those?”

  The man’s voice was shaking. He seemed upset and frightened, as if he had seen a ghost or a monster.

  “Mr. Shylock, is somethin’ wrong?”

  Even the thugs who worked for him thought his tone sounded strange and out of character. The man called Shylock was staring at the goggles Jacob wore around his neck.

  “Are those... yours?”

  “Yes... And I didn’t steal them!”

  Jacob shouted, refusing to budge on this point.

  “No... That can’t be... Then you’re...”

  The man stepped out of the car to stand in front of Jacob. With a trembling hand, he reached for Jacob and the goggles hanging from his neck. The man was so spooky that Jacob was afraid he was going to strangle him to death.

  “Ungh...”

  Jacob wanted to escape but he couldn’t shake free of the tough man who was holding his shoulders.

  “Oh my! Pardon me, if you’d be so kind!!!”

  Suddenly, Sven appeared.

  “Hwah?!”

  She jumped in with mighty force, knocking away the man holding Jacob with one kick.

  “What have you done to my partner?! Jacob, are you alright?”

  “S-Sven!”

  At the sight of his savior, tears of relief sprang to Jacob’s eyes.

  “Wench! Who are you?!”

  The older thug produced a folding knife from his pocket.

  “Stop!”

  Shylock raised his voice. At the same moment, Sven twisted the ruffian’s arm and threw him to the ground.

  “Agh!”

  She had moved so smoothly that he didn’t know what hit him.

  “If you pull out a knife, you’ve agreed not to complain if someone stabs or kills you!”

  Sven was shouting as she waved the knife in front of the thug’s face, where she had pressed him into the ground.

  “Aagh!”

  The man screamed, which confirmed that he was no longer in the mood for a fight, so she stood up quickly with Jacob in one arm.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Huh? Y-Yeah!”

  A moment later, they had run off. Sven didn’t know what kind of trouble Jacob was in. But he was Lud’s friend. Jacob’s life needed protection and he took priority second only to Lud. The exact circumstances didn’t matter. Sven had to get him as far from danger as quickly and as effectively as possible. Furthermore, she knew Jacob. He was mature and intelligent beyond his years and always tried to smile, even in hard times. But he now had tears in his eyes. And that’s why she felt the need to rescue him regardless of right or wrong.

  “Who was she?!”

  The thugs mumbled in shock, staring in the direction where Sven and Jacob had gone.

  “How can this be... How can this be?!”

  For Shylock, the mysterious woman with superhuman strength was of no interest—only the boy with the goggles. Without so much as a glance at his minions on the ground, he pondered the brochure that had dropped from Sven’s pocket.

  “A bakery, eh? Tockerbrot... In Organbaelz...”

  Chapter 3: Signaling the Start of War

  Wiltia’s Traad army base administered the belt of land, which included Organbaelz, in the Pelfe region of the Principality of Wiltia. The commander of this base, Colonel Bardenbelger, was a military man who had joined the Great War early, and rose from regular soldier to base commander.

  Bardenbelger’s subordinates put strong faith in him. He took great pride as a soldier, and placed the highest priority on maintaining harmony with the local civilians. He allowed soldiers to attend village festivals and he interacted with civilians in a positive manner. He had an engaging personality, and was philanthropic, so he donated from his private funds to Marlene’s church in Organbaelz. However, there was a woman who caused Bardenbelger’s face to turn beet red and burn with an anger that he rarely showed, even during wartime.

  “You show up without warning and tell me to give top priority to routing materials and personnel to a military facility?!”

  Bardenbelger used to be an artillery soldier. His experience living next to bellowing cannons was all too real. His angry shouts rattled his office windows.

  “As I said, that’s the order.”

  As if his shouts did not reach her, Hildegard von Hessen responded teasingly, her face openly mocking, as she brandished the order, pages flapping.

  “You! Is that any attitude to take toward a superior officer?!”

  Hildegard’s rank was first lieutenant, while Bardenbelger was a full colonel. Her attitude was so rude that Bardenbelger, who usually wasn’t very strict, couldn’t overlook her insubordination.

  “Look, Colonel. We’re from the Schutzstaffel. We belong to a different command system. There’s no reason for me to follow your orders.”

