My Beloved Princess ~The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess's Devotion~ - Chapter 112: Flight

Chapter 112: Flight

The Dragon Emperor’s palace stood at the centre of the city.

Spreading out around it, as though encircling it, was a cityscape of black roofs.

Black Emperor Castle, where a hundred thousand packmates lived. It was the utopia Kokuren had spent two hundred years building. There were no slaves here, and no room for girls to be born into miserable circumstances. Just as Koharu had wished, he had aimed to build a city that could save lost lambs, and at last that dream had been realised.

He walked side by side with Rakuyō along the main avenue, where the peace of his packmates flowed around them.

He had shed his white sleeping robes and donned dragon robes embroidered with magnificent dragons, garments so full of dignity they looked enough to make one’s shoulders ache.

The people they passed gave way to their master, Kokuren, and offered their respects, but they were never overly stiff about it. That was the rule in Black Emperor Castle, and “Don’t go around with your shoulders all tensed up” had always been one of his favourite sayings.

“Even so. You took a direct hit from the [core], and yet you survived.”

“That’s thanks to Kirin.”

When Kokuren glanced at the wife beside him, she turned her face away with a childish little huff.

Her profile was full of displeasure. Not that he could blame her. Ever since those days, Kirin had always been at Kokuren’s side, while Rakuyō, capable as she was, had been forced to settle for second place. That pent-up frustration was probably showing in her attitude.

Seeing that expression, almost daughterlike in its childishness, Kokuren gave a wry smile.

“Kirin’s attribute affinity is lightning. That powerful electromagnetic field distorts space, so not even the flames of the [core] can pass through it. If I hadn’t been with Kirin, I probably wouldn’t be standing here now.”

The damage from the battle to seize the royal capital had been immense, and the noble alliance had lost fully ninety percent of its fighting strength. They had no longer been in any condition to continue the war, so they had decided on an immediate withdrawal. That had brought the war to an end.

Even now, two hundred years later, the destructive power of the [core] still ranked at the very top among the weapons humanity had developed. Now that he had become a mature dragon, he might perhaps be able to stop it, but back when he was still a youngster, Kokuren had possessed no way to defend against that thing.

“To begin with, even if I’d had a way to block it, if you can’t detect the [core] activating, then defence means jack shit. You’re burned to ashes in an instant, and that’s that. Same for Kirin.”

Even if one saw the [core] activate with one’s own eyes and then tried to trigger a counter-formula, it would already be too late. Before the formula could even rise, the heat ray would incinerate everything.

The only reason Kirin had been able to block the [core]‘s flames was because she had sensed the disturbance in [Ki] at the royal castle, the sign that the [core] was about to go off, before anyone else. No matter how close she was to invincible, if she had been struck by the [core]‘s flames in a surprise attack, she should have been helpless.

What had separated life from death for the two of them had come down to a single point: whether they had sensed the [core]‘s activation beforehand.

Then what was an ordinary person without that ability supposed to do? Simple.

“Learn how it works. Whether it’s a cannon or a [core], once you know the mechanism, there are all sorts of countermeasures you can take. In the case of a [core], for instance, you can expose its presence by detecting the faint magic-element vibrations it gives off.”

“They do say ignorance is a sin.”

“Yeah, they do. The noble alliance lost because they didn’t understand the enemy’s weapons. When you get right down to it, that’s all there was to it.”

“That’s why you’ve even introduced siege-weapon experiments into the academy’s lessons.”

“Yeah. The noble alliance alone gave me more than enough fools getting caught in petty little traps.”

“Honestly. Do you have any idea how much that costs…? Though your recklessness is hardly anything new at this point. I suppose I’ll just give up and accept it.”

“Sorry for ignoring profitability. You always end up carrying the burden.”

Perhaps pleased by that word of appreciation, the sulky look vanished from Rakuyō’s face.

“Thinking about what might have happened if they’d used the [core] on the battlefield back then, before we knew anything about it… it gives me chills.”

“I think that was probably their original plan. But once a [core] activates even once, it can’t be moved anymore. Give it any vibration, and it goes boom right there on the spot.”

