CHAPTER 3
Naturally, I could escape from here at any time. Since my Beefy Seatbelts were men, they both had their weak point. All it would take is two punches to the groin and my arms would be free. Then, a purposeful jump from the moving carriage onto the shoulder! Eight rolls forwards, stick the landing, and collect an uncontested 10.0 from the judges!
Ouch! The thought alone was painful.
But escape wasn't impossible -- if you accepted the risk of whiplash. It probably would feel as if you were thrown to the mat fifty times by a judo fighter. Whether I would survive it wasn't the real problem. My real problem was Murata!
How could I rescue him from the carriage behind us? And if I jumped out onto the street, wouldn't the next carriage just roll over me, anyway? Damn it, why did I deserve this? I hadn't even committed any crimes!
I had to come up with a plausible reason why the carriage would have to stop. Then I would just have to make it through the door and leg it! A potty break, that was the answer! But how could I get Murata to play along? I gave telepathy a try.
Peeing, now -- Muraken. You need to pee -- Muraken, I pleaded with him in my mind.
The musclemen next to me started to fidget restlessly on their seats. Damn it, not you!
As we left the harvested fields behind, a broad steppe landscape widened before us. The vegetation was so pathetically thin that it barely covered the ground. Winter was on its way.
All of a sudden, Flynn shut the curtains.
"Drive faster!" she commanded in a tense voice and crossed her arms in front of her breasts. Small worry wrinkles appeared on her forehead; she seemed to be brooding intensely on something.
Gwendal also made that kind of face all the time. With a bad conscience, I'd forced all the state matters off on him. No wonder the poor thing was swimming in worries.
Flynn didn't have it much better. She had taken over the role of her dead husband and did everything possible to protect her country. The folded mask on her lap spoke volumes.
One of the musclemen suddenly pricked his ears. The thundering of the horses' hooves had changed their rhythm. Something disturbed the harmony.
"Horsemen!" Everyone abruptly went pale.
"It's the Steppe Brotherhood! Drive faster!" Flynn cried.
"Faster, Milady? That's impossible!"
Flynn's driver hung like a frantic jockey from the coachman's seat. He looked like he was about to bite his tongue off.
"You've got to lose them somehow! They can't find out we're heading west!"
"Why not?" I asked agitatedly. "What happens if they find out!?"
The whole carriage rocked like crazy and we were thoroughly shaken up on the seats.
"Carolia and the Steppe Brotherhood officially belong to Small Simaron," Flynn explained. "If we pay a visit to Big Simaron on our own initiative, our colonial power wouldn't take it lightly."
Once again with this ominous "Brotherhood." Flynn always scrunched up her forehead in disgust when she spoke of it. These strange brothers probably got the same classification as Maxine to her.
We'd recently had to beat up a little on Nigel Weiz Maxine, the guy with the ponytail. I kept involuntarily remembering the cry he let out as he fell from an upper floor. It was hard to believe he could come away from that unscathed.
"They're catching up to us," Flynn noted as she risked a glance behind the carriage.
I turned around too, along with my Seatbelts. They had already caught up to our rear guard; four or five of the riders were about as far back as Murata's carriage. In spite of our four horsepower, we didn't stand a chance. It was only a matter of time.
"What kind of guys are these, anyway? Like yakuza?" I asked.
"They're Small Simaron's henchmen. Those dishonorable, spineless fools lick the boots of the powerful. If they find out where we're headed, they'll be only too happy to betray us. For praise from the mouth of His All-powerful Highness Saralegi, the Seer, they would do anything!" Flynn snarled.
Saralegi -- Maxine had mentioned that name too. That guy was supposed to be the king of Small Simaron or something. Flynn had hatefully called him "The Seer" -- was that some kind of title?
Our carriage suddenly decelerated. Flynn let out a hysterical cry. She'd long lost the control to portray her husband.
"Why are we stopping?! Keep driving! We've got to lose them!"
"Milady, we are stuck in the middle of a herd of sheep."
"A herd of sheep?" Flynn repeated as she stumbled to the small window and looked forwards.
Sheep, sheep, sheep, as far as the eye could see. A giant herd of sheep had brought this express highway for carriages to a complete standstill.
