My Beloved Princess ~The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess's Devotion~ - Chapter 124: The Opening of the Winter Special Training

Chapter 124: The Opening of the Winter Special Training

The city stood where several highways crossed.

It was a crossroads of distribution. Day and night, countless wagons rolled into town.

Dragonkin thronged the main avenue, filling it with life. The names embroidered at the shoulders of their dragon robes were all different, each belonging to a different pack. Naturally, that meant the designs of those robes lacked any uniformity, and garments of every conceivable style mingled together in the streets.

And there were other races here as well. Merchants and travelers dressed in western clothing, and even sturdy adventurers wearing light armor.

The people varied in age and occupation alike, giving the city a lively, multinational feel. That would have been an ordinary sight in a human city, but in a dragonkin city, where isolation was the norm, it was extremely rare.

When Kishō first stepped off the airship and onto the soil of Ashitana, his immediate impression was that the atmosphere of the city felt similar to Algant.

They had landed in a plaza on the outskirts, set on slightly elevated ground. From there, the city spread out below in western-style stone architecture. It looked as though the buildings were made from stone from Verz, giving the entire city a unified look of solid, weighty white. Faintly luminous moss had been packed into the gaps between the meticulously laid bricks, and apparently, once night fell, that firefly-colored glow transformed the city into something fantastical.

The wind sweeping over the plains carried a bitter chill.

It must have been cold. The westerners on the street all seemed to be walking a little faster than usual.

“You are to obey Onee-sama’s orders absolutely.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

One alley off the main road, beyond a maze of twisting side streets, stood an old cheap inn. Quietly tucked into a damp back alley was a cracked, weathered building, its signboard hanging askew. Beneath that crooked sign, two girls who looked utterly out of place in such surroundings were talking.

The taller one was lecturing the busty girl about something.

“Onee-sama is supreme. Take it to heart that every word Onee-sama speaks is divine revelation granted by the gods.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The pair gave the impression of master and servant.

The submissive girl on the servant side, nodding obediently, was Tsukino.

And the one on the master’s side, arms crossed as she gave a grandiose nod at that obedience, was Kōran.

“That’s right. As long as Onee-sama is here, everything will work out. We don’t need to think about anything. We need only entrust ourselves completely and devote our very bodies to her. Ah, Onee-sama. Onee-sama!”

“Yes, ma’am?”

Kōran cast her ardent gaze up toward the narrow strip of sky above the alley.

Wearing an enraptured expression, she spread her arms wide as though addressing all the people of the world and made her declaration.

Her fervent speech was so full of the girl’s personal desires that it was no longer entirely clear what she was even trying to say. Tsukino listened, head tilted in confusion, to the sermon overflowing with earthly desires.

“First, Onee-sama. Second, Onee-sama. Third and fourth are also Onee-sama, and everything is Onee-sama!”

“Kuroyō-sama is a wonderful person. But Master is wonderful too, Kōran-sama.”

“No. No matter what else there is, Onee-sama comes first. That man is just a bonus.”

“But Tsukino swore loyalty to Master.”

“That’s where you’ve got it wrong to begin with. Listen carefully. Onee-sama is a being equal to the gods. That man, by contrast, is a pitiful ordinary mortal. He can’t compare. I’ll admit he has some promise, though.”

“Tsukino is wrong?”

“Yes, you’re wrong. But mistakes can be corrected. Now then, repeat after me. Onee-sama! Onee-sama! Onee-sama! My beloved Onee-samaaa!!!”

Using all the tactics of a shady religious recruiter, Kōran was trying to indoctrinate Tsukino into the creed of Onee-sama supremacy. Just as Tsukino’s confusion was beginning to deepen in earnest, Kishō called out to them.

“Cut it out with the Zajonc effect brainwashing.”

Kōran turned with clear displeasure, while Tsukino’s face lit up at once.

Faced with those perfectly opposite reactions, Kishō scratched his head in exasperation. Tsukino came bounding over to him and bowed with a radiant smile.

“Welcome back, Master.”

“Yeah, I’m back.”

The relief on her face was utterly genuine. That expression was proof of the trust she placed in Kishō.

Under that warmth-filled gaze, he suddenly remembered the image of a girl studying with all her might because she wanted to be useful.

He could never forget the moved expression on Tsukino’s face when Princess-sama acknowledged her as “a comrade.” Holding back great tears, she had voiced her determination. She said she would study hard, that she would do her best to be useful. Furiously taking notes all the while, she had said exactly that.

A pack’s comrades were family, friends, and colleagues all at once.

The weight contained in the word comrade.

