MaruMA:Volume05:Chapter5

Chapter 5

Sir Norman Gilbit, feudal lord of Gilbit, the autonomous region of Caloria, territory of Shou Shimaron, appeared on the scene with a middle aged butler in tow.

The impact of meeting my first human feudal lord was simply too strong. If you ask just how severe it was, it was enough to make immediately forget about pointing out that they were petite or delicate or asking if that was a braid.

He was not a man in an iron mask, but-

"Norman... are you a Maskman!?"

It was definitely shiny silver and it definitely covered his entire head. However, with its soft material being tied in the back with leather straps, it was less of a mask and more of a hood.

"P-pleased to meet you, Mr. Feudal Lord Maskman."

I stood up to shake his hand, but my voice ended up breaking in my shock. His thin, cold fingertips were so soft it ruled out a life containing any sort of physical labor. I felt bad gripping them with my callused and knobby hand.

Because of his weird outer appearance, I felt like I was standing before an opponent in the ring. And a square table might be nothing unusual, but why did we have to sit right on the corners? Which was the red corner and which was the blue corner?

The middle-aged, mustached butler spoke to us from behind the feudal lord.

"You have surely already heard about the matter of the mask. My lord has spent his entire life since childhood in this guise. And if that weren't bad enough, ever since an unlucky accident three years ago, he hasn't been able to speak with a normal voice... For this reason, please forgive that my humble self will take the liberty to converse with you in this fashion."

"I don't really mi-"

"What a coincidence!"

Startled, I turn towards Mr. Image-Change who suddenly interrupted me. This Japanese boy with his fake blonde hair and his fake blue eyes is cheerfully piling on the lies.

"Actually, our Captain Crusoe here also injured his throat and eyes in the bathroom! Oh dear, even cleaning the bathroom is life-threatening! You should always pay attention to 'Danger, do not mix!'"

Captain!? You're full of crap!

"Oh, you look so young yet you're already a captain..."

"Yes, he's a super-elite that's gone career. But, even though he's young his hair is a bit troubling. We're quite worried about his male hormones."

Super-elite!? You're extra full of crap!

"So even though he looks like a bank robber today, please excuse the hat and sunglasses. Ah, but don't they look good together, Mr. Maskman and my Captain?"

You're totally full of crap... what are you talking about looking good together, Murata?

Well anyway, it was decided that we were going to lie about who I was before we came in here. There were still a few problems with me meeting Norman Gilbit.

1. In order to not reveal my black hair and eyes, I couldn't take off my sunglasses or hat.

2. It can't be made known that I am mazoku, never mind the Maou.

3. In order for him to not be angered that I am not a descendant of the Wincotts, we'd have to come up with a good excuse. Or maybe we should continue deceiving him to the end and let ourselves get pampered?

And why was the mazoku family von Wincott respected in this country in the first place? In other places, I've had rocks thrown at me for just having my black hair seen.

Using up all of my patience, Murata had created this convoluted act like we were in Project X before Maskman had come in.

"So, you saved a town from an epidemic a long time ago. Like, maybe you helped build a tunnel? How about if the narration, by Tomorowo Taguchi, goes something like 'Winsan's thoughts were, 'It can't go on like this.'?'"

That's stupid.

"Ah, but you were using a fake name. Can I use your real name this time? I won't ask why you couldn't use your name. Besides, I went along with it and went by Robinson. We're in the same boat."

"You'd be fine with your own name."

"What's up with that? We're friends, aren't we? This is friendship! You can leave everything to Muraken-kun. If you're going to lie about who you are, it's better for that story to be completely different than reality. A baseball-loving high school student like you isn't suited to be the descendant of a famous family. How about a doctor? The Young Medic. Think you can pull that off? No, huh. Then I guess we'll leave it up to the whims of the chef or-"

"H-help me out here, Muraken-kun. Are you having fun with this? Actually, did you always have a cheerful personality!?"

Murata swept up his bangs and grinned happily from the bottom of his heart.

"Hmm, it seems getting set adrift makes people adventurous."

