Zero no Tsukaima:Volume6 Chapter5
Chapter Five: Flame of Twenty Years Ago
D’Angleterre (Angle Province)
Located at the southwest area facing the sea, these settlments were said to be built a few centuries ago by migrants from Albion. This area has always been a source of headaches for the Kings of Tristain over the generations.
This is because there is a culture of independence here; whenever something happens, they would oppose the central government.
So around a hundred years ago, when a religious leader from the religious country Romalia started an event to practice their religion, the highly motivated people in this region all rushed to join in this event. Even though this displeased the King and raised his suspicions… Still the people in this region continued to maintain the unique carefree style, and willingly accepted the terms suggested, so there wasn’t any vigorous suppression.
In other words, the people in D’Angleterre were slick and pleased both sides.
Twenty years ago, they forced the Tristian government recognize their own independent government, and set up a temple for a new religion.
Because of that, they became an eyesore to the Romalian government. In the end, Tristian was pressurized to send an army to suppress them… That was what was recorded regarding the incident then.
That day, twenty years ago, Agnes was still only three years old. Her memories about then are fragmented, yet still very fresh and strong.
The three-year-old Agnes was originally picking seashells on the seashore.
Then she found something more beautiful than the pretty seashells sculptured by the waves. It was… A ring with a big ruby on it, beautiful like a fire-- It was sparkling on the finger of a young female that had been washed ashore.
The three-year-old Agnes felt afraid, as she stretched out her hand to touch that ruby ring. At that instant, the female opened her eyes and she asked Agnes in a trembling voice.
“…… This is?”
“D, D’Angleterre.”
After Agnes replied, the young female appeared satisfied, and nodded.
After that, Agnes ran to inform the adults that she had found someone who had been washed ashore. Even though that female was on the brink of death, under the care of the villagers, she managed to pull through.
She called herself Vittoria. Even though she was a noble, as she is a member of the new religion, she was pursued by Romalia and so she escaped out.
A Tristian squad came to this place a month later.
They burned the village indiscriminately.
Fathers, mothers… The home she was born and grew up in… All swallowed by flames in an instant.
The young Agnes kept running amidst the flames, and finally escaped into the house Vittoria was hiding in.
Vittoria hid Agnes under a blanket. Not long after, a group of men rushed into the room.
“The Romalian woman is here!”
The rough male shout made Agnes very scared.
Following that, she heard a voice chanting a spell.
The next moment, Vittoria, who let Agnes hide on the bed, was surrounded by flames. As Agnes’s consciousness gradually faded away, she saw someone who, despite being burnt by scorching flames, was casting water magic on Agnes to increase her resistance to fire-- It was Vittoria.
Agnes’s memories ended there temporarily. The next scene that was reflected in her eyes was--
A man’s neck.
An ugly neck that had very obvious burn marks.
Agnes was being carried piggyback by that man. Seeing the wand in his hand, Agnes understood that he was a mage. In other words, she understood that this was the man that used Fire magic to burn her village into ashes.
Agnes’s consciousness began fading once more… When she woke up, she realized she is lying by the shore, wrapped in a blanket. The village kept on burning in the massive flames. Agnes stared at the wavering flames without shifting her eyes.
She was the only survivor.
From that day, over twenty years had passed.
Yet whenever she closes her eyes, that massive flame would appear before her eyes.
That massive flame that killed her family and savior.
At the other end of that flame, a man’s back would appear.
After growing up, Agnes learned that incident was part of Romalia’s “new religion hunt”. The trigger for that incident was due to the village protecting Vittoria who escaped from Romalia. Futhermore, she investigated and found out that it was conducted with the excuse of “eradicating a contagious disease”.
since there was a change in religion in Romalia, the new religion hunt came to a halt as well. However, the wound in Agnes’s heart will never be healed.
Even though she had put an end to Richmon--The man who accepted bribes from Romalia and made the plans for that incident-- with her own hands, her revenge was still incomplete. The flames of vengeance in Agnes’s heart will not extinguish until all the people who burnt D’Angleterre to ashes are eradicated.
The information bank for the Royal Army is situated at one corner of the eastern part of the Tristian Palace.
Even among the Royal Army, only personal at high positions are allowed to enter this place. In fact, Agnes can be said to have worked hard to prove herself in order to earn the right to enter places like this.
The Musketeer Corps that Agnes leads is one of the few defending squads that will not participate in this battle of conquest against Albion, even though they are imperial guards. In a war like this where the entire country’s strength is immersed into, by right they should participate in the battle as well… But the most crucial reason is that the highest commanding officer for the upcoming battle, de Poitiers, has no pleasant feelings towards them.