At the time, Kishō hadn’t fully understood that weight. Having been born and raised in human society, it had been a difficult concept for him to grasp.

But after hearing his mother’s old stories…

He came to understand his mother’s way of thinking, and the stance she took of valuing comrades above all else. Comrades were precious. They were to be protected absolutely. If someone harmed a comrade, that would never be forgiven. They protected one another and lavished care upon each other. That was how the dragonkin treated their comrades.

Even if the person in question had been the enemy who killed one’s husband, once they were recognized as a comrade, that rule applied equally. That was how much weight the word comrade carried.

And those who could not be called comrades were separated out and called slaves.

They were not treated as people. They were used like disposable consumables, as living shields on the battlefield. They rose early to attend to the mercenaries, then headed straight to the battlefield. When they returned, they had no time to rest before tending to the mercenaries again. Even worn to exhaustion, they could not complain, and each day was simply a struggle to survive.

Like grass trampled underfoot at the roadside. Like nameless weeds, slaves were forced to endure one hardship after another. Between comrade and slave stood an absolute wall, and that towering wall, high enough to seem to reach the sun, was the symbol of a despair that could never be overcome.

Looking up at its summit was no different from looking up at the sky.

No matter how dearly they wished for it, slaves were not permitted to join that circle.

And so…

How overwhelming must the joy of being recognized as a comrade have been?

Powerful enough to shatter the old world.

The kind of feeling that wouldn’t let you sit still.

To be useful.

Burned by the impulse welling up from the bottom of her heart, Tsukino had first set about doing what she could. That was studying, and taking care of Kishō in his daily life.

As he looked at Tsukino’s innocent upturned face, it suddenly overlapped in his mind with the face of a girl named Koharu from his mother’s old tale. A slave girl whom his mother and the Dragon Emperor had tried and failed to save. Had that tragic ending and Tsukino’s circumstances become one in his mind?

“You’ve done well to keep going on your own all this time.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

Before he knew it, he was gently stroking Tsukino’s head. Affection welled up inside him, and he silently resolved to protect this fragile girl.

In that old story, his mother had said it: if one could not cherish and love someone, then they could not be called a comrade. Was this what that feeling was?

At the sensation of his hand stroking her head, Tsukino curled up with a little catlike nyaf.

Watching her narrow her eyes with a ticklish look, Kishō noticed something.

“You cut your bangs.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

If she didn’t keep her vision hidden behind her bangs, then she would end up seeing even the things she didn’t want to see.

That was the girl who had refused to cut them. For a long time, she had endured those hellish days of not being treated as human by closing off her eyes and ears.

The voices around her that looked down on slaves and mocked them. To protect her heart from that painful reality, Tsukino had narrowed her own world. By limiting what she could see, she had pushed even the abuse that should have reached her outside her awareness. And so she endured. The curtain of bangs that fell when she lowered her head was a defensive wall that cut her off from the space around her.

But now, that defensive wall had been removed completely.

Below her neatly trimmed bangs, her violet eyes were clearly visible. Her shapely brows bent in a troubled line, and with her cheeks faintly flushed, she looked a little embarrassed.

She had let go of her only means of self-defense.

How much courage must that have taken?

“Tsukino…”

That was all he could manage.

Right in front of him, Tsukino clenched both hands and struck a small fighting pose. Her neatly trimmed bangs swayed as she pushed herself forward, ample chest and all.

“I’m all right now. Tsukino realized she can’t just keep being protected all the time. Tsukino decided she’ll properly look at the things she doesn’t want to see, and face them, and fight.”

She voiced that resolve while shooting a quick glance toward Kōran, who still hadn’t moved from beneath the inn’s eaves.

From that look alone, Kishō understood who had changed her.

“I see. So Kōran really did look after you properly.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Tsukino answered with boundless energy and smiled shyly.

Kōran had changed Tsukino. She must have soothed the wounds in Tsukino’s heart and guided her forward, teaching her how to face hardships head-on. That should have been the master’s duty. It had been Kishō’s problem to solve.

He was wondering how best to thank her when Tsukino produced a thick book from her sleeve. Puffing out her chest, she held it up proudly.

“A sacred text for saving lost lambs. I was given the Onee-sama handbook!”

“That doesn’t sound all right at all!?”

The existence of such a suspicious religious text made Kishō sag on the spot.

Meanwhile, Tsukino flipped through its pages and spoke with smug confidence.

“This handbook teaches that if Onee-sama is in charge, everything will be okay. It says Tsukino doesn’t need to worry over this or that, and that she should believe in Kuroyō-sama!”

