With the escort of the maidmer princesses and the manmer lords, we arrive at the Seisakoku port before sunset.

I’ve only ever seen Dejima[1] in textbooks and periodic dramas, so I can’t compare, but at least this is different from what I imagined, and the atmosphere is pretty peaceful too.

I can’t hear the yells of traders here, neither do I see kids scampering across the roads. The camel-colored two-story brick buildings line the streets neatly and in order, but only a few of the shops are open for business, so there’s not even a hint of the hustle and bustle of a port.

And yet, there are definitely a lot of people here, the pa.s.sers-by on the roads being mostly healthy and friendly-looking adults. They smile at the foreigners going to customs, and a few of them say a few short words, probably greetings.

And they’re just like the s.h.i.+nzoku we’ve seen before, with blonde hair so pale it’s almost white, and their eyes are a pretty golden color too. People with dark hair and eyes are rare, so everyone looks surprised at our appearances at first, but there is no contempt in their reactions.

“What a relief, I was worried what to do if they treated us like rare animals!”

“Who knows, maybe the people of Dejima are used to contact with foreigners? And they should have received a certain degree of education. The deeper into the continent you go, the simpler the people.”

Josak rolls up the sleeves on his ap.r.o.n, turning his head to look at me, who was sighing in relief,

“We can’t judge a country by its main gates alone. At the very least we have to see the porch and back door.”

“I see. You’re so smart! Josak.”

“Hehe, you really know how to win my heart, this is the first time in my life someone called me smart! But too bad, it has nothing to do with my wits, it’s actually the acc.u.mulation of experience. Oh, dear—actually it’s because I’ve been to a lot of places, though I was spending my boss’ money the whole time.”

“So you’re studying on scholars.h.i.+p? That makes you just like Mori Ogai[2]~”

As a result he gives me an expression that says, that’s why I can’t just sit by and do nothing—Looks like I said something dumb again.

The customs officers who greet us ask us this and that as they help the tourists change clothes or wash up. These workers look around the same age as those young girls working in j.a.pan, maybe it’s because their outfits and hairstyles are all uniform, every girl looks the same.

I observe closely for a while, and realize that there are duos who look the same everywhere.

That’s when I finally remember, that the rates of s.h.i.+nzoku having twins are really high. There are identical twins like Jason and Freddy who looks so similar it’s unbelievable; and though Zeta and Zuusha are sister and brother, they still look very similar. Although I haven’t seen the siblings of that girl and that helms expert, it’s highly likely that they were mingled with the group in that boat.

Speaking of which, I wonder where Jason and Freddy are forced to work at? I look around, trying to see if they’re among this group of girls. Not far away from me, though, Saralegui is causing a ruckus. Although he’s young, but he’s still the king of a country, for him to receive the same examinations at the customs like a normal visitor, must make him feel really insulted, huh? For all I know, being as composed and low-confidence like me is the problem here. Lord Weller is comforting him with a pained expression— it sure is tough to take care of others. I can’t help but smile bitterly, and only then do I realize that my mouth is so dry my tongue is almost glued to the ceiling.

It’s not just my throat that’s dry.

“Ah—I’m so hungry my vision is blurring”

“That’s bad, are you dizzy and nauseous? Should Gurrier apologize to everyone out there who’d eating right now?”

“Although I’m nauseous, I can only puke out stomach acids. It should be okay! As long as we don’t suddenly have to eat a full course French meal.”

A pair of sisters come up to me with brand new white cloths, the girl on the eight smiling as she hands me the warm towels.

“Comment allez-vous? (French for How are you?)”

S-she’s speaking French! Just when I’m at a loss about how to reply, she has already taken the steamed towel and is wiping my face—completely unafraid of my position.

“Azabu-jūban[3]—Mn.”

“That’s the Toei Ōedo Line’s… Mn…”

“Waa tai izzit nah? (What time is it now?)”

