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Cecils Segmund, the young man in the odd blue outfit, was one of the most powerful warriors of the Holy Volakian Empire.
In the man’s homeland, some warriors were accorded the rank of general, including general third-class, general second-class, and general first-class. Of those in this top rank, general first-class, there were only nine, and they were known as the Nine Divine Generals. Cecils himself was foremost among this group, and without question the most powerful fighter in the empire. That also made him a menace to the kingdom that could not be ignored. Just as Reinhard had been subjected to onerous bureaucratic vetting and harsh limitations on his freedoms when he had visited the empire, Cecils should have been subject to much the same wariness on the part of the kingdom. And yet here he was.
“It’s an honor to meet you again, Master Cecils. But when did you arrive in the kingdom, if I may ask? Perhaps it’s simply above our station to be notified, but we hadn’t heard of any Volakian visitors of importance arriving…”
“Oh my goodness, no, don’t worry about it. It’s not a failure of the old report-relay-review. I just decided to show up here—didn’t report to or review with anyone!”
“Ah. I see.” Julius had been trying to wheedle an answer out of Cecils, but he hadn’t expected that response. The knight wasn’t sure how to react.
Julius had moved them off the main road, with its many eyes, to a little tea shop he knew. They wouldn’t be quite so widely observed here, though he’d had to drag Cecils, overjoyed at their unexpected reunion, almost by force. Now the interloper was calmly drinking some black tea, looking around the shop with curiosity and peppering the staff with questions about the exact varieties of tea leaves they used. Julius and Ferris watched him silently.
“What do we do?”
“First, we see what he’s up to.”
This conversation took place entirely with their eyes.
They had, after all, run into a first-rank general of the empire while explicitly out on patrol in the capital. The two of them felt a little guilty, considering how pleased Cecils seemed to be to see them, but both of them were deeply conflicted. And when they discovered that his visit was unofficial, they started to hope this would all turn out to be some sort of nightmare. Thus, the retreat into the tea shop—and into the seats farthest from the door, in hopes of taking matters in hand as quickly as possible.
“Oh, you don’t have to look quite so panicked. I haven’t come to do the kingdom any harm,” Cecils said with no hesitation, as if reading their minds.
“ ” Neither Julius nor Ferris said anything.
“Do you really imagine that I, Cecils Segmund, would engage in base property destruction or assassination, even if His Majesty the Emperor ordered me to? Please, I’m above such underhanded methods. You can set your minds at ease.”
“Um… Even if Emperor Vincent ordered you?” Ferris’s voice was hard, his guard up, but Cecils could not have been more comfortable.
“It would be such a blow to my reputation, to say nothing of my pride. If I’m reduced to that kind of skulking around, I might as well be dead. And I don’t intend to die anytime soon.” Cecils sat easily in his chair, sipping his tea with no hint of hostility. He had removed his swords, which were now leaning against the back wall—his way of demonstrating his good intentions, perhaps. At the very least, he didn’t seem set on causing any trouble.
“…Very well, then, let’s go back a step. You say your presence here is not at the behest of the empire?”
“Never even asked—His Majesty and friends would have only made things so much more complicated. And I’ve heard it’s just a nightmare, the paperwork you have to do to cross the border. I seem to remember what a headache you all had coming to our place, no?”
“But you should have been subject to the same—Wait, don’t tell me you forced your way in?”
“Nothing so outrageous. I just ran from my side of the border to yours, going as fast as I could the whole way. I really would have stopped if anyone had told me to.”
Julius tried his best to curtail the frown that crossed his face at this rather overly honest response. Cecils claimed to have simply bypassed the border checkpoint. It was no lie, nor any joke, but most probably a simple statement of the truth. He wasn’t called The Blue Lightning of Volakia for no reason: He had the speed to match such a title. It was no little trick or fancy footwork to make himself look quicker than he was; he could genuinely move fast enough to defy human senses. To the men at the guard post, he had likely looked no different from a passing breeze.
“ ” Julius thought back to his encounter with Cecils in Volakia. It had taken all his strength and skill simply to defend himself from Cecils’s swordsmanship. Thanks to the intervention of a third party, he had left the encounter with his head and body still attached to each other, but if the fight hadn’t been interrupted, there was a good chance that right now… And that was when Julius got a hunch about why the kimono-wearing man was visiting.
“Could it be that the real reason you’ve come here, Master Cecils…?”
“I don’t suppose you’d believe it’s just for sightseeing?” Cecils smiled wryly at the spirit mage’s change in demeanor.