“That… kind of makes weirdly good sense, actually…”

Trust in Princess-sama. Much as he hated to admit it, Kishō’s own faith in her was so great that it could rival even a fanatical believer in Onee-sama supremacy. Maybe that was why the idea struck him as oddly convincing.

If it eased Tsukino’s heart, then he almost felt she should rely on it to her heart’s content.

“But, Tsukino, there’s one thing wrong with what you just said.”

“? Tsukino got it wrong?”

“Yeah, you did. Don’t just rely on Kuroyō. Rely on me too. After all, I’m your Master.”

He declared that while jabbing a thumb at his own chest.

Princess-sama was a flawless super-heroine, blessed with beauty and talent alike. But even she was still a person. She worried, and she had limits. Worse, because she was so bad at putting things into words, she was the type to shoulder everything alone. That was exactly why Kishō had to stay by her side and support her.

“That’s the proper way to be, both as the master of a pack and as a husband.”

“Yes, ma’am! Tsukino will rely on Master too!”

She must have been overjoyed, because Tsukino started hopping up and down. After patting her head once more, Kishō turned back to Kōran.

“Yo. You’re as sharp-edged as ever.”

“Where is Onee-sama?”

Kōran’s reaction to his casual tone was icy.

“Kuroyō said she’ll do a little more investigating before heading back.”

“So you came back alone?”

The accusing tone and sharp gaze stabbed straight at him.

Kishō brushed aside that challenging glare, one that might once have put him off, and answered the girl standing there with her arms folded in displeasure.

“Yeah. I need to tell everyone what the plan is from here on. That’s my role.”

That was what he and Princess-sama had decided together.

That this was the best way forward.

“Right person, right place. Division of roles.”

Since standing around talking wasn’t ideal, he ushered the two of them into the cheap inn.

The lobby was dim.

On the counter sat a guest ledger, a quill pen, and a copper call bell. There was also a potted plant and a single candle, its orange flame wavering as it lit the tabletop.

Moss had been packed into the cracks of the stone walls, and the phosphorescent glow it gave off bathed the entire lobby in a dim light.

The innkeeper minding the place with a surly expression was a bearded middle-aged man. A human.

Once he had checked the two of them in, Kishō dropped heavily into an armchair in front of the fireplace. Across the table from him sat Kōran and Tsukino.

Under their expectant gazes, Kishō cleared his throat once.

“Well, anyway. Normally this sort of role would be Kuroyō’s job, but she’s out handling other business right now. So I’ll be the one taking charge here.”

◇◇◇◇◇

The dragonkin nation lay in the eastern part of the continent.

At the center of that territory stood Ashitana, a neutral city.

It belonged to no one’s territory and accepted interference from no power. An inviolable city governed by its own laws. That was the neutral city of Ashitana.

There were nine such neutral cities scattered throughout the country, each serving as a key point connecting one city to another.

Ashitana was one of them, but why were there as many as nine neutral cities to begin with? The answer was that they existed to secure places for free trade in every region.

“A neutral city is basically a giant marketplace. Dragonkin gather here from all over the country and hold a massive fair.”

They didn’t want outsiders invited into their own territory.

That was a mindset shared by all dragonkin, and because of that strong territorial instinct, their cities had become effectively isolationist. But if they cut themselves off from the outside world completely, the economy would grind to a halt.

The concept of the neutral city was born from that dilemma.

Races with wings growing from their backs were called winged folk.

Among those winged folk, the dragonkin regarded those who possessed dragon wings as distant kin, as ones mixed with dragon blood, and respectfully welcomed them into their nation.

The purpose was to entrust them with the management and operation of the neutral cities. By making the winged folk, rather than the dragonkin, the ones in charge, the city was freed from the curse of territoriality.

It was a new wind blowing through the stagnant world of dragonkin society.

You could call it a groundbreaking innovation.

The role of a neutral city was solely to provide a place for free trade, which meant this land belonged to no one, and private ownership was forbidden. The winged folk merely managed and operated the city; it was not their property. The same was true for the dragonkin as well.

This place was like an oasis in the desert. Anyone who tried to monopolize it for personal gain would find themselves making enemies of all dragonkind.

But if long-term stays were permitted, then given the dragonkin temperament, territorial instincts would naturally start taking root. That would only breed trouble, and it was a problem that needed to be prevented beforehand.

“The solution is that lodging fees shoot up starting on the eighth day of your stay.”

If the inn was expensive, people couldn’t afford to linger.

And if they still insisted on staying long-term, then at least they’d be pouring large sums of money into Ashitana. That was the neutral city’s stance.

In fact, even a run-down inn like this one, buried deep in the backstreets, supposedly became as expensive as a luxury inn in Algant from the eighth day onward.

