The Tide of Parieri
When Ashlyn opened her eyes, the train was nearly at its destination.
I really did pass out cold.
For all the trouble of pulling out a book, she had slept two or three hours as if she’d been knocked unconscious. Thankfully she hadn’t drooled or sprawled open-mouthed. Her cap was still properly on her head, and she hadn’t shifted from her seated posture.
Ashlyn carefully glanced to her left. Sergeant Vilef sat beside her with his eyes closed and his arms folded, his cap tucked against one knee.
“Sergeant.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The answer came at once.
“Why so quick? Weren’t you asleep?”
“I wasn’t. We were nearly there anyway.”
His clipped, measured speech somehow sounded oddly endearing.
“Still, weren’t you bored sitting alone?”
“Not really.”
“You do have a habit of answering ‘not really’ whenever you’re unsure, Sergeant.”
He added, a little sheepish, “…I wasn’t bored.”
Ashlyn laughed under her breath. Sergeant Vilef’s way of speaking was rough-hewn, yet there was something strangely likable about it. She touched the brim of her cap with her fingertips.
“We should get ready to get off.”
The train gradually slowed and finally came to a complete stop.
Stepping out of the carriage was like entering an entirely different world. Unlike the desolate silence of Kran Station, Parieri Station—capital of Paros—thrummed with life.
A capital really is something else.
The moment Ashlyn and Gennady stepped down, the crowd packed onto the platform surged into the train like a tidal wave. All of them were bound for the Istar Republic, the Willem Kingdom, or the Kunets Alliance. In that sudden crush of bodies Ashlyn nearly lost Sergeant Vilef.
Good grief. So this is where everyone boards.
Fortunately the sergeant was extremely tall, so finding him from her side of the throng was no great difficulty. Ashlyn waved an arm to signal I’m over here and called out.
“Vilef!”
“—Second Lieutenant.”
Sergeant Vilef, who had been staring blankly at the crowd, reacted the instant he heard her quiet shout. His sharp gold eyes locked onto her with the practiced precision of a searchlight. She waved more vigorously.
“Stay there, I’ll come—”
She never finished the sentence. Sergeant Vilef simply strode straight toward her. Whether it was her imagination or not, the dense throng parted before him like waves breaking on a shoreline. In moments he stood close and thrust out his arm.
Am I supposed to take it?
For a fleeting second she remembered formal parties and the proper way to accept an escort. Of course the situation was nothing like that now. Even so, she hesitated.
“……”
She dithered long enough to miss the moment entirely. By the time Sergeant Vilef awkwardly withdrew the offered arm, Ashlyn still hadn’t managed a single word.
I didn’t offend him, did I?
She watched his back as he simply continued on his way and fretted for a moment. He had only meant to look out for her in his own fashion, and she felt uncomfortable at having seemed so cold. The thought did not last long.
The moment they left the station, another world entirely opened before them.
If Istaria, capital of Istar, was a city of radiant gold, and Boheten, capital of the Barbaros Empire, was a gray city of concrete and steel, then Parieri, capital of Paros, was nothing short of a riot of color. Red, purple, and orange flags and posters fluttered along the streets; the scent of exotic spices tickled the nose.
But what stood out most of all was…
The noise.
And it was deafening.
She had been in Paros for quite some time, yet ironically this was the first occasion she had ever heard so much of the Paros language.
Merchants haggling, children shouting as they ran, and—
“Real wine, real tobacco—just what the soldier-gentlemen like!”
Peddlers with portable trays slung over their shoulders kept planting themselves in front of Gennady and Ashlyn.
“Buying medals! Military goods too! Imperial gear fetches higher prices! Sir, no one pays better than me, so…”
Ashlyn leveled a sharp glare at the man and spoke distinctly.
“Not interested.”
They all turned away with faces that had lost interest. Ashlyn muttered over her shoulder to the man following her.
“How many soldiers must have come here and sold off army supplies for them to be this aggressive?”
Strictly speaking it was embezzlement too. The sergeant answered her grumbling with complete indifference.
“They don’t pay that well anyway.”