That is impossible. As I recall what I saw in my old man’s Conversational English Booklet, I try to say ‘saitsheeing (sightseeing)’, and as a result the girl who was helping me tidy up actually blushed and ran away. Looks like she’s not good at dealing with foreigners and strange accents.

The completely calm and collected spy Josak, on the other hand, easily solves the language problem. All he does is occasionally raise his palm and smile, occasionally make a ‘fine, fine’ movement, signaling for them to leave.

“That’s amazing, Josak understands what they’re saying?”

“How can that be—I’m just making weird gestures as I like! As long as I make such contradicting reactions, I’m sure even they will get a headache and find a translator.”

“Impressive! Then let me make some weird gestures too.”

And then I stick out my tongue, scaring three people to tears. Looks like my techniques still aren’t up to par.

“Really, Young Master, Gurrier is an adult with a young girl’s heart, you know.”

And just as Josak said, the panicked translator immediately rushes over, so from now on the ones handling all our matters, are all bearded middle-aged uncles, while those girls stay as far away from us as possible, treating us as people to pay special attention to.

One of the men has a name card saying, ‘Translator: Ajira”, though the third word is a mirror image of the real word. Behind those heavy lenses, his golden eyeb.a.l.l.s are so big it’s scary. Looks like even s.h.i.+nzoku, seem to get short-sighted. He has a soft beard on his face and chin, looking as though there’s white mold growing there.

Following that man’s lead, we leave Dejima, and prepare to enter Seisakoku borders.

“You, horse?”

“Ah?”

I can’t help but want to ask him who’s the horse here. After a rather long time, we finally understand that he has a habit of abbreviating the verbs when he talks. Turns it he was asking, ‘You want to ride a horse?’ We left transport up to him, but the thing I’m more worried about is, does he understand what kind of a group we are?

At the exit of the port, there are people desperately waving. Normal people wouldn’t simply wave at the prime minister of another country, right? Even though they don’t have relations, Shou s.h.i.+maron is still a large country. Seeing that he doesn’t seem to be respected by the commoners here, Saralegui’s mood doesn’t seem too good.

Basically Seisakoku isn’t exactly what its name suggests, because this isn’t a place where all you see is sand.

There’s greenery between the mountains, and red earth along the roads. ‘In a white desert you can’t see in one glance, after experiencing the cruelest trip on camelback, finally reaching an oasis with one coconut tree…’ I was initially imagining a place a lot like the Sahara Desert, but the result is vastly different.

The temperature here is barely different from the harsh winters of j.a.pan, though, even pulling up my collar can’t block out the cold winds blowing from all directions, and the air is extremely dry, too.

It could be because of the climate here, but there’s very little greenery on the plains. Looking out the coach windows, I can only see very few places that could be called farms. Maybe this country isn’t built on agriculture?

Not only is the scenery as we’re moving vastly difference from my imagination, even the first city that we finally arrive at, has a level of splendor that truly shocks us.

The buildings are all fixed and uniform, with not one house standing out. Because of the time, the shops haven’t opened for business yet, but the windows of each house are brightly lit with lanterns, and steel gates that lead in and out line the smooth road. According to Ajira’s proud explanation (though he still does away with the verbs), even the underground waterway and heating systems here are very complete.

What’s even more surprising to us is, there isn’t a wall surrounding the city.

The city area around Blood Pledge Castle, is surrounded by tall walls, mainly as a defense against thieves at night and enemy armies. But Seisakoku doesn’t have city walls.

“So cool! Looks like the security here is very well maintained.”

“Is that so~”

Josak mutters as he heads towards the place we’re staying for the night. Right now he seems to be more nervous that he was at Dejima.

“Looks like that stretch of ocean should be a natural defense, huh… And also…”

“Josak, what’s the matter? Look at you, stuttering like that. If you think anything’s not right, could you please talk to me about it?”

“Right now it’s still okay. Before the king here meets us, he would probably hope we’re unharmed as well.”

Seems like there’s a double edge to his words. Based on many years as a spy, his sixth sense isn’t something to be underestimated!

