MaruMA:Volume05:Chapter4

Chapter 4

Given the breathtaking beauty that lay exposed before them, no one dared to speak.

Face white as wax; bloodless rose-colored lips. Eyelids adorned with long lashes concealing eyes filled with worry.

Truly this figure with its hands clasped over its chest looked like Sleeping Beauty, yet Lord von Christ Günter was definitely a handsome man.

Even in the farthest corners of the world, one would never find such a perfect near-corpse a second time. Yet he did have one critical flaw.

"Unfortunately, he's not dead. So, I cannot cut his body open to take a peek inside."

Everyone present shivered thinking 'how could you say that!?' as they heard those words. As expected of one of Shin Makoku's Three Nightmares, no one could hold a candle to her when it came to spreading fear.

Lady von Karbelnikoff Anissina propped her hands on her hips and said self-importantly, "But at least this way I can prevent the poison from spreading further in his body. We can not rely on the suspended animation that Günter himself brought about. But do not worry, with my knowledge and abilities, a matter of this level will be resolved in no time."

She can even deal with poisons from another country because she is the Mad Magicalist, Anissina, whose priorities are 1: Experiment, 2: Experiment, 3&4: Unknown, and 5: Experiment. Günter had been laid in an ice coffin and he was surrounded with powdery snow. The whole thing was reminiscent of the fish counter in a supermarket.

"What do you think? Is he not a real work of art, this Snow Günter?"

"Sn-snow Günter....."

He looks like he'll run around wailing with his cold breath to the ends of the earth if His Majesty were to ever cheat on him.

"Was it really necessary for him to be completely naked?" Gwendal asked.

"It was all a question of aesthetics. If he is naked, he looks more like a specimen than if he had clothes on while he was sleeping. As you can see, I'm respecting the style."

"Specimen..."

"What are you so hung up on? I have already taken care of the area that always gives you men reason to be ashamed and worried. Like this," Anissina pointed her finger at a small mound of snow. She speaks as if she would have liked to decorate the top of it with a fig leaf. "It is properly hidden, is it not? Gwendal, what are you doing?"

Without realizing he was doing it, Lord von Voltaire had formed a rabbit out of the snow and had been about to reach out his hand to place it on Günter's groin region. This was less as an act of friendship and more a chivalrous gesture of sympathy.

Although her clothes were impeccable, her fiery red hair was undone and flowed elegantly over her shoulders and down her back. Even her stride, which would be hard to call lady-like, was a bit subdued this day. No wonder. She had been told to do something immediately about a man in suspended animation that was foisted upon her after she had been pulled out of the deep sleep she was in following an experiment. After that, she had continued her work for an entire day without sleep or breaks and that brings us to the current situation.

The measures Anissina had undertaken so far included the following: the application of a synthetic antivenin (result: ineffective), stomach pumping (result: catastrophic), and a de-worming treatment (result: unknown). Whatever had caused the poison to stop spreading could not be determined with certainty, but the contents of Günter's stomach had brought a few interesting facts to light.

Lord von Christ's last supper had been a shrimp dish. According to the analysis, he had even eaten the hard tails. It seems he was lazy when he was out of view of others.

The result of all this research was that there was finally evidence at hand indicating what sort of poison they were dealing with and how the detoxification should proceed.

Anissina had a pale look of exhaustion on her face that was unusual for her, but her intelligent, light blue eyes shone with curiosity and dedication to her work. In moments like these she was so beautiful it was shocking, but not a single one of the cowardly men made even an attempt to approach her.

"We appear to be dealing with the Wincott Poison."

"Wincott Poison?"

After reflexively repeating her words, Gwendal uncomfortably clears his throat. However, Anissina never considered her childhood friend to be knowledgeable so there was no reason for him to try and smooth over that mistake.

"I have no intention to mend your lack of common knowledge, but as someone who has prepared himself to stand in your social position, you should at least read 'The Handbook of Murder by Poison.' If you do, then no matter when and where it might be when someone takes aim at your life, you will not lose your composure when it comes to poisons."

