Toaru Hikuushi e no Seiyaku:V6Part2
Part 16 (Part 2 of Volume 6)
At first, Illia thought it was an old blanket discarded by the side of the road. But it was her father.
On the outskirts of the St Vault Empire’s capital, Selfaust, he lay face down, one leg in the roadside ditch, wearing a tattered coat, completely still.
Walking alone on her way home, Illia Kreischmidt gasped and rushed over to help her father up.
"Father...!? Father!!"
Shaking him, her voice trembled with a hint of panic, and finally, his eyelids opened, revealing yellowed eyes.
"…Who… do you think I am… you little brats…!!"
Karsten Kreischmidt glared at Illia up close, his voice harsh and threatening. It seemed he was so drunk that he didn’t even recognize his own daughter, who had returned after a long time away.
His dishevelled long hair was matted with blood. He must have hit his head when he fell, as there was a wound on his temple.
“Father, it’s me, I’ve come home for leave…”
She pressed a handkerchief to the wound on his temple, telling him about her return. After mumbling a few curses, Karsten’s bleary eyes finally focused on his only daughter’s face.
“So it’s you. What are you doing here?”
“I sent a telegram. I just arrived.”
“A telegram? …I don’t care. That doesn’t matter… now help me up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Without even a greeting, he gave her an order. Illia slid her hands under her father’s arms and managed to lift him up. Still with one leg in the ditch, Karsten reeked of alcohol and continued cursing under his breath.
“Those little brats... I know their parents. Twenty years ago, they were the cowards who didn’t even go to war and hid in this backwater town. Now their spawn, those maggots born from filth, dare to mock me...!!”
Karsten’s yellowed eyes, threaded with blood vessels, spewed vulgar words as he insulted the local children.
The woman at the bakery Illia had stopped at earlier had told her about it. Apparently, whenever the local boys saw Karsten going out to buy alcohol, they would taunt and mock him, with some even throwing stones.
Always drunk, his long hair unkempt and his clothes in tatters, Karsten looked just like a homeless man.
The once-great hero, known as the “King of the Skies,” had become the perfect target for bored boys in the suburban neighbourhood.
Supporting her father’s shoulders, Illia bit her lip as she struggled to get him to his feet.
“Let’s go home, Father. I need to treat your wound.”
“This is nothing. Just get me my liquor.”
His hands were shaking.
“Father, you should cut back on the alcohol.”
As she steadied him and began leading him home, Karsten glared at her with eyes like a ghost.
“Since when do you get to tell me what to do?”
“…But…”
“You’re no better than those brats. It’s a hundred years too soon for you to talk back to me.”
Illia fell silent. Arguing with her father would only make things worse.
“Let’s just get home.”
“Liquor, you fool. Go buy some liquor.”
“Please stop shouting. I’ll get it for you...”
The sadness of his pitiful state weighed on her, and her voice grew faint.
Supporting her drunken father, Illia entered a liquor store, bought a bottle of brandy, and returned home for the first time in two years.
The last time she had returned home, things were bad, but this time they were even worse.
Entering the house, Illia set down her bags and sighed as she surveyed the living room.
It seemed no fresh air had been let in for some time, and the stench of stale alcohol filled the air. The kitchen was a mess, with unwashed dishes everywhere, and the table was so cluttered that empty bottles had spilled onto the floor. The hallway was thick with dust, and shoeprints remained visible in it.
“I’ll clean up, Father.”
“Do what you want.”
Karsten sat down on the stairs without even looking at his daughter and shoved the bottle into his mouth, gulping down the contents. His pale face regained a bit of colour.
“What? Got a problem with that?”
Noticing Illia’s silent gaze, Karsten glared at her again.
“Maybe you should cut back on how much you drink.”
Unable to hold back, she spoke again. Karsten’s face twisted in anger.
“Who do you think you’re talking to? Do you know who I am?”
“……………………”
“I’m the man they called the King of the Skies!! In the air, no one could touch me! No matter how experienced they were, they couldn’t even catch a glimpse of my tail!!”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“If you know that, then stop looking at me like that!! Who do you think raised you?!”
“You did, Father.”
The sight of her father clinging to his past glory made Illia want to cry. But she tried her best, weaving together clumsy words to soothe him. The only way to calm him down and take away the alcohol was to let him indulge in the memories of his glory days.