I don't know who he is anymore.

The banquet room was a bit chilly when we were having that conversation, but now the fireplace had been lit. It might have been because it was an area where the temperature rapidly fell at night, but the room was comfortable without being overly hot. The floor was cold marble, but the walls were lined with expensive silver and gold tapestries. On the ceiling that looked like the bottom of a bowl, frolicking angels were painted.

'This is the very definition of a noble's house!' is what I felt like. I couldn't compare it in terms of design, but from what I can see, a lot more money has been spent on the interior than Blood Pledge Castle.

We’d been waited on by young girls that seemed like maids up to the point when the master of the house had taken the stage. I almost thought I was in a family restaurant where the staff were perfectly trained when they not only served us tea and cakes, but they gave us damp towels while wearing their cute costumes.

The both of us are totally smitten.

"They're cute, huh. Maids are great."

"Yeah, I love their backs. Their apron strings are tied in a bow. It's completely different than our naked apron look."

"They're healing my eyes, they're healing my eyes. I wonder if I can take one home," Murata says as he wipes even his neck with the damp towel.

"... Murata, are you really an old man?"

However, that only lasted until Norman Gilbit appeared. We'd suffered a one-hit KO by the shiny silver Maskman who entered with his manager.

We'd been told that a meal would be served soon, but according to my loyal travel companion, the Digital/Analog G-Shock, it was already 9 o'clock. The fact that there was still going to be a meal served at this hour indicated that Norman was the type of guy who would see a night baseball game all the way through to the end. At least on that point, we seemed to be on the same wavelength.

Appetizers and aperitifs were carried in. As was to be expected, the liquid poured into our high-stemmed glasses was a drink that would have to wait until after I was twenty. Miss, water, can I get some water please? Thin slices of a star-shaped object were laid upon beautiful plates with gold designs.

It's probably starfruit. It's surely starfruit. It's starfruit, right?

"That's starfish!"

"... What a delicacy."

My voice was tearful.

After the introductions and a lengthy exchange of pleasantries, the middle-aged butler who called himself Baker spoke up. He's more of a Beard than a Baker. He reminds me of a bearded seal.

"Please forgive my rudeness, but what relation does Lord Crusoe have with the Wincott family?"

"Ah, the late mother of our Captain here had Wincott blood in her veins."

I jabbed Murata in the side with my elbow.

"My mom's is not dead!" I protested quietly.

"It's fine."

It's not fine. However, my aide Robinson sure was chatty and not paying any mind to the grievances of the person he's talking about. I repeated in my head 'the events depicted in this story are fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental.'

"She died just before the Captain was born and the Captain was raised in a different place so they have never met in person, but one day he met someone who'd known his mother. That man said that this object belonged to Shib- to our Captain Crusoe."

Wait, Murata. How exactly would she have died before I was born? Beard acted as if he hadn't even heard that slip of the tongue and repeats the words that his master whispered to him.

"This woman of Wincott blood... what was her name?"

"Julia."

"Guhieeeh?!"

Under the table, I received a kick in the shin and I quickly clapped my hands over my mouth. That's right, we're saying that my throat was injured. But Murata, what did you say!? What did you say the woman's name was!?

"Ah, our good Captain. Even just hearing the name of his beloved mama causes him to be overcome with emotion and he makes strange noises."

Beard shook his head as if to say not to worry. I got the feeling there was a sympathetic expression in his eyes.

"So? We've explained his relationship with the Wincott family, but are you going to explain your side of the matter now?"

The feudal lord pair held a long whispered conversation, then the middle-aged butler began to speak.

He's been doing most of the talking, but as it stands, he's pretty much a paid actor.

"I'm not sure if it would be the wish of the dead for me to tell you this, but very well... the original rulers of this land were the Wincott family that your esteemed late mother is related to."

Excuse me? Lady Susanna Julia had been mazoku, a member of the ten noble houses of Shin Makoku, and her name was ancient and prestigious.

