War (1)
Rhea, Ceria, Claudia.
It still weighed on me that I hadn't even been able to say goodbye to any of them.
Regret was always an emotion that came after the fact.
Leaving Sister Flora behind to go to the slums. Stealing. Doing bad things. Joining the guild. Killing Loren.
Even the things I thought I'd done right, I sometimes regretted. It was the same now. Regret bred doubt.
If I had died in Sister Flora's place, would everyone really have been happy?
"...Heh."
A hollow laugh seemed to escape me for no reason. A few tears rolled down as well. I'd tried not to cry in front of them—everyone had always relied on me. I'd promised them over and over that I would protect them all.
But now, the tears came far too easily. The promise that had been my reason for living had become nothing at all. There was no reason left to hold back my tears, no reason to overcome the sorrow.
I hoped the parting would be shorter than the time we'd spent together. In my place, the Rueshatia family would look after them and protect them, and then they would achieve their dreams and live happily.
If it was a promise I couldn't keep, I shouldn't have made it in the first place. Another hollow laugh escaped me.
Still, it was a relief. Truly. A relief.
I couldn't even properly get them into the academy, ending up sending Rhea to the slums. Making those kind children—Ceria and Claudia—say such things. The Rueshatia family would be better than me.
I closed my eyes and imagined Rhea enrolled in the academy, becoming a magician. Imagined Ceria in a sister's habit, smiling warmly. Pictured Claudia as a gentle mother, building a happy family. I wouldn't be there, but that was fine. I took it as comfort, not regret.
Maybe. Just maybe, if I survived the war, I might get to see them all happy.
I wiped away my tears. I polished the dagger Laika had given me and the sword from Cronian. I'd gone on monster subjugations dozens of times—this wouldn't be much different. Sitting in the carriage, eyes open, I gazed outside, telling myself I was simply heading out on another long subjugation.
Clunk—, rattle—.
The carriage shook. The road leading to the battlefield seemed unusually thin and narrow.
It almost felt real. That I was heading toward the place where I would die.
And yet, it was a strange thing. After leaving the church, I'd spent a full month in the carriage, then disembarked to train not with a dagger but with Cronian's sword. Sometimes beaten by mercenaries stronger than me, rolling on the ground, stitching up gashes while vomiting—that was the battlefield I would live on. And yet that battlefield was strangely quiet and peaceful.
A river flowed. Deer could be seen. Birds chirped from the branches of the dense forest. The most brutal of spaces wore, paradoxically, the most peaceful face.
That didn't mean laughter bloomed or that people struck up conversations with one another. After all, we would eventually have to go to the front lines, fight, kill someone, and struggle to survive. The only time we smiled even a little was when the Baron of Rueshatia—no, when Köln set aside his authority and joked around with the troops.
"...I'm no different from the rest of you—I came here to die too, men."
Köln often made that joke about having come to die himself. He probably did it because he knew what we feared most. The territory folk conscripted from the Rueshatia Territory, people of a family that had originally been a mercenary house, broke into hearty laughter at those words.
"We're never going to the front lines. We'll take the punishment, but isn't that better than dying?"
Köln was a capable commander. As if proving he had been the head of a mercenary family, he seemed to have a knack for getting close to people. He approached not only those who had originally lived as Rueshatia mercenaries or knights, but also those who had volunteered for conscription for their families' sake.
"...I don't want to die either, damn it. I want to go back to the Rueshatia Territory and hold Lediche. You know what? That little kid over there killed Loren. They say when one good thing happens, one bad thing follows—that's just how life works, but still..."
Saying he wanted to go back too, that he wanted to spend time with his daughter. And in the same breath, he tried to lighten the mood by mentioning that Loren, who had pressured the Rueshatia Territory, had been killed by me. Because of efforts like these, conversation began to flow even among the frozen conscripts.
At first: Our commander's gone crazy. No, we're all about to die—and he wants to joke around? From those grumbling conversations—
Heh—, honestly. It is kind of funny. He's trying, isn't he? Trying to get close to us, not just the family mercenaries and knights. And really, it wasn't the family head's fault that the Rueshatia Territory had been on the brink.
And then, talk turned to the head of the Rueshatia family, Köln—
What's your name? You look so young—did you really kill Loren and end up on the battlefield?
Eventually, it became talk about each other.
"I'm Rubiru. And you?"
At the voice, I turned my head and saw a girl with brown hair. A question rose in me. A girl with such a young face was standing there, so out of place on a blood-soaked battlefield.
The question that had sprung up vanished the moment I saw the armband around Rubiru's right arm. Only after looking at the cross drawn on that armband did I understand.