Even though the scale of this battle will be small, the position of leader of the imperial guards is equivalent to a general commanding a distant conquest, or even higher. So if the imposing and qualified Musketeer Corps participated in this battle, it is quite likely that de Pointiers achievements would be taken away by them. So the General, who hoped to make marshal, naturally refused to let them participate in the battle. That is to say, all the contributions and achievements would be gathered by him, and he would not tolerate someone above him during military conference meetings.
Besides, Agnes is not even a mage. What can a mere commoner do? De Poitiers has always looked down upon Agnes and her squad.
Of course, the reasoning on the surface was an entirely different story. He put forth a reasonable justification that, “Regarding the Musketeer Corps of the imperial guards, they should naturally do their utmost to protect Her Highness.”
But to Agnes, this was instead a good chance.
Frankly speaking, she did not care about what happened to Albion.
Agnes with such a mindset immersed herself in the information bank of the Royal Army, and after about two weeks, she finally found the document she was searching for. The following words were written on the cover of that document:
“Magical Research Experimental Group”
It was a small group of only around thirty people; it was the squad that destroyed Agnes’s village.
She flipped thru several pages; all the members were nobles.
That guy too? There were names recorded in there that shocked her.
Agnes bit her lips hard, and carefully read through each page. To her dismay, quite a number of these members were already dead.
Reading though it, Agnes was so surprised that she widened her eyes… Immediately following that, her expression became distorted by hatred and displeasure.
This was because the page regarding the leader of the squad was ripped off. It was clear who did this… Yet there was no way to find out who their was leader now.
Unable to find out about the most sinful man;
Agnes’s body began to tremble.
In the town of Rosais which would require two days’ horse ride from the capitol of Albion, Londonium, a group of dangerous looking men appeared.
That is a man with a big patch of burnt scars at the side of his eyes… A squad led by Menvil. Even though it is just a small squad with ten plus people, but that pressuring aura they give off, is comparable to a big squad of heavily armed spearmen.
The leather coats they are wearing are filled with stains, showing what experienced mercenaries they are. Under the coat, each of them are probably holding onto their weapons, as to what their weapons are, it is really hard to guess.
The group came to a smelting stove at an air force factory near the countryside. This is a smelting stove in charge of melting metal to make cannon balls, but now the technicians are all trying hard to come up with strategies. This is because the temperature of the stove cannot be increase any further, lead is still okay, but this temperature cannot melt metal.
“Boss…”
“There is not enough coal, and the wind is weak. What a headache… We must get a hundred cannon balls ready by the afternoon…”
The nagging chats of the technicians could be heard.
Right at this moment, opposite of the direction Menvil’s squad is traveling in, a bunch of trolls appeared. Trolls are humanoids that reside at the northern highlands of Albion, their height can go up to five men.
Even though their numbers aren’t many, but they possess a strong battling desire. Even though war between humans are not of their concern, but as they will be able to use clubs to beat their most hated humans into human paste as much as they want, so they participated in this war as well.
Indeed, they are reliable comrades. Because of their huge size, so they are very useful in a siege. Yet they always act arrogant and almighty no matter where they go, so the soldiers hate them very much. And they always defy orders to act on their own, so no matter how strong of a force they are, but there are a lot of commanding officers who are unable to handle them.
Speaking of which, for trolls like these to gather and move forward in a group of around twenty, that would look like a large forest sprinting ahead. The technicians or marines hurriedly run to the sides, letting this group of trolls pass.
The trolls give off a voice like a tsunami from their thick rough throats, looking at the humans running and hiding at his feet, they open their mouth wide, and their breathing could be heard like a gigantic bellows moving up and down. They are mocking at those small and helpless humans.
This group of trolls stop in their tracks.
That is because a human stands before their path, and that is the group led by Menvil. There is a human brave enough to stand in our path? The trolls find it hard to believe.
The trolls vibrate their bellows like throats, and growled for some time.
“What is that bunch of useless things nagging about?”
Menvil looks disgusted as he asks. Standing beside him, a man with piercing eyes speaks up to report to their leader.
“They are saying “move one side”.”
Menvil orders his subordinate who can understand Troll language.
“You tell them, this land belongs to humans.”
His subordinate says a few lines in Troll language. Once the sentence leaves his mouth, the Trolls agitatedly raises the spiked hammer in their hands.
There is a piece of metal even larger than a cannonball at the tip of the spiked hammer, that is something so powerful it can even smash a solid castle wall in one blow.
To be hit directly by that thing, a human stands no chance of survival.
“Hey, what did you say to them?” Menvil asks.
“Err… Buru, Shubu, Toru, Uuru… Oh shit, I made a mistake. This is the worst insult possible, I am sorry.”