There are still three days and three nights to go, until the summit to be held in Seisakoku.

Although our traveling involves rus.h.i.+ng in the day time, we stay in five-star hotels at night, so even the extravagant greenhouse-flower Saralegui can’t complain about it. As for me, ever since the second day after we landed, I haven’t felt tired at all, instead I feel so energized I can’t sleep.

Maybe it’s because my inability to sit still has even been noticed by third parties, so not only Josak, but even Saralegui asks me if I’m unwell at some point.

“I’m guessing it might because I’m too wound up. Rather than call it gastric pains… it’s more like I ate too much and feel tight in my chest.”

“Could it be a cold? Maybe you were too worn out that time when we were drifting on the sea.”

And sometimes I get headaches and horrible chills too, very evidently the pre-symptoms of a cold.

“Yuuri, I think you should ask the translator to help bring you some medicine! Although it’s s.h.i.+nzoku medicine, it shouldn’t be completely ineffective to mazoku.”

“If I ask him to bring me medicine, but instead he gives me a cup of super-bitter tea, that’d be a bother. I’m okay, shees.h.!.+ I’ll just ask him to bring an extra blanket… Sara, sorry, I made you worry.”

Of course it’s not as though I think the medicine here is ineffective, it’s just the moment I hear about taking medicine, I remember Günter’s advice, “Don’t eat the food offered by strangers”. As a principle I still eat the normal three meals, but I will never take any special food no one else has eaten. That’s the most basic of precautions.

And I deduce that this sense of discomfort isn’t a cold, but due to pressure. I’ve been in a series of emergency situations since Shou s.h.i.+maron, and I didn’t have any friends during the voyage. Josak is definitely a comrade I can rely on, and is a trustworthy guard, but that’s different from the sense of safety Wolfram gives me. Because we can’t banter with each other, and comfort each other.

Although the things I’m worried about has lessened a little since we landed, but something else that makes me uneasy immediately appears—that is the stress from the summit that will I’ll have to face soon.

After this I’ll meet the king of an unknown country that I’ve never seen before, and hold a talk with the reputation of two countries on the line. And this isn’t a one-on-one summit either, the Shou s.h.i.+maron king will be present, too. Faced with two kings who have received the proper kingly training, is a normal high school student with no talents like me a worthy opponent?

After all half a year ago I was still a baseball boy like any other you could see on the street. Completely clueless about any diplomatic ways, much less any negotiation techniques. I’d much rather let that brother of mine, who bragged that he would someday be governor of Tokyo, take my place instead.

The strategist that I can rely on, Günter, isn’t with me, and Murata, who can help me best at times like this is nowhere to be seen either. There’s not a single person I can discuss this with beside me.

No wonder I feel the pressure piling on.

“I might get crushed to death by the pressure.”

I mumble in a voice no one else can here, and kick the floor of the coach once. Since this is the eve of the destined match, it’s completely unsurprising that I feel this way. But a benchwarmer like me has almost never experienced any large-scale matches, just the EXP difference itself is huge.

“Yuuri, look! We can see the capital! Ah~ I’m so excited, I wonder what kind of a city has it become? Is the king here okay? Is the previous monarch healthy?”

Saralegui, who doesn’t seem to know what pressure means, says happily as he leans out of the window.

Lord Weller, who has been quiet this whole time, advises in a monotonous voice,

“Your Majesty, it’s best not to overthink things.”

“But I’m really looking forward to it! My heart feels so excited.”

His tone sounds like he’s met the other person before… Speaking of which, he did mention on the voyage that that was his second time crossing that dangerous stretch of sea.

“Sara, you…”

Because of the improvement in the quality of the road, the speed of the carriage starts picking up, too, making me swallow down my suspicions together with the sound of the wheels. Don’t ask, so what if I know more about Saralegui’s past? It’ll just make me feel more regretful that I didn’t learn the necessary knowledge, make me feel smaller.

The capital of Seisakoku, Yels.h.i.+nrad, seems calm and carefree under the sparkling evening rays.