Ferris, also in full view of the foreigner’s grin, pursed his lips. “Meow, we wouldn’t,” he offered. “Though, we’d sure appreciate if that were true… Eh, unfortunately, even Ferri kind of figured it wasn’t.”
“Ah-ha-ha, so even the lovely cat-eared lady has seen through me. How embarrassing. But men have their principles—I wouldn’t blame the young lady for not understanding.” Cecils scratched his cheek in embarrassment. Ever since their first meeting, he had been under an ongoing misconception about Ferris’s gender, but this didn’t seem like the moment to correct him.
“Reinhard van Astrea,” Cecils said brusquely. He gazed at the tea in his cup for a moment, then continued, “It’s a source of great pain to all of us, myself included, that we were unable to offer him appropriate hospitality on his recent visit to the empire. I come with apologies from the bottom of my heart.”
“And what, you’re here to make it all better? Color Ferri meowy skeptical.” It was a mixture of exasperation, sarcasm, and plain, simple suspicion of a very dangerous man who had shown up unexpectedly. Such an openly hostile attitude was a risk when dealing with Volakia’s strongest fighter, but at least there was no question that he meant what he said. Ferris stood head and shoulders above the rest of the royal healers, had taken care of many patients as The Blue, and, furthermore, was a knight with a responsibility to support his candidate for the kingship. He could never welcome any seed of trouble from outside the country, no matter how affable they might be.
Ferris stared daggers at Cecils, but the visitor adopted a self-deprecating smile. “It’s very much as you say, my cat-eared beauty. I myself admit to the most appalling of behavior and fully grant that I deserve only your suspicion. However—”
“‘However,’ what?”
“—I may be rotten, but I remain the greatest of Volakia’s Nine Divine Generals. My complete and utter failure to overcome your Sword Saint bears directly on the authority of my nation. If I can’t expunge my dishonor of the other day, it will shake the very foundations of the empire. Consider it a proxy battle between the empire and the kingdom.” The swordsman spoke calmly, politely, and eloquently. But if one were to ask whether his words showed understanding and acumen, they most assuredly did not. Cecils’s mind was made up, and although his thoughts were bent on violence, it was understandable. “I’m very much aware of how much weight I bear on these shoulders of mine. You two Knights of the Royal Guard must feel much the same. The color of what we carry may be different, but the substance is nearly identical.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Master Cecils. But I must wonder why we concluded a nonaggression pact, if you and Reinhard were simply going to have a ‘proxy battle.’”
“Oops, I’m afraid perhaps you don’t understand. My suggestion is merely a fight to settle things. Any taking of life is secondary.” It seemed a bit of a counterintuitive point. “He and I both have our places in our respective nations. Though, I confess it would be quite a thrill to conduct a battle with our two countries riding on us, like the Silver Flower Dance of Pictat.”
“You’re referring to the battle between the Sword Devil and Eight-Arms, almost forty years ago?”
“I think the highest heights of swordsmanship at the time had much in common with what we do now. How I would love to talk with the Sword Devil someday! You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you?”
The Blue Lightning of Volakia was obviously bursting with curiosity, but Ferris and Julius both looked at him flatly. Did Julius know this swordsman, the Sword Devil, personally? Not so. But neither could it be said that they were completely and utterly unrelated to each other, for one of Julius’s friends was a blood relative of the man.
Ferris, however, seeking to prevent further derailment of the conversation, clapped his hands and said, “All right, all right. We don’t know this Sword Devil, and we don’t want to know him—sounds like a problem waiting to happen—and anyway, we’re getting off subject! Why are you so set on battling Reinhard?”
“…I must say, I agree with Ferris. My swordsmanship is quite underdeveloped compared with yours, Master Cecils, but even to my untutored eye, your chances of victory seem—”
“Hey, now, planning to challenge me yourself before the big day? Just so you know, the shortness of my temper is so notorious in the empire that it’s even come up in the Imperial Parliament.”
“Yeah, must be pretty embarrassing when the empire’s strongest fighter can’t pass up an insult.”
Cecils’s tone had remained light, but Julius and Ferris looked at him sharply. “Hmm,” he said, crossing his arms, as if their gazes had gotten through to him. “Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve never encountered a fight that really pushed me to my limits.”
“ ” Neither of them responded.
“Surpassing intelligence and overwhelming physical ability are one within me. Truly, is such a being not destined to take the lead role? The Sword Saint is the first wall, you might say, that I’ve encountered. And walls can’t be avoided.”