  Hildegard belonged to the Schutzstaffel. The only people to stand above the Schutzstaffel were Commander-in-Chief Genitz and the monarch. If Bardenbelger disagreed, he would have to secure documents signed by the highest commander of the regular military, Marshal Elvin, and send a formal request. Then, if he was lucky, he might receive a vague commitment to “give the matter consideration.”

  “Why you...!”

  Hildegard continued speaking to Bardenbelger, who ground his teeth in frustration.

  “This order bears the royal seal. You understand, don’t you? Refusing means disobeying the royal family, the monarch, and the Principality of Wiltia. Do you intend to stage an insurgency? From this tiny base?”

  Hildegard was 15 years old. Bardenbelger, a veteran soldier, could not restrain his anger at being mocked by this girl, barely one-third his age.

  “Urgh... Do as you like!”

  The seal on the document she held was real. He had sworn his loyalty to the nation and the royal family when he became a soldier, so he could not disobey.

  “Indeed, I will. And I will start by occupying the best room on this base, which doesn’t mean much in this country castle.”

  As Hildegard left the room, her parting words were guaranteed to rub him the wrong way. As soon as the door closed, she heard him taking out his anger by punching one piece of furniture after another.

  “Heh... That’s why I don’t like soldiers who are commoners. He’s an unrefined country bumpkin. No wonder he serves under Elvin!”

  As she had promised, Hildegard now occupied the VIP room. She sat on the sofa and continued scoffing at Bardenbelger.

  “Lieutenant? Um...”

  Two of her subordinates were with her. The one who spoke was of average height and weight and wore an iron mask that covered his entire head.

  “It would be better not to get ugly with the regular military. We often need its cooperation.”

  The man chided Hildegard with a voice that sounded as if he had something stuck in his back teeth.

  “Corporal, kneel with your hands on the floor.”

  Hildegard spoke curtly, pointing at the floor, as if commanding a dog.

  “Huh?! Yes, Ma’am!”

  An order from a superior officer is absolute. The corporal knelt on all fours, placing his hands on the floor.

  “Umf!”

  “Agh?!”

  Hildegard kicked him with all her strength. In the face.

  “Corporal... you’re exasperating. I can’t punch you because of your mask, but in order to kick you, I have to make you kneel!”

  “Uarnnngh!”


  The powerful kick, even protected by his mask, caused the corporal to writhe in pain.

  I never asked your opinion...

  So don’t get mouthy with a superior officer.

  Her words went unspoken, but the sentiment was expressed clearly as she kicked him the way she would discipline a dog.

  “People from the lower classes do indeed cause trouble. Know your status and position.”

  Hildegard von Hessen was from the house of Hessen, an old and important family in Wiltia, much like Sophia’s family, the Rundstadts. The way Hildegard saw it, for a common soldier—and not even a non-commissioned officer—to criticize her actions was a disrespectful defiance of class distinctions.

  “Corporal, you have served in the military for years, but if I didn’t have orders from the revered lord lieutenant general to permit you to accompany me, I would punish your impertinence.”

  Hildegard drew the firearm at her waist—a Walther PKK—and pushed the muzzle against the mask covering the corporal’s head. Her finger was on the trigger.

  “Ulp...”

  The corporal screamed when he heard metal scraping against metal.

  “You’re lucky... so be pleased. What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to thank me? I’m not killing you.”

  “Th-Thank you!”

  “Hmf... You’re a pitiful man.”

  Hildegard lowered her gun as if she no longer had any business with him and looked at Vanessa, the other subordinate.

  “Third Lieutenant, are you sure about that information? You won’t get off easy if it turns out to be mistaken after I’ve come all the way to this godforsaken backwater.”

  “It came from the Intelligence Bureau so I’m quite certain it’s accurate. Shylock will spend this week visiting every city in Pelfe and then head for Ponapalas, the old capital.”

  Hildegard’s face showed irritation as she listened to Vanessa’s reply.

  “Why is he going to so much trouble?”

  “He is performing an inspection tour in preparation for expanding his business to Pelfe.”

  “Hah!”

  Hildegard barked contemptuously, with a scoffing expression on her face.

  “Of course, backward people behave backwardly. How inefficient to survey the area himself!”