She had come along as a combat medic. At that young age.
"...Riel."
"Riel? That's a totally girly name."
Even after figuring that out, I didn't particularly want to talk any further. I'd lived bleakly for a month, and even if I was just starting to feel a bit like I had comrades—even in the moments when I was far away, I'd been thinking about Rhea, Ceria, and Claudia.
"Can I sit next to you?"
I shook my head, but Rubiru didn't head elsewhere.
"What are you thinking about?"
Rubiru was the only one around my age. Conversely, that meant I was the only one around Rubiru's age. She undid her necklace and, for some reason, sat down next to me as if I were a close friend. She seemed to want to talk about something with me.
"I'm thinking about my big brother."
Click—.
Was it more of a pendant than a necklace? When she pressed a button, the necklace opened. Inside was a carefully folded piece of paper. Rubiru carefully unfolded it and showed it to me.
It looked as if a person had been placed inside a picture. It seemed to be a photograph. In the black-and-white photograph, a man with a face similar to a younger Rubiru was smiling. He resembled Rubiru so much that he was clearly family.
"...What do you think? That's my big brother. He's my only family."
Family. Family—. Family.
The word "family," churning through my mind, made it impossible to treat Rubiru the way I had before. That warm, cozy word held great meaning for me in itself. Because to me, Rhea, Ceria, and Claudia were what the man in the photograph was to Rubiru.
I simply felt a sense of kinship. I wondered if she had come to the battlefield for reasons similar to mine.
"...He's handsome."
"Right?"
"...If you have family, why did you come to a battlefield like this? Just ask them to send you back."
"...What about you, then? Don't you have family?"
Rubiru asked me with pure, untainted innocence, but I flared up without meaning to. It was almost laughable how I'd just been feeling a sense of kinship.
"Are you picking a fight?"
"Ah, no—that's not what I meant...."
"...Then get lost. I'm already messed up enough—don't go poking around for no reason."
"...I can't go."
"Why can't you?"
"...My big brother died on the battlefield."
At the word "died," I froze for a moment. Died on the battlefield. So did you come for revenge? Or did you come to die?
The questions I wanted to ask rose to the tip of my tongue, but Rubiru's eyes were so clear that I couldn't bring myself to voice them. She calmly traced a finger over the man in the photograph. Then she smiled and lightly bumped my shoulder.
"...I'm fine—why are you making that face?"
The corners of her mouth trembled as she said she was fine, and her eyes looked as if they might crumble at any moment. At the words that her family had died, the children I'd left behind suddenly overlapped with her. If I died, would they all make that kind of face? Something stabbed at a corner of my chest.
Rubiru almost seemed like the three childhood friends I'd left behind. I wondered if, if I died on the battlefield, those three would also step onto the front lines like Rubiru.
I hoped they wouldn't. I just hoped they would live happily.
"...Teach me too."
My momentary worries scattered on the question that suddenly reached my ears.
"...You're strong. You even killed that bastard Loren.... You said you used a dagger, but even with a sword you're as strong as most mercenaries or knights. I'm just a stupid cripple.... My big brother died fighting bravely, but all I can think about is running away. I don't want that. I can't hold a sword. There's no one else I can learn from but you."
"Just run away. That would solve it. You don't need to learn."
When I said that, Rubiru shook her head, on the verge of tears.
"I told you I don't want to run away."
She spoke that firm single sentence and looked at me with eyes that were still clear yet sharp. Whether it was for revenge for her dead brother, or because she wanted to prove something in the place where he had died—she seemed to have her own reasons for coming to the battlefield.
"...I have to stay here. For my brother's sake, at least."
But I was simply uncomfortable. Rubiru was a girl. She was around the same age as Rhea, Ceria, and Claudia. The way she looked at me—so out of place on a battlefield—made me think of everyone I'd left behind. It looked like a glimpse of the future that would unfold if I died.
"...Stop bothering me and get lost."
I spoke roughly on purpose and tried to leave, but Rubiru was persistent. Being a medic was just an excuse. She'd attended the academy a little. If she stayed with me I could survive too—no, if the medic lives longer, your chances of returning to your family go up too! She trailed after me asking how to grip a sword, how to put force into it, and when I was gasping for breath during training she'd bring me a water skin and smile.
Even after several days, it was the same. She kept following me around.
"I have no intention of teaching you."
"Yeah, that's fine. I just want to be with you. Then maybe you'll change your mind!"
"...Do whatever you want, then."
I deliberately ignored her, and sometimes roughly shoved her away—but I couldn't deny that my gaze sometimes drifted toward Rubiru.