“Never talk back to me again. No one should ever defy me!”
Karsten took another swig of the brandy. In his drunken stupor, memories of past air battles returned, and he could immerse himself in the happy days of his past.
Leaving her father behind, Illia retreated upstairs to her room.
She opened the curtains and looked out at the night slowly creeping across the sky, then turned on the light. Without a moment to rest from her long journey, Illia changed out of her uniform, into her casual clothes, put on a mask, rolled up her sleeves, and went back downstairs to start cleaning.
Her mother had left when Illia was six years old. Her father couldn’t do any housework, so they lived on canned food and bread. While receiving rigorous training to become a pilot, Illia had to teach herself how to manage the household.
She cleaned the sink, stuffed the scattered trash into bags, cleared away the empty bottles, swept the floors, wiped them down, and slowly brought the house back to a state where it could be lived in. After finishing with the living room, she stepped into the study. There, too, newspapers and magazines littered the desk and floor, with empty bottles peeking out from between them.
The condition of the house reflected her father’s deteriorated inner state.
He was always angry, yelling at others, and whenever he drank, he escaped into the past, clinging to the skies where he once reigned as king. Karsten had only ever trained Illia from a young age to become a master of aerial combat, the ace pilot he once was.
As Illia continued cleaning, memories from the past resurfaced.
She had never been treated like a typical girl.
Her hair was cut short, and she was ordered to speak like a man. The only toy she was ever given was the cockpit of an aircraft in the backyard.
While other girls her age were playing house in cute clothes, Illia was forced to grip the control stick and throttle, flying through imaginary skies.
It would be a lie to say that she never felt rebellious as she entered adolescence.
She even harboured resentment toward her father, who had imposed his ambitions on her and given her no choice but to become a pilot.
When she was twelve, she finally reached her breaking point and ran away from home.
Her father, his eyes bloodshot, asked around for information and roamed the neighbourhood, calling her name for three days and three nights, until the police got involved. Illia had taken refuge at a church, and when the priest told her what had happened, she went to the police station to get her father. When Karsten saw her, he struck her with his left arm, and the police had to restrain him. Illia tearfully apologized for her father's behaviour, and together, they made their way home.
On the way back, her father remained silent.
Illia walked behind him, crying the entire way.
She had honestly cursed her misfortune, wondering why she had to be born to such a father. But ever since that day, Illia had never rebelled against him again. For some reason, her father’s back had looked like it was crying.
Illia had a vague sense that her father, too, couldn’t control himself.
The glory of the past, the pitiful present, and the uncertain future were all tormenting him.
Even as a child, she had understood that.
──He’s confused…
As she continued cleaning, nineteen-year-old Illia thought the same thing about her father.
──He can’t accept losing everything in that duel with Sakagami Flight Chief...
──He can’t accept that one defeat...
Her heart ached. Her father seemed so pitiable.
Biting her lip, she continued picking up the scattered newspapers and magazines from the floor. Dusting off the bookshelves filled with military research and war histories, she polished them with a cloth. As she worked, she happened upon a scrapbook tucked in the corner of the shelf.
"…?"
It felt out of place among her father's collection, so she instinctively picked it up and opened it.
“Ah…”
Inside were newspaper clippings about Illia. The faded photographs showed Illia with an awkward smile.
"…!?"
Her heart pounded.
With trembling hands, she turned the pages.
Every step of Illia’s journey since she had entered the Air Hunt Officer Academy had been carefully documented.
Her success in a daring mission behind enemy lines in Eriadore. The outcome of her mock air battle with Kiyoaki. Her defence of Air Hunt Island during Operation Judeka. After graduation, her role in the Voltec Air Squadron during the Battle of Sierra Greed. Newspaper articles and magazine pieces covering every event had been meticulously clipped and preserved.
"Father..."
Her heart felt like it was on fire.
Each time Illia had accomplished something, her father had bought up newspapers and magazines, cut out every article about her, and saved them all.
She could picture him, with only his left arm, carefully cutting out the articles.
"Father..."
Her father wasn’t just drowning in the past.
He was living in the present through Illia.
He was looking forward to her future.
This simple truth filled her with an overwhelming sense of joy.
Illia hugged the scrapbook to her chest.
