MaruMA:Volume02:Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I have the feeling that I'll be able to hear the ocean if I put this stone to my ear, for it must surely have crossed the ocean to get here from some distant country.

"You can hear the ocean even if you don't have that pressed against your ear—we are traveling on it, after all. Here, Your Majesty, please get up. Or at least decide if you want to get up or go to sleep."

"Woah, it's swaying!"

"Of course. We are on a ship."

Oh yeah.

We're travelling by ship to retrieve the strongest, baddest ultimate weapon in the world: the legendary sword Morgif, which can be wielded only by the Maou and is said to be sleeping on Van der Veer Island in the Cimarron domain where pretty much only Humans dwell.

It took a lot of persuading to convince Günter that going disguised as inconspicuous Humans was a better course than sending out the armada and getting attacked. My black hair's been dyed red to avoid suspicion; when Günter saw it, he trembled, eyes filling, and wailed, "My King has..." Yeah, and when did I become your Shibuya Yuuri? I'm not Shibuya Ward's catchphrase, geez.

The lamentation was horrible when he learned that he couldn't go with us—he managed to shatter three expensive-looking glasses in his dismay. But it'd be a total disaster if we went wandering around Human lands with an uber-beauty like you and some girl falls for you. And besides, if I don't have somebody clever stay behind in the capital and cover for me, news might get out that the king isn't around—when I explained all this to him, what I got back was: "Am I so despised by Your Majesty?" Then when I hurriedly told him, like one of those top-flight bosses, that I have no particular feelings of like or dislike for him, the tears came gushing out. I haven't met many people with such a remarkable gap between their looks and personality.

In the end I managed to convince my tutor somehow, and left the country with only Kaku-san, aka Conrad, in tow.

Among the Human kingdoms of Cavalcade, Sondergaard and Hildyard located across the sea from Shinma Kingdom, Hildyard is the only country with which Shinma Kingdom has diplomatic relations. We arrived on foreign soil three days after departing on a merchant ship from a port city in the Voltaire region.

Hildyard has maintained its relationship with Shinma Kingdom despite censure from its neighboring countries, supposedly out of gratitude for aid in the time of its founding. But that's only its official front; the truth is that trade is more profitable than ostracism.

It's one calculating country.

Schildkraut is located on Hildyard's southern tip. If it were an airport, it'd be a hub: ships and people gather here from all over the world, and it's as lively as a map of trade nations in miniature. After purchasing some popular Human products at the market, we boarded a gorgeous passenger ship heading for Van der Veer Island.

At least, that was the plan.

The luxury liner Günter had the local coordinator reserve (apparently there are people associated with the Mazoku placed in various locations in various territories, something of a grand spying scheme), though not on the level of the Titanic, is at least as gorgeous as Pinch-Hitter-Nic(k). It took me twenty seconds to sprint from one end of the ship to the other, so it's probably about a hundred meters or so in length.

Sailors wearing light-blue uniforms work in the cramped space beneath the folded, spotlessly white sails. The passengers coming abroad are dressed in the style of gentlemen and ladies from around the eighteenth century; the amount of luggage their porters are carrying on board is jaw-dropping.

"Wow...the only boat trips I've ever taken were the pirate ship at Hakone and the Mark Twain Riverboat at Disneyland.

"I don't know about the first, but the Mark Twain Riverboat trip would have been pretty short, hmm?"

We're pretty much settled into our roles as Humans by this time: "Young Master." "Stop that, it's not like I'm Natsume Souseki." And "Would you prefer master and servant, then?" "No way, I don't want to be some old geezer. Call me Goinkyo instead." "Wouldn't that make you even older?" we toss back and forth.

In the end, we decide on a loafing rich kid and his steward, and have a porter show us to our room—supposedly the best on the ship. All banter is choked off as soon as we open the door.

"...It's g-gorgeous beyond a doubt, but...um..."

The living room continues back into the bedroom. It's quite spacious. The walls and floor, even the window frames are beautifully decorated. It's not quite a suite at the Ritz, but you'd never think this was inside a boat. Of course there is a bathroom and toilet and other amenities, as well as sofas and a tea table with carved cat's-paw legs. The floor is scattered with intricately-woven rugs.

"Why does it have a double bed? I mean, more importantly—"

"You're late!"

Why is Wolfram sitting so regally on the double bed?!