“So they must have accidentally set it into full activation while testing it or something.”

“Yeah. That’s why they couldn’t move it out of the royal capital. If they’d been able to use that thing any earlier, the whole tide of the war might’ve been overturned.”

Rakuyō, likely imagining the worst possible scene, shook her head and let out a long sigh. Then she gave a bitter smile and changed the subject.

“Your biggest selfish demand was the abolition of slavery, wasn’t it?”

“In the end, I never managed to wipe it out completely.”

Just then, a teahouse sign caught his eye.

He jerked his thumb toward it in invitation, but Rakuyō shook her head and declined.

Taking his arm, she gave a brief reply. “Let’s walk.”

Turning his steps back toward the crowd, Kokuren idly stroked his chin beard with his fingertips.

“Koharu wanted me to save the lost lambs. To grant her wish, I shifted the pack’s policy onto a path of expansion.”

“Yes. And under the slogan of abolishing slavery and freeing slaves, you declared war on the Thirteen Nobles and struck them down one after another.”

“Yeah. I made sure to kill that little moustached bastard with a grudge first.”

Defeating the Thirteen Nobles, already worn down by the Casteria War, had not been especially difficult.

He had cut down the Thirteen Nobles one after another, and with each one he had freed that many more slaves.

“And I took responsibility for sheltering every slave I freed. Right here in Black Emperor Castle.”

“You turned away no one who came.”

The money that supported them had come from the vast hoard of gold, silver, and other treasures he had made during his mercenary days. Using that as capital, he carried out trade and used the proceeds to fund the pack as it grew into a massive organisation.

“It was hard, you know. In all sorts of ways.”

“I know. That sudden population boom was a breeding ground for trouble, but dealing with all of it… Rakuyō, thanks to your ability, every last problem was handled without a hitch. You worked hard.”

“It wasn’t just me. It was because each of the Six Consorts happened to have practical abilities that fit together almost miraculously.”

“No need to be modest. Still, yes. Everyone worked hard for this.”

Things had not gone smoothly enough to call it effortless, but neither had they been turbulent enough to call it a life of constant upheaval.

Against outside enemies, he had played the strongest card of all, Black Kirin, while domestic administration had been handled through Rakuyō’s outstanding leadership and the practical support of the Six Consorts. Their coordination had been magnificent. The only reason they had achieved their present prosperity was thanks to their efforts.

“Not creating slaves in the first place was already an extremely bold policy. But even more shocking was your stance that even the daughters of your hated enemies should be accepted into the pack without discrimination. I truly am in awe of how large-hearted you are.”

“Children bear no responsibility. If I punished them, I wouldn’t be able to face Koharu in the next world. Koharu herself had fallen into slavery because of her parents’ sins.”

“That’s true. I never met her, but the reason that jealous woman didn’t oppose your policies must have been because of that girl, Koharu.”

“Yeah… I suppose so. I think she kept enduring it all that time.”

For a full hundred and fifty years.

Kirin had gone along with Kokuren’s selfishness.

When it came to defending Black Emperor Castle, no one could surpass Kirin in merit.

Dragonkin society was a world of rival powers contending with one another. And yet despite living in that chaotic age of warfare, Black Emperor Castle had remained untouched almost certainly because of her. Her achievements, and Kokuren’s gratitude toward her, were beyond what words could express.

Without Kirin’s accomplishments, Kokuren’s great ambition might have been shattered halfway to fulfilment.

And then, once the running of Black Emperor Castle had gotten on track and all that remained was to bask in glory, Kirin suddenly vanished.

“I guess she finally reached the limit of what she could endure.”

Before he knew it, he had reached the city gate, and the tightly shut gate blocked his path.

There, Kokuren stopped and happened to glance back over his shoulder.

Black tiled roofs and white walls. Beyond the orderly rows of streets, a magnificent palace towered into the sky. The royal castle of Casteria had stood at just about that same distance.

Suddenly, the scenery receded.

For an instant, he saw himself standing stock-still in the ruined royal capital.

But it was only an illusion. The street was full of bustle, and the wife pressed close beside him was peering suspiciously at the profile of the Kokuren who had stopped walking. Relief washed over him, and he looked up at the sky dyed red.