Faced with such huge, majestic buildings, we’re completely shocked by its different style.

So this is the kind of the city they meant by a metropolis, this is the kind of country they meant by a powerful country…

“Impressive…”

The original color should be white or something pale, right? The orderly roads and walls have been dyed crimson by the sunset. The castle is in the heart of the city, just looking at the top of the tower forced me to crane my neck, the height itself leaves me at a loss for words.

There are streets leading into the city and away from the castle in every direction, all the buildings built around that center in a circle. If the Tang Dynasty’s Chang’An looks like a chessboard, then this one…

“How to describe it… It’s like a baumkuchen[4].”

Why am I so unimaginative?

Looking at the city from the center tower, gives me the feeling of a solemn concerto getting louder and louder.

“Some people cry.”

The translator, Ajira, is as simple and concise as ever. He probably means to say that ‘Some people are so touched when they see the castle for the first time, they actually cry’, right? I’m begging you, don’t abbreviate that much!

In contrast to the happy and rowdy atmosphere, Saralegui has become quieter, he’s probably very nervous too.

As for me, my gut and temple starts hurting, and I even feel cold sweat beading on my back and neck. To make sure no one else notices, I secretly wipe my forehead. But the overwhelming pressure makes it hard for me to breathe, and I can no longer tell if it’s gastric pains or something else, so I can’t help but grip my chest tightly with my right hand.

Underneath the borrowed clothes, there’s only my rapidly accelerating heartbeat.

“Yuuri?”

“Hm? Mn, what’s the matter?”

There are four tall and intricately-carved pillars at the castle entrance. When I place my hand on the smooth surface, the coolness immediately moves to my arm through my fingers. The carved stone walls and ground sparkle, the pale green patterns indescribably beautiful.

In the past I’ve seen many mansions and castles, but compared to this palace, the extravagance is on a completely different level, even making me feel as though the Blood Pledge Castle we live in is a coa.r.s.ely-built bunker.

Right then, in front of the people who looked live palace servants with their heads bowed, Saralegui says to me,

“Don’t embarra.s.s yourself in a place like this, ‘kay.”

And then that pretty face blooms into a smile.

The white face, pale-colored gla.s.ses, and slender limbs are all dyed by the orange backlight—making him look like he’s bathed in fresh blood.

It’s not the cold and not the overwhelming pressure, but an unknown reason that makes me sway on my feet, and as a result I miss a step on the not-too-high stairs. But before I can fall, a hand holds me up firmly.

“…Your Majesty.”

It can’t be, it’s completely impossible.

My throat feels like it’s being blocked by something heavy, and the oxygen can’t get through my windpipe.

He is so friendly. He was always like that, and he should always be like that.

Why must I be so suspicious of everything? If I suspect everyone and everything, then won’t there be no end to it? But suspecting him is easier than trusting him.

“Your Majesty.”

“Which ‘Your Majesty’ are you calling?”

I retort instinctively. Because that voice is Lord Weller’s.

“You.”

Conrad stands two steps above me, stopping me from saying any more, continuing what he wants to say. Because of the backlight, I can’t see his light brown eyes—I hate the sunset like h.e.l.l!

“Do you want to go back?”

Josak grabs my arm, and I push up against him forcefully. By now Saralegui has climbed up the stairs, and is looking back at us, left behind.

“If you’re feeling uncomfortable, rest well tonight, and go tomorrow.”

“How can I!”

I ignore their concerns, das.h.i.+ng up the two stone steps. Since I’m already here, how can I back down!

I really can’t imagine what kind of impressive person my opponent is at all, but I still need to see if he’s an enemy or a friend. Besides, I can’t get rid of my doubts towards Saralegui in my heart, either. But he’s only seventeen, if you just look at the number of years we’ve lived, there’s not that much of a difference. Even if the things we learned are different, the times we’ve got to use those things should be the same. Since he can do it, I should be able to do it too.

