Chapter 310: Faith and Faith (4)

Thump. Thump.

At Yursled's model Camp, Lehmann Hart stood before a train preparing to take on passengers, trying to calm a pounding heart.

"Get on!"

The Imperial Guard herded the subspecies onto the train.

As each name was called, another person climbed the steps. A guard at the door counted heads and checked the paperwork.

"Ugh. Why's this bastard taking so long?"

One of the guards shoved the man at the back of the line, almost hard enough to count as a blow.

"What's wrong?"

Lehmann approached and asked.

"This bastard keeps..."

"I, I have to attend the audition."

An audition. The man who said it had a violin clutched to his chest. Lehmann hesitated, but the guard pushed the man's back.

"What the fuck are you babbling about? Get on!"

"The a-audition..."

"You're on the list! I said get on!"

Lehmann watched as the man kept backing away, still talking about the audition.

"No! I have to go to the audition!"

"Fuck, this bastard really has lost it."

Klaus reached toward their waist. Lehmann's gaze flickered.

"Klaus. Wait..."

Bang!

A gunshot.

A bullet through the head.

The violin fell with the body...

"Move!"

At the shout, boarding resumed as though nothing had happened.

One person's death made everyone move faster.

"Get on! We don't have time! Unless you want to get shot..."

The voice seemed to spin uselessly inside Lehmann's ears.

Trickle, trickle...

Blood flowed over to the heels of Lehmann's military boots.

"..."

Lehmann stared deep into the fallen man's eyes.

They were frozen open.

* * *

I remembered the musicians' names. Yursled had been home to many stars whose light the Empire had put out.

People had long said that tragedy created art, but that was probably just an excuse to ease our sense of loss.

Had they lived longer, they would have left behind more performances, more paintings, more music.

That was why I felt glad for the artists who remained here.

Since they were not Izenheim, they would be able to keep enriching this continent for many years to come.

For the record, there were no Izenheim on this list. Rainer had screened them out beforehand.

"...Thank you for listening."

The auditions had already reached their end. The last pianist, Sekif, finished playing.

I had little to say to them.

"Outstanding."

Sekif had been a famous talent even before my regression.

A Mer who had been lucky enough to survive the turmoil of war and become one of the continent's great masters.

Their piano sounded like footsteps on snow.

"The auditions are now over. First, we'll show all the participants to a separate room."

All the participants were taken elsewhere. Rainer also rose, saying they would go ahead and get things in order.

I left the hall. Members of the Imperial Guard stood in a line.

"It's an honor!"

After shaking their hands and remembering their names, I walked down the corridor of the residence.

Step. Step.

Hard footsteps rang against the marble.

"...What do you think? Of how it looks here?"

Ezel suddenly asked from behind me.

I raised my eyebrows.

"Not much."

It wasn't particularly good.

"Right? Then how should we change it?"

Ezel sounded as though she agreed.

"We should restore it to Yursled's own style."

They had tried to force the Empire's splendor into Yursled's atmosphere and ruined both.

The building itself had been built according to Yursled's traditions. Changing the interior however they pleased wouldn't make it better.

"I see."

We walked side by side.

"...Max."

Ezel's voice grew quiet. Without letting me see her eyes, she asked,

"Is it because the Empire wants it?"

She had left much of the question unsaid, but I understood what she meant.

I looked out the window at Yursled.

The snow-covered horizon was still hazy.

"Because His Majesty the Emperor wants it?"

It was a dangerous question.

But it was just like Ezel.

"...No."

I turned to her.

The Emperor's madness. The Empire's ideology.

Looking back, my faith had not come from those things.

"Because that's where my faith lies."

The future in which humanity perished, and the fact that the Izenheim were the continent's enemy.

Neither was the same as the faith I held.

"...Then..."

But Ezel could not know everything about me. Even if she did, she would not be able to believe it, so she asked,

"Max, what do you believe in?"

...My faith.

The one belief held by the person I was, by the being called Maximilian.

"Me."

That I was Maximilian.

"I believe in myself."

Neither the great cause of humanity's survival, nor the Emperor's dream, nor a war that would kill tens of millions could erase the being called "me."

Because the only thing on this continent that would never change was myself, who had returned through time.

* * *

Rattle. Rattle.

Inside the train traveling from Yursled to Bolska.

"Was that really necessary?"

Lehmann Hart asked Klaus, who stood farther up the aisle.

"What was?"

Klaus tilted their head while drinking cola.

Lehmann calculated the time. There were only a few minutes left, so they quietly slipped a hand inside their jacket.

Their fingers closed around a pistol.

"Back there."