As the wheels creaked and groaned, Flynn lost her composure completely. She repeatedly and pointlessly shoved a cushion from one side of the carriage to the other. "Oh dear, what am I supposed to do now? How do I get out of this? And then those annoying customs on top of it all, shit!" slipped out of Flynn's mouth in an unladylike manner. She was about to have a panic attack.
While Flynn was pulling her hair out, the carriage went slower and slower until it came to a complete stop in the middle of the herd of sheep. The wandering livestock had us surrounded. Countless wool labels buzzed around in my head: hand wash only!
Parting the cream-colored sea of sheep, two members of the Steppe Brotherhood approached.
"They can't find out that I'm alone," Flynn said.
"What do you mean, alone? We've pretty much got a whole traveling party," I said.
"Oh, yes, you're right about that. It's very comforting not to be alone," Flynn sighed, but right after that she cried, "Oh goodness, no! That only makes everything worse! In Small Simaron, women are forbidden to travel alone, but it's even worse when a woman is with a man who isn't her husband!"
"Flynn, calm down! Things will work themselves out. Take a deep breath!"
My attempt to get her to relax seemed to be working. Flynn regained a little of her composure. She laid her hand on her chest to settle her breathing.
"Many thanks, Captain Crusoe. I'm feeling a little better already. We have to get this situation under control somehow. After all, my task is not yet complete. I must bring you and Mr. Robinson into the motherland of Big Simaron."
The only question left was, as a prisoner, what should I do in this situation? Should I seize the opportunity and make a run for it? Wouldn't we just run right into the arms of the Steppe Brotherhood? And would those gangsters treat us like guests or sink us to the bottom of Tokyo Bay as enemies? For now, I decided to wait.
"I'll speak to the men," Flynn said.
"Stay cool, Boss!" I called to her.
Flynn stepped slowly out of the carriage and walked towards our pursuers.
There were two strongly built men with clipped beards like Maxine's, wearing bright blue riding uniforms.
"Those are afros!" I cried.
It was true! The superb brown hairdos, the same color as their horses, were afros just like in the picture books. I really wanted to take a photo. Real afros! Not those imitation pseudo-hairstyles in Japan.
Flynn seemed to be complaining about something to the men. She raised her voice. "But Father!"
Father?
"Flynn and the afro-man are father and daugher?!"
"Yep," one of my Seatbelts said.
"I've already explained it to you, Father!" Flynn continued. "It's not my intention to travel alone to Big Simaron. Sir Norman is with me. His health is poor, so we want to consult with a good doctor in the motherland."
"If your husband needs a doctor, my child, all you'd have to do is turn to the Brotherhood, or to His Majesty Saralegi. And besides that, my son in law has neglected to pay a visit to the motherland for three years, using his health as the excuse. So my doubts there are more than justified, even you must admit it."
The truth about Norman Gilbit had apparently not made the rounds.
"Father! Are you trying to imply that Norman is not capable of attending to the duties of governing and leading the people?!"
"But no, my child, I wasn't saying that at all. I'm only saying that if Sir Norman isn't capable of leading the people because of his illness, you can count on us at any time. We're family, after all."
"Carolia is doing fine on its own. Despite his illness and the accident, Sir Norman is absolutely capable of governing our country, I mean, the autonomous region under Small Simaron's sovereignty. Your concern is completely unnecessary, Father!"
"And so why is it that I never get to lay eyes on my son in law?!"
Flynn faltered, her self-confident look seemed unsure for a moment. She knew the answer to that question better than anyone: Norman could no longer be counted among the living. Perhaps she could fool foreigners like Murata and me, but her own father?
"Flynn!" he called suddenly. "Have you forgotten your own background? Although you are Carolian now, you still belong to the Steppe Brotherhood. Don't forget, my child! What was the reason you were married into the Gilbit family?"
"You won't get your wish, Father!" The daughter lifted her head once more. "I know what you and my brother are thinking. I understand what all your plans are in aid of. I won't deliver you Carolia. Even if in the future, Sir Norman's health leaves something to be desired, I won't be turning to you for help!"
Shocked, I pulled myself back from the window. When I moved to sit back down in my original spot, muscleman number 2 tugged me kindly by the elbow, so that I didn't plop down onto his lap.
So what was going on? Flynn Gilbit's father appeared to be the boss of the Steppe Brotherhood. He married his daughter into the Gilbit clan to get control of Carolia. So Sir Norman was in danger of being thrown from the throne.
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