Her father's true feelings, which could never be conveyed through words or actions, came through clearly in this book. He was clumsy, knowing nothing but how to pilot a plane, and didn’t know how to talk to his daughter, who was so much younger. But he loved her deeply. That was enough for Illia.
"I will become the King of the Skies, Father."
Akmed of the Valkyries, Karnasion of Urano.
One day, she would reach the heights where they soared.
"I will rule the skies."
The scrapbook was still only half-filled. Illia promised herself she would fill every page, to bring joy to her father.
Illia stayed at home for one night. Her leave was short, and considering the time it took to travel back and forth, she couldn’t stay any longer.
Her father woke around noon, eating the bread Illia had bought while grumbling insults about the neighbours, the Akitsu people, and the politicians he disliked, all while continuously drinking. Illia listened silently, nodding along, as he recounted air battle stories she had heard hundreds of times before.
Though she had grown tired of the stories, when she asked him about air combat manoeuvres or how to trap an enemy in an actual battle, her father’s face lit up, and he launched into a lecture with great enthusiasm.
Having experienced real aerial combat herself, Illia understood the depth of her father’s words. His unique theories and philosophy of air combat were something she had never heard from anyone else in the Voltec Squadron.
──He really is the King of the Skies…
Understanding this filled Illia with happiness. Because she had flown in the same skies, she could truly appreciate her father’s greatness.
Her father continued drinking. Each time Illia asked him a question, he proudly expounded on the air combat theories he had developed over the years. She had never spent so much time conversing with her father, just the two of them. Illia was glad she had come home.
Eventually, Karsten passed out drunk on the table in the evening. Illia packed her bags for her return, placed a blanket over her father’s back, left some pocket money on the table, and quietly left the house.
On the way back, she felt a warm sensation in her chest.
She would fight for her father.
Illia had renewed her resolve.
In October of Imperial Year 1349, on the island of Santos, Sierra Greed──
Upon her hurried return to the battlefield aboard a large transport airship, Illia Kreischmidt was greeted by an unfamiliar sight: a new type of fighter aircraft.
Gathered in front of the hangar at Sierra Greed’s First Airfield were her colleagues from the Voltec Air Squadron, all buzzing excitedly as they admired the unusual shape of the fighter. Illia blended into the group, her eyes fixed on the nose of the brand-new silver aircraft.
“So this is a contra-rotating propeller… I’ve never seen one before.”
The four blades of the double propellers evoked the image of a fierce and untameable stallion. According to the explanation, the engine’s output was so powerful that this design was necessary to subdue the air resistance. The wings curved, and from the front, the aircraft’s silhouette formed a W-shape, giving it a futuristic appearance.
“It’s got four 20mm cannons on the wings and two 15mm machine guns in the fuselage. That's some serious firepower. The engine’s a turboprop, so it’s fuel-efficient during cruising and theoretically can approach the speed of sound. No idea how well that’ll work in a fighter, but I guess we’ll find out. The fact that they’re deploying a prototype into combat at this stage probably means someone’s getting nervous about the war ending too soon.”
Senior flight officer Mcguire, a leader among the non-commissioned flying officers, joked, and the surrounding colleagues chuckled. The southern archipelago’s war situation had been progressing far more smoothly than expected, leading to speculation that the aviation technology division had hurriedly pushed the prototype into service, fearing they wouldn’t get enough combat data. The squad members, well aware of these circumstances, eagerly hoped to be chosen to fly the new aircraft. It was a pilot's instinct to want to play with new toys.
“The name’s Beo-Strike F1F. The Empire’s wild stallion. Anyone wanna ride it?”
Mcguire teased, and naturally, everyone present eagerly raised their voices.
“I wanna ride! Me, me!”
“I wanna ride too! I don’t really get how it works, but it looks cool, like something from the future!”
The twin pilots, Lulu and Lala Scott, bounced excitedly, carefree in their joy. After a month of continuous battles, the introduction of a new aircraft brought a much-needed boost to the Voltec Squadron’s spirits.
“Hey, Illia, don’t you wanna ride too? ...Wait, what’s up?”
Lulu, trying to nudge Illia, noticed the strange expression on her face.
“Ah, no… it’s nothing.”
“You don’t look so good. Don’t you like this one?”
“It’s not that… I think it’s a good aircraft.”
Illia tried to cover it up and put on a composed expression, but the more she looked at the new aircraft, the more a sense of foreboding crept into her mind.