In the way she approached injured soldiers during training, clumsily wrapping bandages and whispering that it was okay, I saw Claudia. In the way she sat before the campfire at night, gazing at her pendant and praying, I saw Ceria. And in the way she looked at me, forcing a smile and tilting her head, I saw Rhea.
Because I saw everyone in Rubiru. Because everyone was visible in her. Because I missed them so much that I was searching for them in a completely different person. And then, when I missed them so terribly that I secretly unfolded a drawing—
"...Are those your family?"
Rubiru noticed with uncanny timing, walked over, sat beside me, and spoke. Then she looked me over and, as if forgetting we were on a battlefield, grinned bashfully and applied medicine.
"...If your wounds get worse, your family will be sad, you know?"
That offhand remark of hers stabbed straight into my heart. Rhea, Ceria, Claudia. The faces that had teared up every time I got hurt rose in my mind, and I looked away without meaning to. Those three would be attending the academy by now—that sorrowful look wouldn't suit them.
"It doesn't matter. I've already left them all behind."
"Then I don't like it because I'll be sad. Give me your hand, quick."
Rubiru stared straight into my eyes and grinned. That smile overlapped with the smiles of the children I'd left behind, and my chest ached.
I was still irritated and uncomfortable, but on the other hand, that persistence wasn't entirely unwelcome. Maybe because it reminded me of the times when Rhea, Ceria, and Claudia had chattered at my side.
"...Are you going to say no again today? Then I'll come bother you tomorrow too. I mean it."
Rubiru, who had only pestered me when we were alone, now appeared even when I was with other comrades and made her requests. A little more time passed, and she showed up even during training under the squad leaders—a little more still, and even in the gatherings where Köln was building camaraderie with the conscripts, she whined for me to teach her swordsmanship.
One month spent leaving the church and heading to the front. One month spent training after arrival. From around the three-month mark, everyone started teasing us.
"...They say even in wartime people have children—looks like the old folks' proverb wasn't wrong."
Köln stroked his beard as he looked at us, and our comrades shouted mischievously that we suited each other, that we should run away and get married. Sandni, Freiden, Rusto, Kleimer—the squad leaders of each unit were the worst of them, if anyone was.
"Boooo! You bastard!"
"Just a-accept Rubiru already!"
They were all men who liked Rubiru, after all. Soaked in jealousy, they shouted even louder.
But they weren't really teasing us because they thought we'd become lovers. With death right in front of their noses, it was closer to a desperate struggle to feel "life" even for a moment by watching a fresh young man and woman.
As time passed, the war entered our field of vision. When I, who had started as a private, became a team leader through sparring and then stood out through experience from monster subjugations to become a squad leader—from around the two-month mark, things began to be heard and seen little by little. News that the front line ahead of us was retreating, and the sight of soldiers with severed arms and legs withdrawing to be discharged.
With war ahead of them, to forget the fear even for a moment—they teased us to force themselves to laugh. Knowing that, neither I nor Rubiru bothered to get angry and shout that it wasn't true.
But even with Köln's efforts, even if we forgot our fear for a while, sobbing could be heard every night. Because our role was to face hundreds with mere dozens, and for all of us to die. Because we knew our role wasn't victory—we were nothing more than "meat shields" buying time until the main force arrived.
The soldiers cried every night, woke up to train, teased us, talked with Köln. Went out on reconnaissance, and sometimes met enemy soldiers and fought. Dozens. No—the fifty-five soldiers became fifty from around the four-month mark.
Soldiers I'd gotten to know because Rubiru had dragged me around following her everywhere—the graves of Lemoine, Tolian, Rufus, Dalon, and Hollenin appeared behind the encampment. Though calling them graves was a stretch—we couldn't recover the bodies, so all we could do was drive stakes into the ground.
It gradually became real. The realization that I might someday be buried near that place. The thought that everyone might die.
...
Another month passed, and it was the day marking five months since I'd left the church. On a day when morning fog lay thick as usual, Sandni and Freiden returned from reconnaissance.
Rubiru screamed.
"Kya—kyaaaaaah—!"
They were still mounted on their horses, but everything above the neck was empty. They were cradling their own severed heads in their arms as if they were precious treasures. In the moment everyone froze at the grotesque sight, the horses that had run back to the encampment on instinct collapsed with screams. From behind, arrows flying through the fog pierced the horses' heads with perfect accuracy.
Whiiish—!
"Fuck, blow the horn—! Enemy attack—!"
A single flaming arrow that flew in announced the beginning of the war.