On that day, at that time, in that place.

The path Kokuren walked had changed greatly.

And yet he still did not know whether that decision had been the right one.

After all, he had lost another precious person.

“Was I truly able to choose the best path?”

◇◇◇◇◇

She could not say the promise had been broken.

It had been painful to watch the husband she loved crushed by the loss of Koharu, and Kirin herself had likely felt the same kind of outrage at the unreasonable cruelty inflicted on Koharu.

“Holding Koharu’s final words in his heart, that man embraced a great ambition. I did not want to deny him. I did not want to be that cold.”

She confessed feelings she had never revealed to anyone to the daughter of the husband she had once loved.

“But the larger the pack grew, the more the love my husband turned toward me was dispersed and diminished. I understand that it could not be helped. If one cannot cherish and love them, then they cannot be called packmates.”

But for Kirin, that had been unbearable pain.

Whenever she saw the husband she loved surrounded by hundreds and thousands of girls, her chest tightened, ached, and hurt so badly it felt ready to burst. How many times had she nearly screamed? A maddening love-hate, enough to drive one insane, had filled her heart and raged like a sea lashed by a storm.

“Why was I born carrying the ugly emotion called jealousy? No one understood that anguish of mine, one so alien for a dragonkin woman.”

The same had been true even for her best friend, Shunka.

Shunka could stay by her side and listen, but true understanding was beyond her.

The desire to monopolise a man was simply that alien a thing.

“I will not say I was lonely. Shunka did many things for my sake, and Kokuren too always took care not to let me feel alone. The new packmates who joined us were love rivals, yes, but they were also like adorable little sisters.”

That was why she could not hate her packmates. Nor could she throw cold water on Kokuren, who pressed onward with lofty ideals in his heart. Kirin could do nothing.

There was nowhere to vent her anger, and day after day only dissatisfaction piled up without end.

For a hundred and fifty years, she endured and endured.

But one day, at last, her limit came.

It was absurdly anticlimactic, like a taut thread snapping. Suddenly, she no longer cared about anything at all, and even the attachment she felt toward her husband had vanished.

Yet at the time, the running of Black Emperor Castle was still unstable, and they were in an adversarial relationship with the previous Dragon Emperor. They could never coexist with that emperor, who sought to expand the institution of slavery. If she left at that point, many people would die. Black Emperor Castle itself might have come to an end.

“That is why I decided to strike down the previous Dragon Emperor together with Kokuren, witness the completion of Black Emperor Castle, and only then set out on a journey.”

And on the night before her departure.

The only person she bid farewell to was her best friend, Shunka.

◇◇◇◇◇

Lights still burned in the Upper School building late at night.

It was different from the academy her father, Sendo, had run. This school building, constructed under strong western influence, looked almost like a fortress.

One especially lavish room there belonged to an old friend, the head who oversaw the academy.

“Are you really leaving, Princess-sama?”

“Shunka. I am no longer a princess. You should call me Head Consort-sama.”

“To me, Princess-sama will always be Princess-sama!”

“Really now, I don’t know what to do with you, Shunka.”

The one dressed in brilliant three-coloured dragon robes and adorned with dazzling finery was Shunka, once her maid. By contrast, Kirin wore plain mouse-grey dragon robes. At the sight of that shabby appearance, as though mistress and servant had somehow reversed places, Shunka’s eyes widened, but she seemed to understand at once.

“Then I’ll come with you too.”

“No.”

“Why not!? You said it before, didn’t you? That when you travelled the world, you’d take me with you too.”

Like a sulking child, Shunka shook her head from side to side.

Kirin smiled softly, took her hand, and gently reasoned with her.

“I said that back then because you had no place to belong, Shunka. But that’s not true anymore. You have a duty to run the academy now, don’t you?”

“If you’re going to say that, then Princess-sama has a duty as the Head Consort too.”

She refused to yield. Pursing her lips, Shunka shot back at her.

She had not changed. Their sisterly arguments had always been like this.

And because they had known each other for so long, Kirin could tell Shunka was serious. Warmth spread through her chest. At the same time, loneliness welled up too, and to keep Shunka from noticing, she moved over to the window.