──I’ve seen this plane before.
──It’s just like that strange dream...
Illia was recalling something from nearly two years ago when she had conducted the daring mission through enemy lines aboard the Eriadore airship.
While resting on an island during the journey, she had a dream that felt so real it was unsettling.
In the dream, she had flown this aircraft, with a white wolf nose art on the front, over a burning city. She had been crying as she chased down the “Black Rabbit,” closing in for the kill, and then… she fired.
It was just a dream, after all.
But now, the plane from that dream stood before her in reality.
When Illia had carried out her mission aboard the Eriadore, the St Vault Empire and the Akitsu Federation were allied. But now, the two great nations had parted ways and were preparing for an inevitable confrontation.
It was entirely possible that Illia and Kiyoaki Sakagami might face each other as enemies in aerial combat.
A sense of dread flickered at the edges of her mind.
──Will I be flying this plane to fight Sakagami?
As if it had been predestined that they would clash.
Illia clenched her fists.
──Could I really shoot down Sakagami? Could I?
Illia stared into the distant future and silently asked the sky.
Her reflection, distorted by the curve of the Beo-Strike’s wings, appeared agonized.
That night──
While studying the turboprop engine’s manual with the maintenance crew in the hangar, a letter arrived for Illia.
It was from Cecil.
Cecil sent letters almost monthly, so this wasn’t unusual. She decided to read it later when she had some time alone, slipping the letter into the pocket of her work clothes. For now, she focused on helping with the engine maintenance, committing its structure to memory.
After the work was done, Illia thanked the maintenance crew and made her way back to the barracks. On her way, she happened to look up at the stars over Santos Island.
The stars here in the southern archipelago didn’t look much different from those in the north. Until recently, she had been aboard the floating fortress Odin at an altitude of 2,000 meters, where the stars had appeared far more vivid.
The battle to capture Santos Island had only ended two weeks ago.
Using the floating fortress as a base, the St Vault Navy had completely destroyed the island’s air defences and mercilessly bombarded the Hydrabard ground forces from the air. The Hydrabard Navy had been wiped out in the Battle of Sierra Greed, leaving them helpless. Santos Island had fallen to the St Vault Empire so easily it was almost anticlimactic. Now, it was becoming a major military stronghold, with airships and army divisions pouring in from all over.
Securing Santos Island allowed St Vault to control the southern and northern seas across the vast Daibaku Straits, and the island itself boasted coastal artillery installations with concrete defences, several docks, and a naval port capable of housing super-dreadnought battleships. If St Vault was to dominate the southern archipelago, maintaining and developing Santos Island was absolutely crucial.
However, the eyes of the island’s inhabitants watching the St Vault soldiers were dark and cold.
Since the destruction of the Sylvania royal family seven years ago, the island had been ravaged by war, with different rulers coming and going. The hearts of the islanders were deeply scarred and weary. They had no reason to feel anything but hostility toward the St Vault forces, who had burned the land with overwhelming airstrikes and were now flooding in, occupying their homeland and summoning more troops.
When conquering a territory, the most important task is to win over the local populace.
When the locals view their conquerors favourably, the economy in the occupied region runs more smoothly. Markets and transportation operated by the locals become safe to use, and the locals can inform the occupiers of outsiders and new arrivals, making it harder for enemy agents to infiltrate. The locals, with their homes spread across the island, can serve as an invaluable information network, providing early warnings of enemy movements. Coastal residents could be taught how to use radios to alert the military of incoming enemy planes and their flight paths. Similarly, equipping fishermen with radios could help track enemy naval forces patrolling nearby waters. And if an enemy pilot parachuted onto the island after being shot down, friendly locals might capture them and bring them to the nearest base.
By winning over the local population, life in the war zone becomes safer and more efficient. Enemy espionage efforts can be thwarted, and crucial intelligence becomes more accessible. Even if the territory is lost, locals sympathetic to St Vault might leak information, aid in resistance operations, or form guerrilla groups to disrupt enemy occupation. In a region like the archipelago, where numerous islands are scattered across a vast sea, the loyalty of the inhabitants of key islands can have a decisive impact on the outcome of the war. This is why the operations command was scrambling to pacify the population of Santos Island.
