Yakuza Death Beam (1)
Renhel—home to the main branch of the Hall of Artists, a city every artist was said to pass through at least once.
—The City of Art and Romance, Renhel.
Beneath the signboard bearing that city’s name, a man slept with a large sheet of paper for a blanket.
Homeless artists were one of Renhel’s most common sights, so passersby simply ignored him and walked on.
“Ugh…”
His thick, frost-stiffened beard quivered in the night chill. White breath puffed from his lips as the failed artist sat up. His name was Satton.
“What’s with this paper…?”
He had no memory of covering himself with it. Had someone left it here?
Muttering, Satton fished a pair of glasses from the pocket of his coat—little more than rags—and peered at the mysterious sheet.
A flyer stuffed with conspiracy theories that belonged in some unsellable cheap novel.
“What the hell is this even supposed to mean…”
Bemused, Satton tore the paper to shreds.
Unsellable. Cheap.
Those words suddenly stabbed deep into his chest.
—This is going to be huge!
After receiving a thunderbolt of inspiration in Martolan, he had finished writing The Bird That Drinks Steel and raced straight to Renhel.
—This isn’t proper fantasy!
They had thrown him out of the Hall of Artists on the spot.
—Mr. Satton? Why do you think people read novels these days? For enlightenment and moral lessons? Did you even think before you opened your mouth? No. They just need something to kill time when they’re alone. Sweaty tales of earnest warriors? Who the hell reads that? Are you insane?
Even after swallowing his pride and visiting Chocolate Parchment, he had been shown the door.
“Hic…”
Fat tears rolled down Satton’s cheeks. In the world of romantic (read: erotic) novels he had been someone of note; this kind of treatment was hard to bear.
And now even his emergency funds were gone.
—I’ll leave you an orchard if you want. Just come home before you drag the family name through the mud.
His elder brother’s words cut deeper than usual today.
But if he backed down now, the name of a great literary master would weep.
“…It’s fine to shed tears. Just don’t shed the tears of the heart.”
People stared at the muttering man as if he were a lunatic and hurried past.
Growl.
“…Guess I’d better look for guild work.”
Satton wiped his eyes with a sleeve and pushed himself to his feet.
He still had to live through today.
Three days had passed since the Yakuza & Yokai Konjac Incident.
Whenever I had free time I went outside and scoured every place the yakuza might be hiding, but the haul had been slim.
“—So I believe Sir Tren should take command of the wall sector.”
“Understood.”
The yakuza were finally starting to move; war would break out within three days at the latest.
A meeting to prepare for the coming siege was underway inside a large tent.
“I will guard the gate with the soldiers.”
“Having you with us is a great relief, Miss Sayleen.”
Four hours later.
I was going to lose my mind.
My own fault for butting in because it looked important.
Pinching my thigh to stay awake was losing its effect.
“Delbanas is a commander, so she won’t be on the front line. The one we must watch most carefully in battle is Dorn. One of my comrades died by that bastard’s hand.”
Tren ground his teeth so hard I could hear it. At his age, that much grinding would leave him with dentures later.
Hatred that went too far was poison.
Anyway—Dorn?
I felt like I’d heard the name. Owner of the hand-axe, maybe?
Orphe gave me a small nod, so that was probably it.
I wanted to tell him the guy was already taken care of and he could relax, but it had to stay secret, so there was nothing I could do.
Hopefully he wouldn’t start shadow-boxing during the siege for no reason.
“That’s enough for today.”
Finally over.
Orphe, still full of questions, latched onto the others and kept asking things. She looked exactly like a kid who refuses to stop raising her hand after class ends.
“Nin-nin.”
Fearing someone might latch onto me next with errands or questions, I slipped out of the tent at once.
A few steps and I was outside—small mercies.
Trudge, trudge.
After a short walk I spotted a familiar face.
“Hey, Hammerhead.”
“B-Boss.”
Of the Four Thug Musketeers, he was the one I’d “reformed” the most. His body looked sturdier than when we first met; you could tell he hadn’t skipped a single day of training.
I glanced around and spotted the others too.
Anglerfish already looked like he’d aged ten years. Unicorn seemed fine—second-best shape after Hammerhead.
Proboscis was losing hair, but even I doubted it was actual baldness. Temporary malnutrition, most likely.
Not my responsibility in the slightest.
“You’re doing well. Keep living like that.”
“Haha…”
Hammerhead laughed awkwardly, then suddenly tightened both hands around his wooden spear.
