Глава 12

She laughs, and also starts coughing.

A thesis on heraldry as an application to be a Fellow of the Royal Victorian Academy of Sciences?

Mister, you chose to write <i>this</i> of all the other things you could have written?

It's totally useless.

Baird skips over the long, stupefying paragraphs of research and references.

The paper ends abruptly. After a blank page is an angry note from the man on how he had forgotten some important material he wanted to add.

His desperation shows through the broken writing that eventually fades off the page.

At some point, he seems to have begun writing his wishes instead.

'I hope 'The Genealogy of the Ashworth Family' can manifest in my hands soon.'

'I hope the editors will understand how significant my work is, and increase my book advance.'

'I hope the professor won't be angry at me, those were just academic arguments and I still respect him very much.'

'Fine, if I get the chance, I'm willing to concede the debate, and share some of his tea again.'

'I'm still so hungry, I could really go for the fried fins sold on the street corner.'

'I hope Jane hasn't forgotten me, I love her just as much as when I left her.'

'I'm a scoundrel. I hope those kids at the gym are doing alright.'

'I want to drink three million barrels of whiskey.'

'Aunt Sarah, I miss you, I'm sorry to have grown up into such a bad child.'

'Bloody hell.'

'Bloody hell, who would even grant my wishes? I've prayed as hard as I can to all the beings I know and don't.'

'If that evangelistic Liberi Cleric showed up right in front of me, I'd give him a thrashing for sure.'

'Alright, fine.'

'I hope that everyone's wishes comes true, that everyone can be happy, safe, and healthy, to live their best lives, every single one.'

'I hope no one will suffer anymore, or be tortured, everyone should be smiling, and all tears should evaporate off this great land, along with hunger.'

'I hope that all of this wasn't in vain.'

'I hope that all of this—'

A long scratch mark follows, and the writing stops there.

Well, I guess this is it.

Baird raises her hand with much difficulty. The pen nib is almost dried out, and she tries making several marks before leaving a short line in black ink.

'I hope so too.'

Hmph. I'm starting to regret this.

Sneaking in here... was not a good idea.

The higher the place, the more complete and larger the shadows are.

But this place is a little too high up...

...Can you let me go?

No can do, girlie.

Don't you get any funny ideas either.

This ship is way too big. I'd really appreciate a cute girl helping me keep an eye out for any soldiers popping up.

Do you also call yourself a Victorian Sarkaz?

No, I'm a Kazdel Sarkaz.

Wait, but... if you're a Kazdel Sarkaz...? Then why are you...?

Aren't you working for General Manfred and the Military Commission?

I work only for myself.

Where's this ship headed?

I don't like seeing kids suffer.

I... I don't know...

I really don't!

What exactly is your job here?

Um... being a Sarkaz mercenary?

Heh. A Sarkaz mercenary who hasn't killed before.

You can't even silently draw your weapon while being captured.

What's Manfred even planning to do here? Open a kindergarten?

General Manfred says he wants me to learn what war is.

Well, how's that going?

I think it's just people killing another group of people.

Congratulations, we share the same view.

This ship sure flies high.

The General says it's because it's a revenant.

Ugh. A revenant. So that's why.

That's why Ascalon was in so much pain. Good thing they're conspicuous.

This ship is still ascending.

Judging by our heading... it's not flying towards the battlefield. This ship is returning to Londinium.

You flew out of Londinium, fired a shot at the Duke's warship, and then stopped for a few days in Norport Borough.

And now that the dukes are on their way with their fleets, you're retreating?

Seems like I need to change my impression of Manfred. Not only is he passionate about pedagogy, but he likes to take the ship out for little drives too?

I...

Alright, you don't know anything at all.

What's your name?

Paprika.

So you're the Paprika mentioned in the report I read. You freed the workers from Munitions Factory No. 11, and then you were caught by Manfred.

For a Sarkaz mercenary, is that... not honorable?

For a Sarkaz mercenary, honor is the worst kind of shame.

Okay.

You've been to Kazdel before, right? What is it like?

My old captain told me that it's our homeland.

Where did you grow up?

Columbia.

No wonder.

Every Sarkaz that hasn't been to Kazdel thinks it's probably an adorable, sweet little place.

That's just your own wishful thinking.

Think of the filthiest, most disgusting, any derogatory adjective you can muster, and multiply that by a hundred—now <i>that's</i> Kazdel.

Sounds like most people wouldn't like it.

Then why... why do so many Sarkaz call it home?

Because they need a home.

They think, as long as they have a home, everything will fall neatly into place, all discrimination and persecution against them will cease and they'll once again be able to puff out their chests in pride.

Hmph. It's silly.

Or maybe you think that... because you're not a Sarkaz?

You like to ask questions, little girl, but that's not a good habit in wartime.

I... I was only making a guess! Please don't get angry!

...I'm just real curious.

Nobody here wants to talk to me, and General Manfred is always busy.

They're all so excited and always talk about doing great things... but why don't I feel it?

All I've seen is familiar faces dying one by one, getting replaced by fresh faces, but when those become familiar...

The same thing just happens again and again.

I feel like I shouldn't be here at all.

Does it actually matter if someone is really a Sarkaz or not?

If everyone thinks you're a Sarkaz, then you might as well grind down your horns and pretend to be one.

Fixed

Because you can only survive as a Sarkaz.

And when it comes to surviving, your feelings don't matter at all.

And that's why you joined this war with the Sarkaz?