“Why?”
“Is it that confusing?” Cecils responded, appearing genuinely perplexed. “A character can’t run from the challenges of his story.”
This view of himself as an actor, forever standing on life’s stage, was hard for most people to fathom. Julius nonetheless narrowed his eyes when he saw how natural and comfortable Cecils appeared to be. There was an alienation there, one he sometimes felt toward his friends, colleagues, and even superiors, mingled with an envy toward something Julius was certain he didn’t have.
“Very well. I understand what you’re saying.”
“Excellent! That’s the nature of a bond born from trading blows! Two people really can understand each other after that!”
“However, my position being what it is, I can hardly just look the other way while you run free, Master Cecils. I will have to report this to the castle, after which I believe it will be in the best interests of both our nations for you to return home.”
“It turns out you didn’t understand me at all!” wailed the man in the kimono. If his presence was indeed reported to the knights’ garrison, he would certainly not avoid deportation. Though, Julius felt bad for him. This was partly the result of Cecils’s station, after all.
“Huh! If that’s how it’s to be, I suppose I’ll have to cut you down to shut you up, find the Sword Saint for myself, and—”
“However, I might see my way to entertaining your request, with conditions,” Julius continued, interrupting the Volakian general before he could finish what would have been a very troublesome threat.
“Julius?!” Cecils was dumbfounded, while Ferris shook his friend by the shoulders. The cat-boy’s face was pale. “Have you lost your mind?! You’re actually going to listen to this nutty idea?!”
“I’m afraid I can’t speak to the state of my own sanity, but my suggestion, at least, is serious. Besides, if we act too obstinate, the possibility remains that Cecils will simply dispose of us and go on with his quest.”
“ !” Ferris nearly choked, although his fellow knight sounded calm. When Julius glanced at Cecils, he saw he had edged closer to where his swords leaned against the wall.
“Heavens,” Cecils said, “I have no intention whatsoever of such overt violence. But…would you really consider my request?”
“As I said, there would be conditions. If you can follow them, then…”
“Tell me,” Cecils said, sitting up straighter as he registered that Julius was indeed serious.
Julius held up three fingers. “First, you are not to turn your sword upon any citizen of the kingdom other than Reinhard.”
“But of course.”
“Second, if by chance your presence should become known to the knights, you are to respectfully turn yourself in and submit to their judgment, even if it results in you being ejected from the country.”
“And if I accept this condition, will you not simply run to your unit and alert them to me?”
“You’ll have to trust that my pride is as dear to me as yours is to you, Master Cecils.”
“…Fair enough. How can I object when you put it that way? Indeed, I admire it.” The Volakian agreed to Julius’s second condition with a battle-hungry smile. “I accept without further protest. If that’s all it takes to wash the humiliation from my name, it’s a small price to pay.”
“And finally…return to your empire alive. If you were to die, it would truly mean war.”
“Ha-ha-ha, yes, I see. Ahh, you do know how to taunt a man.” Cecils, who himself had confessed to being easily provoked, frowned at this last condition. But then quite immediately, the mood of the Divine General changed, and he downed his remaining tea in one gulp. “I shall answer all with my sword, including your little tease. Is that all your conditions?”
“Yes. As long as you will hold to them.”
“Indeed, so I shall! Guide me forth, then. To my most perfect opponent, the Sword Saint!”
Having heard and accepted the conditions, Cecils bounded to his feet. He returned his beloved swords to their usual position at his hip, and then he turned eager eyes on Julius, who nodded deeply.
“Master Cecils, before I guide you to where you wish to go, I have something very important to say.”
“And what would that be? My fervor is already at its greatest extremity, and I wish to go forth to my battle before it should wither or ebb!”
“The issue is Reinhard. He isn’t in the capital right now.”
“Huh?” The Volakian’s mouth fell open so wide, it seemed his jaw might drop off.
“Reinhard’s meowy busy, being the Sword Saint. Right now, he’s off in the northern part of the kingdom, accompanying some kind of expedition. He’ll probably be back…what would you say, next week?” Ferris put a finger to his lips in thought.
“B-b-but that means…” Cecils stared despairingly at the ceiling. “That means I’ll have to put off our fight again! I can’t stand it!” This was the second time they had heard such whining from the empire’s strongest, and perhaps unluckiest, fighter.
That was hardly something to brag about, though—Julius and Ferris both just shrugged.
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