Inevitability Disguised as Chance
Nothing happened. That was exactly what he intended to make true by going.
The moment she heard those words, the princess felt her heart hammer hard in her chest all over again.
Was it fear that made it race like this? Or anticipation?
The dangerous presence rolling off the man in front of her pulled every muscle in her body taut of its own accord. Instinct screamed at her to get out of the way—or else get ready to fight.
And yet, in another corner of herself, a very different instinct kept licking its lips.
A man like this. This strong. And this interesting.
She wanted to claim him. And if she couldn't, she wanted to be claimed.
Ah… should I just jump him?
If she pinned him and climbed on top, fine. If he flipped her and climbed on top instead, that was fine too. Whatever it was, however it happened—she was dying to leave a mark.
"Your Highness."
Just as her mind was starting to blur, Kyle, seated across from her, quietly called her name. His look said he had a fairly good idea what she was thinking. The clear message—don't do anything stupid and make us both flush—was enough for Yulika to finally shake the dangerous thoughts free.
There was an imperial command, of course. But more than that, what truly scared her was the thought that Kyle might push her farther away.
"…Nothing happened. What exactly does that mean?"
She forced her instincts down and asked after the words he'd just spoken. She had the rough idea already, but she wanted a definite answer.
"Exactly what it sounds like. The Independent Lords stay Independent Lords. And there were never any sudden shipwrecked castaways from the Coalition on that island. That's the end of it."
Kyle's words drew a deep smile onto Yulika's face.
Leaving the Independent Lords as they were meant he would keep killing to a minimum. And "no castaways" meant he planned to seize every last one of them and ship them back to the Empire.
They were the Coalition hardliners. The Empire would never let them go until the day they died. The Empire got to scrub out dangerous elements; the John Nassen family got to erase every last trace of the drugs. And if the bloodshed stayed light, southern sentiment wouldn't sour too badly either. They might even feel the overwhelming gap with the Empire and start thinking differently.
"You know, right? That the island is Pardal Island. That the one who took in those castaways is the lord of Pardal Island."
"Yes. Thanks to a certain someone who provided the information, I'm well aware."
Pardal Island. The place where the royal house of one of the southern kingdoms defeated by the Empire had fled. They had settled there and spent centuries as a single lordship. Relations with the Empire were inevitably strained—not quite open enemies, but not the sort of people you could share a laugh with, either. These days it was the hub of the anti-imperial Independent Lords.
"I'll be careful. This will not turn into a war."
"I wonder. Do you also know there's a powerhouse under him who can stand toe-to-toe with our Imperial 10 Strongest?"
Huh? That was news to him.
Lady Elga. How could you leave out something this important? He'd almost finished the job and slipped away without even meeting the man. That would have been such a waste.
"His name's Arcane. Used to be a pirate, then for some reason he went under the lord of Pardal Island. Rumor has it he wields a sword that crashes like the waves. His epithet is Wave Catcher."
"A sword that crashes like the waves? Is he using magic or something?"
"I don't know the details. It's all rumor."
A sword that crashes like the waves, huh. Wow. Not even a little scary.
At the very least it ought to be a tsunami or a glacier bearing down. What was a wave supposed to do? In the John Nassen family, that stuff was all just water.
"You're going to run into that Wave Catcher, Kyle."
"Sounds fun. Honestly I was worried it was going to be too boring. Now my heart's finally starting to race a little."
Anyone who didn't know the situation would have scoffed. A young man barely into his twenties, swaggering without the first idea how terrifying the world could be—dismissing the swordsman ranked highest among the southern Independent Lords as nothing.
"Hmm. I truly hope you can live up to that. And I hope the Wave Catcher doesn't break too early."
But Yulika, for her part, was worrying about the Wave Catcher. She had already clashed with Kyle more than once. She knew. Whether the other man was the Wave Catcher or some other powerhouse, Kyle was going to win in the end.
"If you need anything, say so. There's an imperial command to support you with whatever you require."
"Hmm. Not sure. Nothing comes to mind."
"You don't need anything? Kyle. Pardal Island is a long way from the southern ports. You know that?"
"I've heard it's not exactly close."
At Kyle's answer the princess's brow tightened slightly. She gestured a Special Affairs agent over and had him explain what he knew.
"As far as I understand, even if you take a fast ship from the southern port, catch a fair wind with the sails full out, and sail in calm seas, it still takes more than half a day."
"Did you hear that? That's how long the trip is. Without a good fast ship, it's rough."
Even an Imperial 10 Strongest was helpless before nature. You couldn't split the sea. To cross the open ocean you needed a ship. Even under ideal conditions it was more than half a day's voyage.