“If it’s work as the highest authority, Kokuren can do that too. But running the academy is something only Shunka can do.”

“Leaving absolutely everything to Kokuren-sama is too cruel, even for you.”

“I endured it for a hundred and fifty years. Please understand, Shunka.”

“But…”

Hearing the earnestness in Kirin’s voice, Shunka seemed to grasp her suffering and fell silent.

The conversation broke off, and silence fell.

Shunka was looking at her with a face on the verge of tears.

Feeling the resolve she had forged begin to waver, Kirin could not bear it and turned her eyes away. She lowered her gaze to the nighttime academy beyond the window and murmured,

“This brings back memories. You were diligent back then, Shunka.”

Shunka had little talent and, to put it kindly, could hardly be called gifted. Even so, being diligent, she had piled effort upon effort and clung to the Upper School’s lessons. Because she had been a slave, the only path open to her in life had been to fulfil her role as a maid. And yet now she had risen all the way to becoming one of the Dragon Emperor’s allied consorts and even the head who oversaw the academy.

The two of them had both grown older, and their apparent ages had now reached their mid-twenties.

It was different from those days. Both had become mature dragons, and their positions had changed as well.

At Kirin’s nostalgic words, Shunka recreated the smile she had worn back then while holding back the great tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. It was the innocent smile from their student days, when they had been able to live without thinking too hard about anything.

“Princess-sama was an utterly hopeless, textbook delinquent student.”

“You still say things so bluntly, Shunka.”

Had she been affected by Shunka’s emotion? The inner corners of Kirin’s eyes grew hot.

Scooping up that warmth with her fingertips, Kirin stared at her own reflection in the window.

“Those days feel like the distant past.”

“They are the distant past. It’s already been more than a hundred and fifty years.”

Every day had been boring.

Skipping class and spending her days lying around.

Shunka had always been beside her, fussing at her while still taking care of her.

But now, that too had become a fond memory. They felt like precious days.

“Shunka. This is farewell. Live well.”

“Is this really… really goodbye, Princess-sama?”

Great tears spilled from Shunka’s eyes.

One after another.

As Shunka wept and mourned their parting, Kirin gave her a quiet but unmistakable nod. Receiving that solemn assent, Shunka let out a breath with an expression of resignation. She shook her head, then faced Kirin properly and said with the utmost seriousness,

“Understood. If you insist no matter what, then I won’t stop you. But please promise me one thing, Princess-sama. If, on your travels, you meet a wonderful man, you might fall in love, right? And if that happens, then naturally there’ll be nighttime relations too. I can’t really imagine Princess-sama, who’s on the verge of enlightenment, doing something like that… but if that impossible thing does happen, then you’ll have a new family, right? So when that time comes, please introduce them to me.”

Without meaning to, Kirin gave a wry smile.

“Wouldn’t that be cruel to Kokuren?”

“I couldn’t care less! Kokuren-sama can cry for all I care!”

Shunka mimicked a certain someone’s tone as she declared that.

“I don’t know whether the child born would be a son or a daughter, but since it would be Princess-sama’s child, there’s a chance they’d possess the seventh attribute, right? Listen carefully, all right? Only a very small number of people know that secret, and if it ever came to light, it’d cause an enormous uproar. 

But it’ll be fine, so don’t worry. If it’s me, I can handle it smoothly in secret. After all, I’ve served as Princess-sama’s maid for many long years. That’s more than enough of a track record. Ah, right, and I’ve already thought of a way to tell. We can tamper with the great mirror used for attribute affinity examinations so that only I can tell. After that, I’ll take care of the rest somehow… so please…”

She rattled all that off in one breath, then choked from lack of air.

At such passion from her, Kirin gave a wry smile and drew close the Shunka who was spilling tears in torrents.

“Very well. If I do have a child someday and that child ends up attending the academy… then, when that time comes, Shunka, I will entrust their care to you.”

Gently stroking the head of the sobbing Shunka, Kirin tilted her face upward and spoke in a trembling voice.

“Really now. No matter how much time passes, you’re still such a spoiled girl, Shunka.”