“……”
“Imperial gear goes for a bit more. A canteen in good condition might get you one cheap bottle of wine. Medals fluctuate…”
Ashlyn shot him a sidelong glance. Watching him discuss it as calmly as if he were quoting the price of pork at a butcher’s stall made her recoil on pure reflex.
I don’t do that sort of thing.
She had no intention of scavenging a dead man’s belongings to sell. The words rose as far as her throat and died there.
Right. We stand in different places.
She faced forward again. The place the two of them were heading was a hotel right in the middle of Parieri’s New Town shopping district.
The High Mountain Hotel. The most expensive hotel not merely in Parieri but in all of Paros. As if to prove the point, the lobby was furnished with considerable luxury. It could not compare to a high-end hotel in Istar, yet the sumptuous woven carpets and lingering fragrance gave it a distinctly exotic atmosphere.
In a dim corner of the ground-floor lobby sat two officers who looked to belong to the Morning Star Allied Forces. Judging by the number of empty bottles scattered between them, they had been planted there for hours drinking themselves senseless. The moment Ashlyn and Gennady entered the lobby, the pair suddenly started in on them.
“Istar mage officers, huh? Who’s the beanpole on the right?”
“Bodyguard, maybe. Mages get special treatment, after all.”
“Second lieutenant by the shoulder boards.”
On closer look both men belonged to the Willem Kingdom army. Their rank insignia marked them as captains. Faces flushed with drink twisted as they eyed Ashlyn and Gennady.
What a nuisance.
For a moment she considered removing the mage-corps patch even if only for the duration of leave. Then the smaller of the two raised his voice so everyone could hear.
“Who knows? Maybe they came for a hot night. The guy looks like he can put his back into it, that’s for sure.”
“Istar bastards have it made. Pretty lady officers who put out for them too. Makes me want to be an Istar citizen myself.”
Ashlyn exhaled.
In the past she would have gone straight at them, but today fatigue came first. Besides, she had already heard that kind of crude contempt until she was sick of it back in the Kran trenches.
More than that, the intent was so transparent it was almost boring. The fact that they were deliberately speaking Istar rather than Willem made it plain they were baiting her; she saw little point in answering a pair of drunkards’ nonsense.
Not even worth the effort—just a couple of idiots. Maybe I’ll note their names and units later.
When she had time she meant to file a complaint with Allied Command Headquarters. The taller of the two must have read her ice-cold expression and guessed her intentions; his face hardened. As if the alcohol had suddenly worn off, he hastily bowed his head and whispered urgently into his companion’s ear.
“What? Stop? Why the hell should I? Saying I’m jealous they get to roll around with a pretty girl isn’t an insult! Those Istar bastards hog all the Paros women for themselves too!”
A chill silence settled over the lobby. The faces of the staff behind the front desk went white.
Even Ashlyn could no longer pretend she had not heard. The taller captain, who had at least recovered his senses, hurriedly offered an awkward apology.
“Sorry about that. My friend here drank himself stupid for the first time in ages and lost his manners.”
“Why apologize? If anyone should be sorry it’s the Istar bastards. We’re the ones who got dragged into this mess because of them.”
“Shut your mouth! Let me apologize again. I’ll drag my friend out of here—just pretend you never heard it.”
Ashlyn simply stared at the two of them without saying a word.
They’re having a grand old time arguing among themselves.
She was tired.
Unwilling to waste even another minute, she started for the front desk—when a scream erupted behind her.
“Aagh!”
At the single cry from her back Ashlyn whirled around, startled. Horror flooded her face at once.
How could she not be horrified? Sergeant Vilef had seized the still-babbling short captain by the collar. And it was no ordinary grip. He had hoisted the man high into the air as if hanging a condemned prisoner from a gallows.
“Hey, you—! Help me!”
The Willem Kingdom captain’s arms and legs flailed helplessly in midair. His companion finally shoved at Sergeant Vilef’s shoulder, but the sergeant did not budge an inch. Fists, body checks—nothing moved him so much as a hair.
Even the man who would have counted as quite tall by ordinary human standards looked as frail as a straw stalk standing next to Sergeant Vilef.
Without taking his eyes off the man whose collar he held, the sergeant spoke in a low voice that scraped the floor.
“…Apologize.”