I hate that about you, man. Not now, not ever.

　A breath tries to escape from his lips, but is pushed back by his tightly closed teeth.

　Once again, I half-crouch and hold my sword at my waist. With a single movement, you hope to knock the breath out of your opponent.

　After the stance, your shoulders stop their movement. His knees, arms, and even his entire body refused to move. It was no different for Bruder.

　It was as if time itself had stopped around us, and time was still for me and Bruder.

　Spit slid down my throat. Victory or defeat is only a matter of moments. If the sword and the long-handle are wielded here and now, my eyelids are convinced that it will be settled in the blink of an eye. A cold wind caresses my cheek.

　The heart beats loudly, once, without any change on the surface. It's as if it's looking at this situation and asking itself why it's happening.

　I don't know, I don't know. But there was no doubt in my mind that I had been shallow to a fault. Just because we once held hands and trusted our lives to each other doesn't mean we can do it again this time. Why couldn't I think so? Human connections are only as good as the people they are made for.

　After all, he was now in the company of Caria, Fialaat, and Erdis, with whom he had been at odds on previous journeys. It would not be strange at all if the opposite were to happen.

　So I don't know why we're at odds here and now. I don't know the reason. But one thing is certain in this situation.

　Bruder, my former friend and business associate, is now clearly against me. And he's coming to take my life, that's all.

　My breath is a white mist rising into the sky.

That's a strange word. You talk about me as if you knew me. I guess I'm a celebrity now.

　The nostalgic voice licked its lips as it spoke. However, he does not show any kind of relaxation while releasing those words. Bruder, too, now has a clear murderous intent in his eyes.

　The distance between us is now a matter of time. My sword can bounce off Bruder's head and rip out his heart if I thrust. And Bruder's long needle can easily gouge out my vitals in a matter of seconds at this distance.

　That's what Bruder is saying. Let's measure each other's speed on a scale.

　He's a man who thrives on this kind of life in the trenches. He's the kind of person who can easily throw his life away. And somehow, he's absolutely sure of it. That I will not be defeated. That failure is not an option.

　I was both envious and jealous of Bruder. Envy and jealousy are two sides of the same coin. It is similar to the way in which respect and envy are placed in the same category.

　To put it another way, Bruder was not a genius. His natural qualities are far from those of a hero. He does not have the piercing spirit of Caria, the prowess of Fialat to leap over ordinary men, or the violent power of Elddis.

　At worst, he's just plain ordinary. Not much different from me. Perhaps that's why I'm so immersed in the majesty of those geniuses, not only in my mind but also in the details of my spirit, that I'm not pressured by Bruder even at such a distance.

　And I understood from the previous blow. Bruder's strength hadn't changed that much since the old days. In a way, that was to be expected.

　Bruder's genius was very close to mine, which is why he was working with me. A genius will always recognize only a genius as a friend. Ordinary people long for geniuses and heroes, but it is still ordinary people who stand beside them as their friends.

　Bruder is no different. I don't think he's very confident in his abilities and talents.

　Yes, he was supposed to. So why is Bruder's life so exuberant? Why does he have such a confident look on his face when he owns the heart? I envied him for that. And then...

　--Geeeeeee!

　I hated her to no end. Oh, I'm such an endlessly small person.

　There was no signal. Just a moment when our breaths met.

　The sound of a needle piercing space. The sound of a sword running and clanging iron echoes through the back streets.


　I'm sorry.


　In the mercenary city of Belle Fain, there was a different kind of order than in other cities.

　It is a law of steel that must be observed by the many rough and tumble people of Belle Fane.

　In other words, her existence is absolute. In other words, her existence is absolute, and she herself is the law.

　The sound of clanking steel echoed through the streets. A figure clad in steel armor and riding a horse-shaped magical beast.

　She is too tall to be considered a woman, and although she is slender, she does not seem to be bothered by the steel she wears. Her expression does not change much, and her eyes wander aimlessly as if she is looking up at the sky.



　Who was it that first started calling her that? The only daughter of the Lord of Belle Fain, the guardian of the city, the one who holds the reins of the magical beasts, they call her.

　Vestalinu-Gorn, the Iron Princess, the devotee of iron, and Belle Fain herself.

　Her body is wrapped in steel, and even the horse-shaped magical beast that pulls her reins is armored with iron, and she strolls along the streets with several followers behind her. The streets of Belferia, which are usually noisy and deafening, are quiet on this occasion, and everyone naturally gives way to her.

　Some feared her, some adored her, and some shunned her. Some feared her, some adored her, some shunned her, but they made way for her, daring not to get involved.

　Undoubtedly, she was the symbol of rule in this city.

　Of course, it is her father who is in charge of the actual political affairs, but it is definitely Vestalinu-Gorn who has become the iron stake in the heart of the city's inhabitants, the one who makes them hang their heads.

　The reason for this is simple and obvious: Vestalinu is a terror to the inhabitants of the city.

　The city is ruled by a father who is the brains of the city and his daughter, Vestaline, who is the brawn of the city. The mere sound of the horse-shaped monster's hooves was enough to send shivers down the spines of the criminals hiding in the back streets, as if they had been stroked by steel.

　--Giiiiiiinnnnn!

　The horse, which had been crunching with a sound reminiscent of weight, stopped its hoofbeats. A few neighs sounded as they reared up the street.

　The Steel Princess's dim eyes became solid. What I heard now was the unmistakable sound of iron joining iron. At least there are no blacksmiths on this street. And it wasn't the beautiful sound you hear at a forge. There was something stagnant and muddy about the sound.

　The inhabitants of the street, the mercenaries, all choked up and tried to hide the sound. No one wants to be spotted by her, by Vestaline. This city of Belle Fain is very easy to live in for roughnecks, but not if they enter her consciousness.

　The Steel Princess was staring at me, and I was staring at her. That much notoriety can make life in this city difficult.

　What Vestalinu sees and hears. The sound of steel on steel. A sign of conflict. To eliminate those who cause disturbances in Belle Fane. Vestalinu, a true believer in iron, never misses a sound.

　With a gulp, Vestalinu lightly pulls the reins to the right and turns his horse toward the source of the sound. The followers behind her do not interrupt her. Because they understand.

　Vestalinu is the absolute ruler of this city, and to force your beak into his policies is to put yourself in front of the iron sword.