“Survive in this high-cost city for one month. That’s the full extent of the winter special training.”

The winter special training was held with every school year present together, from both Upper and Lower Houses.

All nine hundred students had been given starting funds, and they were by no means small. The academy’s message was simple: manage that money wisely and survive this urban survival exercise.

However, no matter how much they tried to save, the funds wouldn’t last two weeks. Even using this cheap inn as the standard, the money would run out in about twelve days. In other words, the correct answer to the assignment was to use those funds as startup capital, run some sort of business, and survive the remaining days on the profit earned.

“The difficulty is extraordinarily high. The survival rate is apparently under ten percent. If you tackle it normally, clearing it is basically impossible. That’s the sort of difficulty they’ve set.”

And if they dropped out, Kishō and the others would lose the right to remain in the neutral city.

They would likely be forcibly sent back to the academy.

“Also, sleeping rough inside the city is forbidden. Apparently that’s Ashitana law. And in principle, camping outside the city is also forbidden. The winter special training is supposed to be an urban survival exercise, after all.”

On top of that, they’d received reports that many bandits appeared outside the city. Either way, spending the night beyond the city walls was dangerous.

“In other words, we have to keep paying those high lodging fees if we want to stay here.”

And then? Tilting her head, Kōran prompted him to continue.

She had already been briefed beforehand on the winter special training, so she knew all this. What she wanted to hear was what came next.

“I’ll be blunt. Kuroyō can’t participate in this survival exercise.”

“Hah!? Why not!?”

Slamming the table, Kōran leapt to her feet in outrage.

Kishō looked calmly up at the furious warrior and said:

“Your sister is strong and proud. And she cares deeply about her comrades.”

“…”

At the greatest library in the country, Princess-sama was still researching even now. Desperately trying to save Ōka, she was reading through a dizzying amount of material.

There was an overwhelming difference between Kishō, who wasn’t used to reading books, and Princess-sama, who could read at speed, in how long it took them to finish a single volume. That role was one only Princess-sama could fulfill. Kishō couldn’t take her place. Working beside her today had made him realize that.

So the things Kishō could do were these: support Princess-sama so she could devote herself fully to her work without worries, and keep the pack from losing its way in her absence. Those were his immediate goals.

Of course, Kishō intended to investigate the Curse of Sixteen in his own way as well, but to do that, he needed everyone’s help.

“I was born and raised in a human city. It was just my mother and me, a single-parent household. So I didn’t know much about dragonkin culture. The idea of pack comrades that everyone talked about didn’t really mean anything to me. But through life at the academy, I’ve started to understand it little by little. It’s not romance, and it’s not quite the same as friendship either. It’s more like… being connected somewhere deeper. If you close your eyes and picture it, you’ll understand. A strong feeling wells up from inside. You want to protect them. You feel that fiercely. That’s what being comrades means.”

He wanted to save Ōka.

That powerful impulse was still driving Kishō even now.

Or maybe that feeling had been there from the beginning. Maybe he’d simply never been conscious of it, while his instincts had long since arrived at the answer. Wasn’t it because he had already recognized Ōka as a comrade that he had feared for her being hurt in the Beast King Forest?

Ever since those days when the two of them lived together in that ramshackle shack, perhaps Kishō had already…

“We’re comrades. Kuroyō intends for this group to keep living together even after graduation, and I intend the same. The winter special training is like a rehearsal for that, which is why we have to take it seriously. Once we graduate and head out into the wilds, there won’t be any time to hesitate. No matter what hardships await us, we’ll have to provide for our comrades.”

He clenched his fist, then opened it. The air burst with a sharp crack in response to that fighting spirit.

“But we can’t abandon a comrade just because life has to go on. That would be putting the cart before the horse. We maintain our lives while protecting our comrades too. I believe that’s my duty. Kuroyō has Kuroyō’s role to play. There are things only someone as capable as she is can do. And I’m here to fulfill my own role.”

The things he had to protect. Once he truly felt the weight of that, something welled up from every part of his body. It overflowed and wouldn’t stop. He could feel the explosive pulsation of [Ki].

“Going without Kuroyō is a huge handicap, but even so, we have to see this through.”

Kishō bowed his head.

“Please. To save our precious comrade, lend me your strength.”

Author’s Note:

This work, My Beloved Princess: The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess’s Devotion, went on sale from Dengeki Bunko on Friday, January 9.

The book edition contains major revisions in the middle portion, so it develops differently from the web version. There are also newly appearing characters, so I think even readers who have already read the web version will still be able to enjoy it.

You can also read a sample on the work introduction page on Dengeki Bunko’s website, so if you’re interested, please check it out.