Messiah 27 : Jail

She could smell it.

The gentle and soothing scent of Jaanthro and Curamel in the air. The vibrant curtains made of a brilliant green velvet, and an unfamiliar, young maid folding garments in the corner of the room.

It was a familiar scene to her.

She had been here often when she was younger.

When she had expressed her desire to visit her friend's home, the guards and escorts would take her and her best friend Cosette to this wonderful place.

Marquis Gracer's humble mansion, where they had spent a good deal of their childhood playing here.

Although Matalpalhallafaelladrapahamo Roberia was indeed a warrior princess, the castle was no place for her to freely roam about and enjoy as she pleased.

The daily combat drills held in the castle, where the squires and knights are to respond to situations immediately in order to hone their combat readiness, meant that even the very halls the servants and maids traversed were commonly riddled with dirt and the clatter of greaves against the stone floor.

To achieve military excellence, the warriors were required to participate in combat at those choke points against the greater knights, an ideal challenge of discipline, stamina and control; They were to engage their wood-wielding superiors with the potential risk of injuring their own people, to follow the orders of their Chief Strategist by the word, and to react to the constantly varying situations accordingly as if they were truly fighting for their lives.

Before Matalpalhallfaelladrapahamo Michael was injured, Roberia remembered the thundering of footsteps and the roars of the soldiers as they clashed.

Before she was asked to participate in the training itself, Roberia was actually quite afraid of the drills that were held in the castle.

She recalled how some of the squires accidentally hurt the maids in the corridor. The sensation of the blood still lingered in her nose, even today. The squires who failed the exercises faced a fearsome punishment, and they had to take responsibility for the ones they injured. Some were forced into debt, and some coerced into marriage. Others who weren't quite as lucky had their rights as squires revoked and their families enslaved for repeat offenders.

Despite how cruel and dangerous it was, Rugnud had indeed produced top-quality knights who have protected the country with their sheer might alone. Even against the other countries where their magi were exemplary, the knights would not falter or wane in the faces of their opponents.

For a long time now, Rugnud had achieved a most enviable peace.

However, though Rugnud had not faced war in almost 200 years, the amount of blood and sweat shed in that castle to perfect their knights was more than enough to make anyone sink into a maddening despair.

It was an extremely grueling training, one that Roberia was almost certain she would fail at from the start.

And yet... Here she lay, breathing, reminiscing, and living.

She had survived... No. She had triumphed over that ordeal.

Along with the many knights who would become great warriors truly worthy of the title 'knight', she had succeeded.

She can't stop.

Not for as long as she draws breath, she will not allow harm to befall this kingdom.

She would not let this country fall to corruption and depravity.

Roberia got up from the comfortable bed, and saw the black hair of the maid, tied into a braid.

Black hair...

The image of Katachi formed in her head immediately.

That silly fool of a boy, who seemed stupid and slow in his actions.

And yet...

She can't bear to hate him.

If her single-mindedness for Rugnud were to be measured by the depth of a well, she was certain that while he focused his respect on everything else except himself, his devotion would be insulted if it were ever compared on an equal level.

Just as he had respected the ants on the road, just as he had respected that blond-haired lady from before by gently pushing her aside, just as he had respected Roberia herself by not taking her life...

He may have completely different values, but she was certain that his respect and love for everything around him was boundless.

If she were a mere well, he would be the vast, endless sea.

He was a faint, but persistent ray that shone out in the darkness.

A fool who reached his hand out slowly, reaching for his goal ever so slowly.

To never betray his own ideals, while moving slowly and carefully, with unnecessary caution.

In a way, she could relate to him completely.

And, the best of all...

He was a fool who made her feel the warmth of having company.

Before she set off on this journey, she had turned cold towards the people in pursuit of her hand, of the status they would receive and brag about, of the wealth and fame and the riches.

But that black-haired boy had showed her the warmth of being respected, of being treated fairly, of being treated as another person.

With her true nature shielded from his eyes, she could see how he honestly cared for her, without ever realizing or bringing up her role as a princess.

A man like him was, if anything, worth endangering her own life to protect.

Her throat was dry, and she needed a drink badly.

But with her raw will, she ignored the roaring heat at the back of her mouth and coughed her words out quickly.

R : "... Take me to the capital now."

"... What?"

R : "Bilkenstury. Take me there. Now."

*** ***

He couldn't really see what was around him.

But, then again, if he could see what was around him in clarity, he would probably wish he didn't.

A musky and foul stench draped the area. Katachi could smell the thick, layering mildew in the cold and humid air, and he felt the ground beneath him rumbling slightly, representing the many things around him.

There was no light.