"...Oh. The guy who said he played music? The audition?"

Lehmann nodded after a moment.

"Ugh..."

Klaus sighed and took a cigarette from a pocket, then put it between their lips.

"They weren't taking Izenheim anyway."

"...Izenheim?"

"Yeah. The higher-ups sent his paperwork back."

Klaus took off their cap and ruffled their hair.

"We're short on people as it is. You think I killed him because I wanted to? Even if he was a subspecies..."

Guilt passed over Klaus's face. A heavy, leaden emotion.

"It feels like shit."

"..."

Lehmann slowly let go of the pistol.

"...Right."

They were all the same, anyway.

They knew, yet they cooperated. They knew, yet they served.

Still, someone like Klaus was better than the others.

Someone who knew whom they were hurting, whom they were killing.

Someone like that could turn back and stand on our side at any time.

* * *

"..."

In the corridor of the governor's residence, after Maximilian had left, Ezel stood by the window for a long time, looking up at Yursled's sky. Heavy gray clouds hung overhead.

"...What did you think of Sir Maximilian?"

A low voice came from behind her.

Rainer Wolf.

"Is he very different from the old days?"

Without waiting for her answer, he continued.

"Or was he always like that?"

Rainer Wolf came to stand beside her and looked out the same window.

"His birth, his character, his bearing, his bloodline, his ideology. Everything about him seems to symbolize imperialism."

His words sounded respectful of Maximilian.

"A man of steel. You'd almost expect him to ring if you struck him."

Yet beneath them lay a certain desire to challenge Maximilian.

Ezel was fairly good at reading people like him.

Did this man consider Maximilian something of a rival?

She wondered whether she should stop him, but they were not close enough for her to go out of her way to be kind.

"...Acting Governor."

An Imperial Guard member suddenly hurried over and whispered something to Rainer.

"Hmm. Is that so?"

Rainer answered calmly. Only the ends of his eyebrows drooped a little.

Ezel asked as though nothing was wrong.

"What happened?"

"..."

Rainer looked at Ezel in silence, then lifted the corners of his mouth.

"Apparently, there's been a problem with the transport train."

A problem. Ezel clenched her fists without realizing it.

But hadn't the news come too quickly?

"Do you need to go?"

"No."

Rainer gave a small chuckle and took out a cigar.

"It's fine. This train transport is special."

Special. Her sense of dread grew.

"It was an important matter, so I made preparations."

He cut the end of the cigar, lit it with a match, and quietly placed it between his lips.

"After all, even a passing rat would know that all the guards would be drawn to the auditions."

Rainer looked out the window, toward the railway.

"If the rats wanted to move, wouldn't they choose that moment?"

"..."

Ezel kept her expression under control. She simply smiled.

"...That's a relief."

She turned away, but his voice caught her before she could leave.

"The musicians are gathered in a separate room. At Sir Maximilian's request."

When she stopped, Rainer continued.

"Aren't you curious about what will happen there? I do believe he genuinely loves art, but..."

The cigar smoke slowly dispersed.

"I'm not sure whether that extends to 'subspecies.'"

* * *

Lehmann Hart checked the watch. It was the kind being issued to members of the Imperial Guard these days.

Powered by a mana stone, it made no sound, and unlike a windup watch, its second hand never fell behind or stopped.

It was so accurate that the enemy was desperate to capture one.

"..."

It was time.

Lehmann looked outside.

Clatter!

The train lurched violently. Klaus bounced in their seat.

"Ah, shit. What was that?"

As Klaus needlessly fumbled at their waist...

KABOOOM!

An explosion erupted, and the train stopped.

"Wh-what?!"

"Get down!"

Lehmann shouted at Klaus.

Bang! Rat-a-tat-tat!

Gunfire tore through the carriage. Windows shattered, and masked men climbed aboard from beside the tracks.

The Revolutionary Faction.

"Wh-what are those bastards..."

"Shh. We're outnumbered."

Lehmann pressed Klaus flat against the floor.

"If you don't resist, your lives will be spared!"

The revolutionaries took control of the train one carriage at a time. Several guards who resisted were killed, and the subspecies lay flat, seemingly terrified.

"Don't move! If you don't resist, we'll spare your lives!"

Then it happened.

"..."

One of the seated "classified detainees" stood up. He walked steadily out into the aisle.

A revolutionary was about to shoot him, then flinched back.

"Please stay seated! We're here to help you!"

"..."

Faced with the man's silent glare, the revolutionary raised their voice in frustration.

"If you go to Bolska, you'll..."

The man drew a dagger and stabbed the revolutionary in the throat.

"...Ghk!"