“…Boss. Truth is, I’ve wanted to be a knight since I was a kid.”
Ah. I shouldn’t have acted like I cared.
Now he was going to unpack a whole life story nobody would ever ask about again.
Time for a firm refusal.
“I just want to go home and sleep.”
“I know. With my status and ability I’ll never make it. Still… these past few days really were fun. Even if I never become a knight—even if I’m just a regular soldier—I can still protect someone. That’s how I feel no—”
You keep talking. I’m leaving.
I left Hammerhead chattering away behind me and headed down from the wall.
Nothing is more boring than listening to someone else’s petty personal drama.
The only people who enjoy that are voyeurs or yokai digging for personal info so they can wear someone’s skin.
“Last one up is it!”
“Diana! You’re running too far ahead by yourself!”
Coming down the stairs I found Diana racing around with the other kids. She looked like she was having more fun than during my human lessons, which annoyed me a little.
Wartime rules said every child should be locked indoors, but the lord of Goldon had insisted he wouldn’t steal the children’s lives as well, so this was the result.
He’d promised that once the fighting started the kids would be evacuated somewhere safe.
I shot a warning look at the wildly laughing Diana and headed for the plaza.
The road home felt endless today.
“…Tree spirit.”
I reached the plaza.
A boy driven mad by the frenzy of war (and an extreme tree-spirit enthusiast) sat with hollow eyes on the spot where the old tree had once stood. He’d been there for days, clutching a single piece of wood. It was a little pitiful.
I’m bad at comfort, so I decided to ignore him.
I was still walking when it happened.
“E-Emergency! Emergency!”
A private came sprinting out of the watchtower and screamed at the top of his lungs so the whole place could hear.
“Th-They’re here!”
As always, it never rains but it pours.
“How many?!”
Tren, clad in full plate, stood atop the wall with the soldiers.
A band of mounted raiders and a vast throng of bandits were thundering across the plain.
“A-At least five hundred. Maybe seven hundred!”
“They’ve gathered every bandit in the region.”
Tren nodded.
The gate was finished, and there were hundreds of young men on the walls who could at least throw rocks. The bandits weren’t likely to have any real siege engines.
“No matter how many there are, they’re still just a pack of thieves.”
Yet for some reason Dorn was nowhere to be seen at the front.
After scanning the battlefield, Tren raised his voice.
“This is war! Those without training, evacuate the children and the elderly! Those who have trained, to your posts!”
The milling crowd began to form ranks.
The few archers took position; men with slings headed for the walls. The moment the spearmen settled inside the gate, every preparation was complete.
Thud.
And the enemy arrived before Goldon Castle.
Delbanas dismounted, drew a deep breath, and bellowed.
“Open the gates and leave! Run now and you might still live!”
Empty noise meant to crush the soldiers’ spirits and plant tiny cracks of doubt.
Tren answered the transparent ploy head-on.
“You’re nothing but plunderers! You’ll pay for every village you’ve sacked and for drawing steel against Goldon!”
“Yeah!”
“We’ll blind the lot of you!”
The bandits hurled insults right back.
“Heard you were sleeping with the lord’s woman—that true?”
“Goldon’s future sure looks bright!”
At a comfortable distance both sides poured out furious shouts, trying to seize the initiative and heat the air to boiling.
Then, without warning, Delbanas shrugged off her cloak and thrust her right hand toward Goldon’s walls.
“…?”
Tren sensed something wrong, but before the thought could form—
Delbanas’s body flared green.
Pshew—
A green projectile shot from her outstretched hand.
“Take cover!”
The order came a fraction too late. People scrambled; Tren, judging the distance impossible to dodge, raised his shield.
The instant the projectile struck the wall—
KRA-BOOM—!
The center of Goldon’s wall shattered and collapsed.
“Ghk—!”
Tren went flying with the wreckage of his shield and slammed into the ground.
“Ahh…!”
“Impossible…”
Chaos seized Goldon before the siege had even begun.
“You should have run.”
Delbanas sneered and raised her right hand again, this time aiming at the gate.
Another projectile launched.
BOOM!
Just like that, the gate was gone.
“Hrm…”
After firing the beam twice, Delbanas sank to her knees, green smoke pouring from her body as if she had overloaded.
“Charge!”
Her right-hand man Smith gave the order in her place.
“Uwaaaaaah!”
With Goldon’s defeat all but certain, the mounted raiders and the bandit horde surged forward.