I'm guessing that the gob-smacked look on Conrad's face means that he didn't expect this either.

"From the looks of it, this room is normally reserved for newly-weds. I presume Your Ma...my young masters are still in their prenuptial period...?"

"...I have no idea who's responsible for this mix-up either."

The next while is devoted to Wolfram being violently seasick, and so the afternoon passed. The second day of my trip on a gorgeous luxury liner is about to start.

"Please get up, Your Majesty, or would you like me to bring you breakfast in bed? A waiter has already set out the table."

A voice still in its death throes comes from beneath the blankets.

"Don't talk about food in front of me..."

"Oh, come on. Let's change, get our faces washed, and go get some food. I'm not seasick at all."

Wolfram, who stalked us to the ship and smuggled himself on board, ended up in front of the toilet as soon as we set sail. Now he's bedridden and refuses to eat or drink anything, even water. He can't even quarrel with me. With his ruffled gold hair straggling down blanched cheeks and eyes lightly closed, he looks like an angel who's fallen to earth and in despair because he cannot return home.

"Isn't there anything at all you want to eat? Bread or ice cream or pudding? Let's at least call room service to get you something to drink. Like milk or orange juice or yogurt, maybe?"

"Blaargh!"

"Sorry! I guess yogurt's having the opposite effect?!"

"Now Yuuri...I mean, Young Master, don't tease the patient. Here, hold still, I'll put in your contacts for you."

The made-in-Shinma Kingdom contacts, developed with all the Mazoku's ingenuity, turn my eyes a light brown. One ordinary red-haired, hazel-eyed Human to go.

"So Wolfram's not very good with boats, huh? I feel kinda sorry for him."

"That's why I told him not to come. But he looks so miserable that I've lost the desire to lecture him."

Just then the door of the neighboring room opens, and someone comes down the corridor: an elegantly-dressed, middle-aged gentleman holding the hand of a little girl who looks around five. He's not as tall as the Mazoku, but he's solidly built, and looks like he still has some years of active duty in him. What duty, I've no idea.

An intrepid smile appears on the gentleman's face beneath his beige mustache, and he slowly walks toward us with his right hand on luxuriant hair of the same color and the hat sitting on top. Then—

"Good morning."

"Woah!"

He sweeps hat and hair off together. The morning sun glistens on his bald head.

I take an involuntary step back. Is this like the sudden coming-out of a wig-wearer or something?!

"I must apologize, my master is not yet used to Cavalcadian greetings."

Conrad nods, smiling, a hand on my back.

"Oh, that was a greeting?"

Contact with foreign cultures is always so full of surprises.

Conrad smoothly engages him in conversation before my awkwardness becomes obvious. As planned, I act like a shy young man from a well-to-do family.

"Are you going to breakfast? My wife, alas, is seasick and resting in our room. Shall we head down together?"

I half-hide behind Conrad as cutesily as I can and shake my head slightly, staring at the floor. It's the only way I have of expressing how I feel about that idea.

"As you can see, my master is very shy."

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that. When I heard someone took the risk of smuggling himself onto the boat in pursuit of his betrothed, I wondered what sort of an ardent young worthy it was..."

Wolfram, we've become the topic of scandal.

The middle-aged gentleman replaces his hat and wig with a smug expression on his face.

"I never imagined it would be such a cute...ah, your pardon, I'm sure you have your share of troubles. ...Please excuse my belated introduction; I am Hiscruyff of Missinai, and this is my daughter Beatrice."

Cute would be the man's daughter, not me.

She's wearing a pale pink dress, the light brown hair she inherited from her parents in two ponytails. She's looking steadily at me. I feel totally awkward lying in front of a little kid, so I can only leave it to Conrad.

"My master is Mitsuemon from a crêpe silk merchant house in Echigo. I am called Kakunoshin of the same."

"Echigo? Where would that be?"

"It is located to the east of Ecchuu."

"Ecchuu..."

"North of Hida."

"W-Well, you seem to have come from a very distant land indeed."

Total confusion: huge success.

I wanted the "Megumi Freeloader," but Conrad is a fan of Komon-sama. Strangely enough, the sounds of the crêpe silk merchant house seem to echo in my ears.

"Ah so you must be headed for Van der Veer's Fire Festival...?"

"How stupid can you be?!"