"Under the imperial command we can requisition a vessel. A fast ship would be—"
"I appreciate the thought, Your Highness, but I don't need a ship."
But the man across from her came from a world that rejected even that obvious truth.
"Ah. Instead of a ship, could I ask for something else?"
"…What?"
"I'd like you to find me some training equipment and stock the drill ground behind the villa."
"You'll be gone in two weeks anyway, won't you?"
"Even if I were leaving in two days instead of two weeks, I still have to train. It makes me anxious if I don't."
"…"
After a brief silence, the princess finally nodded—ignoring the knights and agents staring as if to ask what kind of absurd request this was.
"Nothing else? Really? You're not taking a ship?"
"No. I'll handle it myself. Since it's come to this, I might as well finish it today."
He'd be gone for about a day, so she should invent some excuse for him. Leaving the cleanup to the princess, Kyle loosened up in high spirits.
Round up the roiders and thrash them, then chew up, tear into, taste, and enjoy the so-called powerhouse. Eat the pheasant and get the egg too. Two birds with one stone, right?
Countless islands littered the southern reaches of the continent. Some you could reach with a short swim; others barely brushed the edge of the horizon. For that reason every island had its messenger boats and passenger ferries. The ferries in particular were as vital a means of transport as carriages on land.
The captain of one such ferry, the Running Sheep, glanced back and forth between sky and sea.
"Fine wind. Calm seas. The sea god must be in a good mood today."
"You're telling me. Just a few days ago the waves were brutal."
"At this rate we'll make it in plenty of time. Looks like you win."
"Hahaha! Thanks to you I'll pocket a little cash!"
The captain laughed and told him to buy a round with the winnings. Once they put into the island on the far side, today's run was over. A drink and a day off wouldn't hurt anyone.
Tomorrow is Pardal Island, huh.
Among the southern islands and the Independent Lords who ruled them, Pardal Island was the largest and the most prosperous. People said once you went in, you never wanted to leave—and that was no empty boast.
Last time I went in I really didn't want to leave either.
A seaman wasn't supposed to pine for solid ground instead of the sea. But once you'd tasted that sweet life on land, it was almost impossible to quit.
The captain was gazing out over the water with these thoughts when he let out an "Huh?" and hastily rubbed his eyes.
Coming from the exact opposite direction the ferry was sailing, a person was swimming.
He wondered if he was seeing a mirage. Absolutely not. A mirage like that couldn't exist in this world.
"Castaway! Castaway spotted!"
At the captain's shout the crew stopped what they were doing and scanned the sea. Rescuing castaways was a duty as old as the sea itself. Whoever the person was, the first job was to pull them out of that blue hell.
Splash! Splash!—
Even as the ship drew near, the castaway didn't stop. The way he kept swimming for his life looked almost pitiful.
"Over here! Over here! Hey!"
Pulling the ship any closer was dangerous. So the captain bellowed with everything he had, and only then did the castaway react.
"What."
But the response that came back was nothing like a castaway's. If anything, the frown said: why are you stopping a perfectly fine swimmer?
Unfortunately the captain, who could neither read that face nor hear that tone for what it was, only tried all the harder to save him in a frantic voice.
"I'm throwing a rope now! Grab it tight! We'll haul you in!"
Splash—.
"Hey! The rope! Grab the rope! What are you—"
Instead of taking the rope he was told to grab, the castaway swam closer to the hull. Once he was near enough to make out the captain's face, he opened his mouth.
"Excuse me. Is Pardal Island this way?"
"…What?"
"I'm asking if I keep going this way, will I hit Pardal Island."
You would. Keep going this way and you'd get there. The problem was that "keep going" meant an hour. This was not shallow water you could swim. It was the open sea, deep as it came. No matter what you did, you could not get there by swimming!
"Yes, Pardal Island is that way! So get out of the water first! What in the world are you thinking, doing that in the open sea! We'll find you a ship to Pardal—just grab the rope!"
"Ah, no need. You keep going. Thanks. I was a little worried I might be off course."
And with that the castaway—no, the young man—turned and swam on through the sea once more. The captain, the crew, and the passengers all lost the power of speech at a sight beyond imagining. What kind of madman decided he was going to swim this ocean?
"Wh-what was that, Captain? What did we just see?"
"…I don't know either. Did we see a ghost?"
They stared after the young man with dazed eyes as he grew more distant.
…But how is he already that far?
The young man who had been right in front of them had become a tiny speck and vanished. Their ship had slowed to save him and was only now preparing to get underway again—so how had the distance opened up that much?
Whoa. He's insanely fast.
At that speed, he might actually reach his destination. Some young man's stunt of a challenge, maybe?
When they put into Pardal Island tomorrow, he would have to ask, the captain thought.