Come on! Get into the batter’s box. This isn’t the practice field, this is the batter’s box in an official compet.i.tion. I’m going to use everything I have to take you down… Though whether I’ll get a strikeout or not is another matter.

I turn around and look down from the top of the stairs, and the view really is very beautiful. Not only is it arranged perfectly, there isn’t anything that stands out or doesn’t fit, either. The people on the street dress and look almost exactly the same, and there are only two or three changes in color. If it was in this country, even if someone only wore their sports uniform every day, they could still walk the streets proudly.

Just as I move my gaze back towards the castle—

A boy, junior elementary school age, scrambles over past the guard’s attempts at stopping him. His pale grey cloths are short, revealing pale and bloodless arms and knees. The little boy suddenly bends down and uses a stone in his hand to draw a huge hexagon at his feet. Before the few soldiers can stop him, he’s already connected the line.

I’ve seen that shape before, and instinctively I press my left arm beneath my clothes. The scratches underneath my fingers that were almost healed start hurting again. That was the mark left by that s.h.i.+nzoku girl with her short nails before we parted, and it came with the mysterious word, ‘Venera’.

After the boy finishes drawing his hexagon, he starts singing. He sings a song I don’t understand in a slightly off-key voice. But the tune seems familiar to me—it’s a melody I know well.

“I feel as though… I heard it somewhere before.”

“I heard it too.”

“Then it has to be a s.h.i.+n Makoku children’s song…”

“But it’s my first time hearing it.”

The two mazoku exchange their opinions, but the boy, meeting opposition, chooses to continue singing in an even louder voice.

The soldier’s actions are really rough—it’s just a boy doodling around, but three of them are sent to pin him to the ground.

“Hey…!”

“Don’t bully a little kid!”

Saralegui dashes up front even faster than I do, offering his hand to the boy gently, but as soon as he sees the dirty clothes and dusty hair, those beautifully manicured fingertips are immediately retracted.

“What! So it’s just a worthless little brat.”

“Sara?”

“Yuuri, ignore him. That’s the child of slaves.”

“Slaves… What are you saying, Saralegui! Such a small child is being handled violently, and you’re asking me to ignore him!? Don’t you see the army brutality!? Stop, let go of that kid…”

Just as I’m getting ready to push aside one of the guards, there’s a scream from behind the gathering crowd. Rather than fear, it’s more of a yell of disgust. The angry curses never stop, and add that to the horrible stench wafting around, the reason is quickly revealed.

As the crowd splits to the left and right, a trolley with a wooden bucket on top immediately tumbles down. The lid loosens off, and brown liquid spills onto the road. The intense odor makes it clear that that is ‘that thing’—though I don’t know if I should call it liquid organic fertilizer, or fertilizer distilled from feces.

Either way, everyone can’t use their noses to breathe at all.

The women’s screams urge the guards to rush over, and according to my own translation, they’re yelling, “Why is there a compost cart here!?” Next to the overturned cart there’s a pet.i.te person squatting there, head covered by a dirty hood. An old lady, looking extremely weak, raises her head as she’s scolded by the citizens and soldiers. The hair that’s plastered onto her forehead is too golden and bright, so it’s turned white. And it could be because of her too-advanced age, but her forehead and throat have obvious wrinkles.

She puts both palms on the cold floor, even peeking our way. Rather than saying she’s purposely looking at us, it’d be better to say her gaze just happens to move this way.

But in those zero point something seconds, Conrad, standing beside me, holds his breath in surprise, I know he’s holding back a name that almost escapes his lips, and he even grips his fist tightly. In a voice of surprise that the people can’t hear, he says,

“How is that possible…”

“Conrad?”

Just as I’m about to ask, “You guys know each other?”, I hear Saralegui interrupt my question in a tone of deep contempt,

“Stinky old hag!”

By the time we realized it, the boy had already made an escape when the old lady and her impressive stench distracted the guards. All that’s left is the symbol on the ground.

The hexagon like the one on my arm, a simple diamond sign.