The angry, malicious voice comes from somewhere nearby, and I start reflexively toward it. Kaku-san, aka Kakunoshin, apologizes to Hiscruyff and chases after me. We pass the doors of three luxury suites at a run and round the corridor containing the first-class cabins to the deck.

A sailor who looks every inch a man of the sea strikes a boy who appears to be his apprentice. It's probably just the age when people get jobs in this world, but still—the boy looks two or three years younger than me.

Conrad, who seems to have sensed my thoughts, murmurs briefly, "Please do not cause a scene."

"But he's just a kid!"

"Will it be all right if he is not beaten anymore?"

The light brown eyes turned to peer into mine shift completely into his role.

"I declare, Young Master, your whims will be the death of me."

I totally feel like the prodigal son now; the back of my head itches.

"Do apprentices on this ship receive beatings so early in the morning?"

"Shut yer mouth, I do what I want with...ah, my humble apologies for such an ugly scene, sir."

The sailor's attitude changes as soon as he realizes we're above-first-class passengers.

"But what can I do when he makes such stupid mistakes, eh?"

"This din is damaging my master's mood."

"Aaah...is this young gentleman your master?"

Conrad slips something to the sailor—probably money. The man twists his head over his shoulder to look at me. He smirks unpleasantly and rubs his chin.

"Well! I'm sure he is much care-laden. My humble apologies for this unpleasantness, your lordships!

"Enough. Get out of our sight."

He gestures as he leaves, and the boy who was knocked sprawling near the ship's bulwarks bows deeply and runs off. He looks like one of those freckled kids always showing up in American commercials.

"Ugh...so it's all about money."

"Does it pain your conscience or sense of justice? But at least we now know that he's a man who can be bought."

"Yeah, and a jerk who hits children. Geez, now I'm all in a contemplative mood."

"Contemplative?"

"Yeah. When I'm over here I keep wondering—why, of all things, am I the Maou?"

An ordinary high school student sent flying over to another world, sallying forth on a grand adventure—a hero or wizard or prince would be the first thing that came to anyone's mind. But I've been stuck with the job of 'Demon King,' and the weapon I'm questing for is a 'demon sword.'

I lean back against the wooden bulwarks, enjoying the mild ocean breeze. The red bangs caressing my forehead feel like they belong to someone else.

"I kept thinking—I'm so unlucky, what a disaster. But I feel like I finally understand how wrong I was. I mean, there are so many more, well—"

"Unfortunate people in the world?"

Conrad leans forward, crossing his arms, playacting at an end. "Yuuri. You think that child was unfortunate, then."

"But in Japan he would probably have been a junior high first-year student, or maybe even an elementary school kid in the middle of a growth spurt! Children shouldn't be used for labor—even the United Nations and UNICEF say so! And he gets beaten for making mistakes, too—aren't there any conventions on the rights of children?"

"...Even so."

He pulls me up by the hand, and we head back towards the cabins.

"Is it not a little one-sided of you to assume he is unfortunate?"

"Maaaybe..."

There's a happy smell wafting on the air: a scent of fresh-made bread, butter melting in a frying pan, and sizzling bacon.

"I'm actually more concerned about Hiscruyff."

The name brings to mind that eccentric greeting again. Aaah, I was so surprised. The world is a big place.

"He said he was from some city, right? Is it close to here?"

"Missinai is on the northern tip of Hildyard, but...that greeting is used by the upper crust of the Cavalcade nobility."

"It's...um...pretty unforgettable even if you want to forget it, huh?"

So all the elite members of society, instead of a 'how do you do,' glisten and flash at each other? What do all the young men who actually have hair do? They can't all be like Kouji Tomita, can they?!

"Wait, you mean that Calvacade?"

"Yes, that one. And that man was quite a master. He may have been playing the part of a doting father, but the hand that was holding his daughter's was covered with sword calluses."

"Sword calluses?! Woah, way to go, cactuses. Well, however good he is, he'd never be a sword master as awesome as you, Con...Kaku-san."

"Oh my, Young Master—sword master! Now you're making me blush."

Back to our roles. We're already at the entrance to the diner.

"Ah, but it's taken me eighty years to come just this far. Anyone would improve if they've been swinging a sword for that long. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I suppose?"

"Ah-hah, so you've devoted yourself to being a sword master for eighty years, huh? Like Yoshinoya!"

Aaah, now I want to have some of Yoshinoya's beef bowl.