“So that is the reason.” Menvil replies.
One of the furious Troll aims at the group and sends his spiked hammer down.
Menvil uses his left hand to lift his coat taking out the weapon inside, it is a long coarse metal rod. He uses his right hand to hold the metal rod, waving it lightly.
And then he chanted a spell.
A bunch of flames flew off from the metal rod, and wraps onto the arm that the Troll uses to hold the spiked hammer.
In the blink of an eye, that flame melted the Troll’s right arm together with the spiked hammer. The metal piece that was heated red flies off in all directions, but the man beside Menvil carries on to spell-chant, and uses wind magic.
A small tornado engulfs the melted metal, and wraps onto the faces of those Trolls. The red metal scorched their skins, they give off painful mourns.
The fire emerging from the tip of the wand became even stronger.
The surroundings became a sea of flames just like that.
The smell of the burnt Trolls spread in the area.
Under the light from the flames, Menvil shows a cruel smile. He stares straight at the Trolls that are rolling around in pain.
Several minutes later------
Menvil and gang stepped onto the carbonized Trolls and moves on.
“Oh my, what an unbearable stench.”
One of the group members complains.
“What are you talking about.” Menvil says.
“This sweet sent of a living thing burnt to the very end… Is something normal perfume cannot compare with… The best smell there can be.”
The technicians are shivering as they watched how the Trolls are burnt to ashes, stunned. The Trolls’ bodies are mixed with the melted metal pieces. Those are the spiked hammers that the Trolls had in their hands originally.
“Who are those people?... This is steel. To not even need a wind box or stove to melt them into such a state…”
On a destroyer not far from here, Wardes and Fouquet are standing on the deck, waiting impatiently for the arrival of the “goods”.
“It is fifteen minutes past the agreed time. Gee, for someone who cannot even follow time strictly, can they really initiate an operation as tight as a pinhole? This is an occupation assignment, a very troublesome job.”
“Menvil the “White Flames”, is very well known in the mercenary region. It is rumored that he is cruel and sly… and very powerful.”
“No matter, it is hard to have a good impression of someone who came late.”
As the two are chatting about this, they saw Menvil and his men finally reaching this place.
A ladder was let down from the destroyer’s deck.
Menvil and gang climbed up the ship with a burnt meat smell.
“You people, what did you burn before coming over?”
“Just around twenty Trolls.”
Menvil replies as if it was nothing. As hearing him say that, Fouquet’s face pales.
Everyone gathered at the room specially prepared for military conferencing, to discuss over the details of this operation.
The main objective of this operation is to occupy the magical academy.
Cromwell plans to take the students hostage, and use it as a chip in politics, so as to negotiate with the two countries that are allying to attack.
They will pass by Tritian’s patrolling lines, and move straight into the magical academy.
“Even though they are just a bunch of kids, but that is the nest of mages? Will these people be fine?”
Fouquet who had used a huge golem to attack the academy in the past shows her unhappiness to this operation.
“Don’t worry, almost all the teachers are participating in the war, even the male students. There should only be female students left in there.” Wardes says.
“Really?”
“As the viscount has mentioned. That is what is meant to be a noble, what a bunch of troublesome fellows.”
Menvil says with a tone of self mockery.
“You were originally a noble as well?”
“Basically all mages are nobles right? Miss Matilda.”
Hearing him call out her past noble name, Fouquet blushes.
“Oh, am I that famous.”
“Why did you give up your identity as a noble?”
“I have long forgotten the reason.” Fouquet replies unhappily.
Menvil smiles instead, and says.
“I remember very clearly.”
“Is that so…”
Fouquet shows an indifferent smile by the side of her mouth. The number of mages that abandon the title of a noble and become a commoner is not that few. Yet the ends of these people are basically all very similar. They may become criminals like Fouquet… Or become mercenaries like Menvil, anyway it is one or the other. And, most of the people will walk to the end of their lives while regretting their decision.
As for Fouquet, even though she will definitely not admit it… But she have some unrealistic dreams from time to time as well. Like… If she is able to live on as a noble…? Even though she knows very clearly that it is impossible, but sometimes she can’t help but recall… That youthful period where she does not even know about the term “uneasiness”.
As for Menvil, he seems to be the kind to not be fated with that kind of regret. It seems that he is congratulating his choice from the bottom of his heart.
“You seem to like yourself very much.”
Hearing Fouquet’s words, Menvil laughs.
“To me, my current job is the best I can ever have.”
“Why?”
“Because I can burn humans to my heart’s content.”
“Do you hate humans?”
“How can that be, of course I like them, precisely because I like them, I burn them. Don’t you get it? That smell, that smell created by my own flames… Only that smell can get me excited.”