"You've read something called 'The Handbook of Murder by Poison?'"

"Of course! It contains information about poisons ancient and modern from all areas of the world as well as their symptoms, the people who were killed by them, and the relevant circumstances recorded down to the finest detail. Even just for casual reading, it has high entertainment value."

Anissina ran her fingers lovingly over the cover of a thick violet book on the table.

"Sometimes I decide to read a little before I go to bed, but before I know it, it is already morning."

For those with normal nerves, that book would scare them so much they'd be unable to sleep.

"The Wincott poison is entry number 257... here it is. In earlier times, it was used not only by mazoku, but also by the ruling families among the humans. Especially famous are the cases of the Evil Princess of Godlan and the Pirate King of Kisilis. However, the refining process is fundamentally difficult so for the last 300 years, it has only been found in the place where it was originally created."

"Is there any relation to our Lord von Wincott?"

"I would think so."

"Impossible." Lord von Voltaire's ill-tempered blue eyes sparked ice cold with fury. "The Wincott family sent an assassin-"

"No. Listen carefully when someone is talking to you. What I said was that it only exists in the place where it was originally created. After the Wincott family drifted to this region, they renounced their murderous ways. Even though they'd been betrayed by their own country and citizens and had their lands and fortune stolen from them. They never felt resentment towards those ungrateful humans even once."

"... We have all experienced something similar."

"That is probably true."

Effortlessly, Anissina lifted the heavy book with one hand and sat on the rim of the coffin. Perhaps the reason her crossed legs trembled a little was because she was irritated.

"That is the reason I want to get back as much as we can. All those powers we possessed before we were ever called mazoku."

She roughly brushed back the hair that had fallen across her face.

"All the knowledge and the technologies we left behind and forgot... The original homeland of the Wincott’s belongs to Shimaron now. In other words, it would be right to think that that country arranged this attack."

"Yes, no doubt about it."

"You can rest assured in leaving Günter's cure to me." Anissina poked the chest of her childhood friend and smiled as he faltered. "Gwen, speak with Wolfram. The way I judge his condition now, I would not put it past him to take off for Shimaron by himself. All his blood shoots straight to his head when it comes to His Majesty."

"You should also get some res-"

"When I have my hands on this once-in-a-lifetime test subject?! No wonder you never make any intellectual progress. How foolish it would be to let something like sleep waste this chance to satisfy my intellectual curiosity!"

---

For the rest of the afternoon, I just carried loads at the dock without thinking.

The season and the area are both different so it's not hot enough for my thoughts to get hazy, but mindlessly abusing my body like this makes me hallucinate that I'm doing laps on the field in mid-summer.

And not even my sixteenth summer, but the one from my third year of middle school when I was still on the school baseball team. I hadn't been thrown off the team for punching the coach and I was sharing the enthusiasm for my last baseball season of middle school with the underclassmen. We lost in the semi-finals of the state championship in a close game and even though I was only a pinch hitter, I cried in frustration and told the second year rep to win next year with a slap on the shoulder.

But that summer was all a dream.

In reality, I had left the team before vacation and spent the summer lazing around in the air-conditioning.

After that I just took my exams like everyone else and entered high school like everyone else and intentionally turned my back on the baseball club's practice and pretended not to see it. I was miserable with regret.

If I'd only held my anger in check back then, I'd probably be a rookie player on the high school baseball team now. If I'd stayed behind for practice until it got dark since before spring, maybe I would never have been flushed away to this world from the park in the first place?

Then I wouldn't have to deal with the fear of losing my friends or fighting or the unease of being in a foreign country without any aid.

"... Shibuya!"

"Huh? Mmm, uh, what?"

"They're saying we have to get in line. Otherwise we won't ever get paid."

As I came back to myself, I realized the temperature had fallen and the waves were swaying as the sunset reflected off of them. The sea was doused with orange light; the heavens glowed purple.