Lehmann's eyes widened. Klaus caught their breath.

It was not just one person. The infiltrators among the classified detainees rose all at once and attacked the revolutionaries in an instant.

Ghk! Urgh! Ghhk!

It was over quickly. One of them walked up to Lehmann and Klaus.

"...Get up."

He wiped the blood from his blade with a ragged sleeve and gave a small grin.

"Name's Zendo. Gennen branch office."

* * *

In a separate room at the Acting Governor's residence, the musicians sat together, fiddling with their instruments.

"..."

They were quiet, not speaking. They exchanged brief smiles, but for some reason, an unexplained fear rose within them.

They kept looking toward the door.

Jingle.

Just then, the door opened. The musicians flinched and straightened up as soldiers poured in.

The Imperial Guard.

"We're conducting a search."

With stern faces, they came in and searched the musicians' clothes. They turned out even the linings of suits that had barely been patched together, almost tearing them apart.

"..."

When all their shaking produced nothing but dust, not even a coin, they paused to think, then pointed at the larger instruments, such as the cello, and muttered something.

The interpreter translated.

"They're asking what's inside these instruments."

"P-pardon? Nothing... They're just instruments. There's sound inside."

The guard's brow immediately furrowed.

The interpreter translated.

"They're asking if they can open it."

"Wh-what? No, it can't be opened!"

When the interpreter looked over, the guard gave a sneer.

"They're asking how that makes any sense."

"Wh-what are you talking about?!"

The musician clutched the cello and shouted.

Click.

A gun was pointed at the musician's forehead.

"Ver ankht du, vass hir kemt? Shvaig."

The guard snapped something angrily.

The interpreter hesitated before translating.

"Do you know who's coming here?"

"...Pardon?"

One of the guards took the cello away and pushed a finger into a sound hole to look inside.

"N-no!"

The cellist lunged forward. Just as the guard's finger caught the trigger...

"Enough."

A gentle voice stopped them.

One person.

Just one person entered, and his presence bore down on everyone in the room.

Even the guards, who had been treating the musicians with such harsh authority a moment ago, instantly shrank back.

"There's nothing inside an instrument but sound. Stand back."

"...Yes, sir!"

They all hurried back.

Maximilian first took off his coat. He waved away the guard who tried to take it for him.

"We haven't yet decided which of you have passed or failed."

He spoke in perfectly natural Yursled.

The interpreter, now left with nothing to do, looked at him with great admiration, while the musicians held their breath.

"The standard for passing or failing is..."

The standard.

What standard did he mean?

An uneasy silence settled over the room.

Cold sweat formed on the musicians' temples.

They let out tense, heated breaths and sighs.

The guards stood behind the musicians, and...

Thud.

The door closed.

Clack. Clack.

The rifles lowered.

...

Ezel hurried to find the room. She did not know exactly where it was, so she wandered through the governor's residence until...

♩

A faint melody. Music.

She headed toward it.

A line of guards had already formed outside the room.

"Y-Your Grace, Duchess Runcelot!"

Ezel did not ask why they were there. She simply rushed through them and pressed herself against the door.

The first thing she saw through a gap in it was...

"...?"

Maximilian's smile.

With a baton in one hand and sheet music before him, he seemed to be conducting the musicians.

Ezel watched, motionless.

One part of the music slipped slightly. It was faint, but the pitch was definitely wrong.

"Chelo, troshku nizhe. Nie spieshaj."

When Maximilian appeared to point it out, the cellist smiled sheepishly and nodded.

"Zorva, ot pochetku."

Maximilian said something else in Yursled.

The musicians answered together, and the moment he raised his baton...

♬

A gentle melody flowed out. Countless sounds gathered at his fingertips.

♩ ♬

The cello laid down a low foundation first, and the violin drew a thin line above it. The flute rose along that line, while the piano settled like snowflakes.

♬♩

...Maximilian happily brought it all into harmony.

A boyish smile filled his face.

"..."

As she watched him, Ezel somehow found herself thinking that he had not changed.

The way he guided the music with a smile. His love of art, his delight in their performance, his thoughtfulness in speaking a language familiar to them.

Max, as gentle and soft as he had been before.

The friend I once liked.

Which made him all the more impossible to understand...

"You mustn't disturb him. They've only been practicing for twenty minutes."

The guards gently took her by the shoulders.

After stepping back a couple of paces, Ezel asked them,

"Why are you all standing here?"

"Oh. When Sir Maximilian finishes practicing and comes out..."

They wanted him to get to know their faces, or at least shake their hands.

For a moment, their words left Ezel so dumbfounded that she felt dizzy.