Just like a slug wriggling on her spine, Fouquet feels disgusted from the bottom of her heart.
“I realized that when I was twenty. Then I was still in a certain squad belonging to Tristian.”
The team members gathered here can’t help but look at each other.
Fouquet and Wardes kept quiet.
Menvil began talking about his past events.
It was twenty years ago.
I was a military officer that has just hit twenty years of age, and was set into a squad called “Magical research experimental group”, and the leader was a man who is around the same age as me.
That small group, is the first to be formed only with nobles… An experimental group formed only with mages. No, that is slightly different from a squad of magical guards, that is a group of combatants similar to idols. Viscount Wardes, since you were a leader there before, so you should understand what I mean right? Even though said to be riding a suave mystical beast, to accept cheers from everywhere causing a ruckus is also enviable… But they cannot even pee anywhere, and it is even harder to perform some dirty tasks. Anyway, I will not investigate on why you left that place.
As for us, the “Magical research experimental group” is formed by a group of low class nobles… Hmm, basically we are similar to a group that does all the odds and ends. Basically we are ordered to take care of some things like catching thieves, investigating how attack magic affects the human body, or research on how much damage is done when using area magic in battle.
And in operations to eliminate rioting gangs or suppressing nobles in rural areas and such, we are the fighting force that always gets sent in first.
To those big shots, we should be a very useful team.
Let me tell you, the leader of that team is very strong.
“Leader?” Fouquet asks.
“That’s right.” Menvil nods.
He continues to say.
As I mentioned just now, speaking of that leader… Even though he is only slightly over twenty years old, but he has a lot of guts.
After all he can look indifferent as he burns the enemy to death. I was totally impressed by him then.
But, it was because of that operation that made me totally mesmerized by that leader.
At the west ends of Tristian seaside area, there is a lowdown area called D’Angleterre. That is a poor village with nothing at all. Besides picking up some oysters there, there is nothing of value, it is a lifeless and lonely village.
In the end we received orders, saying that there is a plague going on there, and that the situation is out of control so we are to burn and destroy the village. And this order came from a rather great higher up…
So we hurriedly set off to execute this order.
Our leader is the greatest.
After all, he does not go easy at all.
Whether it is a woman or a child, he will eradicate them all without a care.
He manipulates a flame that is like a tornado, and in a moment the village became a sea of flames.
Because it was at night, the sea reflected the light from the fire, that is really beautiful.
The most notable thing is, that village had no plague at all.
“Then why burn an entire village down?”
“Because of the new religion hunt.”
“New religion hunt?”
“It was due to the pressure Romalia gave. That village hid a woman, a member of the new religion that escaped from that country. And to make things worse, that whole area are all new religion members. So if something like this happens again in the future, it would be problematic, and it was on the way, so might as well burn that whole village down and end things once and for all. Speaking of what plague, that is just an excuse.”
Wardes listens to this past event indifferently. Fouquet on the other hand stares at Menvil, not hiding the unhappiness in her heart at all.
“Okay, just like that, when the suppression mission at D’Angleterre was completed… I was already totally mesmerized by that kind of leader. When I realized I really want o be just like him, I aimed at his back and waved my wand.”
“How incomprehensible, why would someone be so mesmerized he attacks?”
“Actually I do not really understand it myself. Anyway I probably just wanted to verify? Whether that person is indeed worthy to be someone I admire from the bottom of my heart. I though, if he loses against me, then he is not that kind of person.”
“And, what happened then?”
Menvil gives a smile with evil intents, and points to the side of his face that has been burnt out of shape.
“This is the result. That guy is really something, he actually took me down without so much of an effort. So I escaped immediately, after all I waved my wand and attacked the leader, of course I cannot stay in the squad anymore.
“And then?”
”And then things became the way they are now. I originally thought that if I become a mercenary, one day I will meet that leader? But things didn’t go as smoothly as I expected. Not sure if he was killed by who, or if he retired… Ever since that day, I have never heard anything regarding that leader that left this burnt scar on my face. What a pity, I am so much stronger than I was back then. I can create a flame that is hotter than then, and hotter than anyone’s magic…”
Menvil laughs loudly. As if a certain nerve in his mind has snapped suddenly, he laughed loudly.
“Ahh, I really hope to see that guy once more! I want to see him and thank him! I do not regret anything! Be it giving up my title as a noble, or becoming a psycho killer… I regret nothing! But I am unable to thank that leader. This is the only thing that pains me! I want to see him, I really want to see him! This burnt scar screams out like that every night!”
Menvil, as if mad, continues that insane laughter for quite some a while.
| Back to Chapter 4 | Return to Main Page | Forward to Chapter 6 |