We took the money we were due from the work we'd accomplished and secured ourselves some new clothing from a shop that was just about to close. We also bought undershirts and jackets so we'd be prepared for the sudden cold that could come after sundown.

The harbor workers were freed from their identical work uniforms. Some carried groceries home, others streamed into the same cafeteria from lunch. It probably changed into a bar in the evenings and the ladies that worked there underwent a similar change.

Turning our backs to the harbor, Murata and I set off down a street paved with large stones.

Houses with faded yellow paint were lined up one after the other to either side of us. In front of the entryways, skinny kids and dogs sat on stone steps.

There wasn't much difference between the color or their hair and eyes, but to my relief, they did give the impression of being healthy.

"Excuse me, where can we find the Japanese consulate?" Murata asked the residents over and over, but no one could answer him. The correct answer is: There is no place called Japan in this world. Wondering just when I would broach the subject, I watched over him in a despondent mood.

"This way!" Someone probably told him some random information to appease him because my friend happily points down a side road. "I had been suspicious, but there really doesn't seem to be a Japanese consulate here. That makes sense because we're in a small country that I've never seen on a map before so I can see why there aren't any Japanese expats here. So, we'll just have to look for protection from another country like America, England, Germany or whatever."

"Protection, huh?"

"What's up with that dejected and hopeless face?"

"Hey, Murata."

"Hmm?"

"They might not understand what you're talking about there either so don't take it too hard if we don't accomplish anything at all in the end."

The boy with glasses that was in the same class as me in second and third year in middle school sighed through his nose in exasperation.

"That's coming from you? You're the one that's been moping around. Even if they're not kind to us, they'll at least contact a Japanese official for us. And if they refuse, we'll do it ourselves. Not letting us borrow their telephone would be an international blunder."

"They might not have a telephone."

It's 100% certain they do not have a telephone.

"Then we'll just send a telegram. And if not, we'll have them send a letter. We can just keep working at the harbor until somebody picks us up. By the end of summer vacation, our muscles will have turned to steel and everybody will mistake us for models. Then we'll publish books about getting set adrift at sea and turn into stars overnight! And we'll be popular with all the girls in their teens and twenties and I'll have them all for myself!"

"All for yourself!?"

We went left down the side road that someone had told us about as a joke and the kids and dogs gradually disappeared. The sky had become fully dark and the warm evening sea breeze wasn't blowing on us any more. All around us, there were only meadows and fields without an obstacle in sight.

For lighting, we had only half of a moon and it lit the straight path, upon which wagon wheels had left their mark.

"Hey, there was a light back there just now," I exclaimed.

"Really?"

In the distance, countless small lights flickered.

I thought it was a bunch of windows in some buildings, but as we got closer, I saw the outline of a European style building. Judging from the size, it was somewhere between a manor house and a castle. The reason the light was flickering was because there were also guards and gatekeepers carrying torches.

For someone from modern Japan, this sight was more reassuring than a million dollar skyline at night.

"When you find a Western-style mansion after being shipwrecked, usually there were some horrific murders that took place there in the past, right? And when the main characters take shelter there for one night, it's guaranteed that the incident will happen again... Well, that's a plot device for a visual novel, but in reality it doesn't..."

While saying this in a way that I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, Murata goes to stick his hands in his pockets, but then he notices that his current clothes are different than his normal ones and there isn't any extra cloth being used to make a pocket.

"... ever happen."

"Murata, you've played too much Kamaitachi no Yoru."

"I just thought the same thing."

As we reached the outside of the fence, the building turned out to be larger than expected.

Running full out from the gate that looked like it had the family crest upon it, it would take thirty seconds to reach the front entrance. In other words, it's longer than a lap around a 400 meter track.

Right after I'd absentmindedly taken hold of the iron bars with a strange design with both hands, a guard with an arrogant face seized me by the wrist.

"Hey you!"

"Yes?"

"What do you want with our feudal lord?"