Not a single source of light could be found. There was no way to truly make out what was around him, except by the breath escaping his mouth and the vibrations around him.

K : (... Not a sign of a draft. There's no ventilation at all... Am I underground?)

Similarities and differences.

It was similar, in a sense, because Katachi had sometimes been tasked by Mother Rinnesfeld to fetch herbs or food for her while she attends to more pressing matters. The feel of the room he was in felt similar to the cellars of the provisions store, and yet... Different.

The cellar of the provisions store had a moldy smell as a result of storing used mops in a corner, thus making the air danke and producing a musty smell.

*Cozy's Notes : 'Danke' is the Middle English form of 'Dank'. I'm thinking that, well, if I plan to use these words that have yet existed, I should use their Middle English variants or something. Yeh*

But the stench here was something else. The fetid odor of sweat draped over the air like a miasma, there was an iron-like smell similar to blood, and it reeked of decay and defecation. The surroundings felt weird, and his own footstep sounded strange in that it echoed back at him rhythmically, so he could guess that wherever he was, it was cramped and compact with many small rooms...

... Like a jail.

The last thing he could remember was that he was slowly lowering Roberia, at that borter. He didn't remember what happened after, but the numbness above his neck implied that someone had struck a blunt blow at the back of his defenseless head.

Had he been arrested?

K : (... I've heard that Rugnud is in bad relations with Ohde... I shouldn't be surprised if I were attacked like that.)

From a logical point of view, the sight of an Ohdean holding a Rugnud citizen in his arms was probably an unsettling sight for the soldiers. The implications of that actions would give the misconception that the citizen would prefer an Ohdean for her spouse over her own countrymen. That could have greatly upset the populace of Rugnud, and could have been considered an indirect attack against Rugnud by Ohde, which would clearly explain the hostility held against him.

K : (... I guess I should have watched myself more. This isn't Findel anymore.)

Of course, his information was right. The tension between Rugnud and Ohde had resolved before he was even born, but for a child who learned of the world from books, his sources of information were destined to reach their limit eventually.

*Cozy's Notes : That may be true, but he's insanely good at countering magic as a result. It's not entirely bad, is it? Katachi has excellent potential as a counter-magus. He can cast any spell he remembers and can counter any spell he recognizes. That only applies if he successfully identifies it, though - Recall the previous Deku Up! on assumed history & true history.*

He can't do much in this darkness.

All he could hope for is to feel around and try to get a sense of his bearings in check.

Katachi reached his hands out and tried to feel the wall, but felt something flat and leathery instead.

"Hands off, buddy. I got's no interest in men."

The hoarse voice that responded from right before him was quite the shock. If there were sufficient light, Katachi's stupefied face would have been a rather hilarious sight to behold.

*Cozy's Notes : As such, I leave it to your imagination as to what his face should look like. God damn it, I've been reading Baka to Test to Shoukanjuu and I'm getting trolly on my own story, gawd dehmnit*

K : "... Sorry. I can't exactly see what's in front of me."

"We got's a conned here, eh? What's you in for?"

He spoke in a rather... strange tone. Katachi wasn't used to someone speaking in such a brash manner, so the accent threw him off by a little. He stumbled backwards and pressed his back against something that felt like iron bars.

K : (... Bars from nowhere... So this is a prison, after all.) "... I was arrested at the borter."

"Tried to smuggle, did you? I feel you. My uncle's done's plenty to warts like you."

That line made him feel uncomfortable, for some reason.

K : (Did he mean to say that his uncle has framed others for misdeeds before?... I've read about Rugnud's guards rewarding people for upholding their role as a vigilant citizen. I suppose that could also be used in a more vulgar way, to earn a small amount to feed your family. The uncle must have it tough... Wait, what's a wart?) "A... A wart?"

"Yeah, wart, keep it down. Else you's next."

K : (Next?)

The crackle that followed after answered his question.

A sound like the flexing of a leather whip upon bare skin resounded through the cells clearly. The anguished scream of a man in great pain could be heard.

K : (... Someone's being whipped... !) "A whip..."

"Yeah. Whips. The whips got's no eyes, see? They hurt guards and us equally."

K : (There's no doubt. This is definitely a prison.)

The whip's crackle only served to affirm that he was currently captured by the Rugnud government.

However, Katachi showed not fear, but remorse.

K : (... Assuming that's true... I shouldn't have given whoever it was a chance to do this. Had they targeted me, based on my appearance?... I should find some way to prove that I'm from Findel. I don't think speaking fluent Findeli at this point's going to save me, if the guard who I talked to didn't argue in my favor.)

He began planning for his own vindication, albeit in a completely wrong direction. But who was to tell him that he was wrong, in that dark room where he had no certainty as to why he was there in the first place?