──If I recall, Balthazar is the officer in charge of handling the pacification of Santos Island’s residents…
Last month, since helping Kiyoaki Sakagami and Kagura escape from prison, there had been no word from Balthazar. Given that he wasn’t the type to keep in touch regularly, Illia wasn’t worried, though she assumed they were likely on the same island. Still, the complete lack of any news was a little unsettling.
After all, Balthazar had been the mastermind behind Kiyoaki’s jailbreak, an act that violated military law.
Illia couldn’t help but worry whether the military police were closing in on Balthazar.
Ever since word got out about Kiyoaki’s escape, the Voltec Air Squadron had been investigated by military police. Illia herself had been questioned but, as she had coordinated with Leo and the others beforehand, she was able to cover up their involvement by claiming they had all been drinking together on the night of the incident. The military police seemed unsatisfied with the explanation, but it was clear that someone from command had intervened, preventing them from conducting a more thorough investigation. Rumour had it that the former Sylvania royal family was somehow connected to the case, and with the Operations Command eager to accelerate the pacification efforts on Santos Island, it seemed they were keen to sweep the matter under the rug.
──I just hope this doesn’t interfere with Balthazar’s duties…
With that concern lingering in her mind, Illia returned to the women’s officers’ barracks and finally opened the letter from Cecil.
The letter was only a single sheet. Short, for a letter from Cecil.
But the content shocked Illia.
"Dearest Illia,
How are you? I’m doing well. Every day, I pray that you’re safely flying in the skies.
This may come as a surprise, but I’ve withdrawn from the Selfaust Officer Academy.
There were only five months left until graduation, but due to various reasons, I had no choice but to leave.
I can’t explain why right now.
And I can’t tell you about what comes next, either.
For the time being, I also can’t give you my new contact information.
The next time I see you, I think I’ll be in a very different position than I am now.
It’s not that I was deceiving anyone, but there’s a secret I’ve been keeping from everyone, a secret that I must now confront.
But please believe me when I say that I truly cherish the bond of the "Seven of Eriadore," and I always hold the promise we made close to my heart.
I’ve kept that promise until now, and I’ll continue to do so in the future.
We’ll be apart for a while, but I’m sure we’ll meet again.
Until then, stay safe, Illia. Please don’t do anything reckless. Always think about your own safety when you fly.
I’ll keep doing my best so that all seven of us can meet again with smiles on our faces.
Your friend, Cecil Hauer."
After reading the letter, Illia stared blankly at the page for a while before reading it twice more.
She couldn’t understand.
“Cecil… quit Selfaust?”
Cecil was a fourth-year student and the top of her class. She had poured herself into her studies every day and was well on her way to securing a position at Operations Command after graduation. She was just months away from achieving that, yet why had she thrown it all away and quit?
“What’s this secret…?”
Illia had known Cecil for seven years, ever since they met in the gymnasium. Cecil was always cheerful and energetic, and she never seemed like someone carrying such a heavy burden.
As Illia pondered this, she suddenly remembered Balthazar’s words during the prison break operation last month.
“Cecil asked me to lead this extraction operation, so I have no choice but to take command. Any objections?”
Balthazar had said this when they were planning the operation with Reiner and Illia. At the time, they had been too focused on rushing the plan to question it, but now Illia wondered why Balthazar held Cecil’s request in such high regard.
──Could Cecil’s resignation and the jailbreak be connected?
There were other odd details too, such as the Akitsu Federation sending a submarine to pick up Kiyoaki and Kagura. Illia felt that something much larger, something invisible to her, had been moving behind the scenes of that jailbreak. Perhaps Cecil’s “secret” was hidden in that very flow.
Illia read the letter one more time, then put it away in her desk drawer. No matter how much she speculated, she couldn’t find the answers right now.
“She says we’ll meet again… someday.”
For now, she would have to believe Cecil’s words. When they met again, the answers would likely come to light.
Illia opened the curtains and looked up at the stars outside.
Her scattered friends, wherever they were, might be looking at the same stars right now.
Even though she couldn’t see them, and even though some were in unknown locations, they were surely walking their own paths, grappling with their own struggles and pain.
And one day, when their separate paths crossed again──what would happen?
A chill ran through her thoughts.
──Even if we become enemies, we will not hate each other.
She repeated the vow in her heart, as if to ward off the bad premonition.
──Friendship is eternal...
Illia sent her silent vow to the distant friends who, somewhere, were likely looking up at the same stars.