"We've been told this is where the consulate is," Murata immediately answered, keeping a low profile, even though the soldier wanted an answer out of me. "We're Japanese, but unfortunately we've been shipwrecked and set adrift. We washed on shore at the harbor of Gilbit. We just wanted to ask whether the consul could help us get back home again..."

"Consul? What's that? This is the estate of Norman Gilbit, feudal lord of Gilbit, autonomous region of Caloria, territory of Shou Shimaron."

"Ah, he’s that important hikikomori, right? We don't mind if we can just speak with an employee who handles regular office work. Can we come in and speak?"

"Sir Norman doesn't receive any guests, especially not commoners like you two."

The light from the torches fell on the young soldier's face on which no real facial hair was yet growing. He was a little taller than we were, but much lankier than the old musclemen we'd worked with all day.

Apparently the young people whose absence had been lamented by the harbor workers were serving in the military even in places like this.

"The feudal lord doesn't meet with anyone. Get out of here before we throw you out!"

"But I already said we'd be happy to speak with just a staff member!"

"Murata!"

The time to tell him the truth had come. I tugged him away a few steps by the arm to get out of the light of the guard's torch. Now, where should I start? Should I just say it plain and simple?

"I haven't said anything until now, but we’re in another world!"

"... Even more so than Antonin Dvorak's New World Symphony, it seems."

Answering me with a super fancy joke isn't helping.

I had problems finding the right words in my limited vocabulary and end up stomping my feet in the grass. The blue stone that was always with me taps me lightly on the chest every time. It was as if it was consoling me.

"Huh?"

The gaze of one of the guards who had been doing his rounds inside the fence fixed on my magic stone. Shoot! To tell him that I wasn't giving it to him, I grabbed the magic stone in my hand to hide it. This guard, who looked a little older than the gate guard, gestured to us.

"You two, yeah, come over here a moment, yeah."

Being spoken to in the local dialect eased my fears a bit. He stuck his hand through the iron bars and after asking me for permission, balanced the stone on the palm of his hand.

"I'm not going to take it away from you so let me see it, yeah. Where did you get this, huh? The metalwork here on the setting, yeah, it looks really similar to a very important coat of arms, yeah."

"This is-"

"That's a treasure that belongs to his family!" Murata suddenly starts lying. "It's a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation. It's always inherited by the eldest son."

Then my older brother would have gotten it. I only got this as a sort of protective charm and its previous owner was Conrad's former lover, Susanna Julia von Wincott who was a popular woman-

"Then you're a descendant of the Wincott family, hm?!"

Who would have thought I'd come across Miss Julia's family name here in a foreign country? Not only was I not a descendant, as far as I could recall, I'd only been introduced to the head of the Wincott family once. I think he was supposed to have been Julia's older brother, but I couldn't get a good look at his face because he had only been looking down at the floor. It was to be expected, though, because at that time I was standing on a stage as the brand new Maou. Almost all of the nobles had knelt and bowed their heads.

The guard's expression paled and he opened the gate and pulled Murata and me onto the estate.

"Oh man, you really are a descendant of the Wincotts, yeah! P-p-please excuse the impolite treatment earlier, yea- err... yes."

He might have thought it rude to walk in front of us so the guard took a step backwards and followed us with his body half bowed. The way he nonchalantly indicated which way we should go with his right hand reminds me of a hostess at a ryokan.

"Shibuya, where'd you get your hands on such a valuable thing? When we get back, we need to go on Kanteidan! We can meet Shinsuke in person! In person!"

He pokes my shoulder incessantly as he laughs in a low voice. Does he want to meet Shinsuke Shimada that bad?

"Listen up, Murata: we're not visiting a consul, we're visiting a feudal lord so there is no guarantee that he'll help us get back home."

"I know that, of course. But hey, that guy thinks you are related to these Win... what was it? The Winsans? It sounds like they're some famous old family, right? They've kindly misunderstood for us so let's just play this descendant thing all the way through! They might give us an amazingly fancy reception!"

A Japanese person wouldn't really imagine the exact opposite happening.

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