“That being said, this was a few thousand years ago. The present Caloria-... of course, at the time it was called a different name. The Wincott family ruled over this region and the people. They fought against the ancient Soushu who wanted to devour our world and they were a member of a great race that allowed our world to continue to exist. But then something changed and they gradually began to oppress the citizens and eventually forced insane domination upon them.”

Soushu... I'd heard that term before. The continuation would be '...with their power.' And then there was something about the 'the wise and courageous mazoku live in prosperity after defeating' them. Don't mind me, it's part of the proper name of my kingdom.

Middle-aged Beard to his master Norman Gilbit and asked with a questioning look whether he should continue the story. The silver mask gave a small nod.

"... The people rose up against the outrageous tyranny fought for a new age and better rulers. The result was the establishment of Caloria. As you surely already know, that family traveled the world after that searching for a new home and became mazoku in the westernmost lands."

I absolutely had no idea whatsoever.

Then mazoku weren't actually just born as mazoku but suddenly become mazoku at their journey's destination? The catchphrase should be 'Hey, let's go mazoku!' A calm afternoon on a sunny day is 'perfect mazoku weather.'

"Because of this, the people of Caloria and the Wincott family have deep historical ties, but the past is the past. It's been an unimaginable amount of time, but surely our bad relations have been resolved. Caloria wants to make reparations. We do not wish to pass on ill will to the future."

In a voice that sounded like he didn't want anyone to hear, Murata murmured, "... Is there someone who would believe that history..?"

Beneath that blue surface, there are the same black, Japanese eyes that I have.

"Do you really think anyone is going to believe that idiotic tale?!"

I was shocked thinking 'what was my friend saying?!' for a moment. However, the angry objection didn't belong to Muraken sitting next to me, but to a new guest that opened the door so energetically it was like he kicked it down.

Everyone's gaze turned that way at once. The guests were a group of seven, but upon closer inspection, four or five of the ones clinging to waists and arms were soldiers from this estate and only the last two were the real guests. On even closer inspection, there were many differences in the appearance of those two- uwah!

I turned my face away from the door in a huge panic and refocused on Norman Gilbit. It's not like I want to gaze at Maskman. I just didn't want to face the new guests.

"The people revolted because the Wincott family forced insane domination upon them?! Nonsense! As soon as the people were saved from the threat that faced the world and the fighting was over, the Wincotts were disposed of. After we were used as much as we could be and peace settled in, the people started to fear our magic. Humans all think the same. Everything different than themselves is to be eliminated... No matter how dirty the means are. Reconciliation? Ill will? Don't make me laugh!"

"Please forgive us, Sir Norman! We tried to stop them!"

It was an impressive sight, watching the soldiers dangle off the two men. The power of these two who shook them off, or rather dragged them along, should be praised. As soon as I saw one of them, my traumas were activated.

Blonde, blue eyes, manly. Chest, large hands, muscle-packed shoulders. Roman nose, split chin, Denver Broncos. Traitor, old enemy, anti-mazoku. Weller, von Wincott, von Grantz.

Aaa... dalbert.

I don't want to remember his name! It's not Dalbert, though!

In an effort to evade him, I tried to concentrate on the one in the duo who wasn't yelling. His haircut was pretty original with his hair in a ponytail and cropped short on the sides. His dark brown facial hair was trimmed very precisely so that it formed a design on his pale cheeks and chin. The long, thin strip connecting his beard with his sideburns is something I've seen a lot of on foreign baseball players and wrestlers lately. In a way it's a 'cropped ponytail.' Abbreviated to a cuter form: Crop-Pony.

Maybe because he's keeping his cool, but he gives the strong impression of a sharpened weapon more so than someone who is strong or masculine. If I had to put it into words, his narrow, single fold eyes showed an apathy and disinterest that did not allow others to read his emotions.

"Sir Maxine, on such a night... what exactly are you-"

"Stay as you are."

Crop-Pony holds out his hand to stop Butler Baker as he was about to get up and then moves to stand in front of Norman Gilbit. In other words, he was standing right next to me.

The Gilbit-team in front of me looked tense, Crop-Pony at my side had a cold smell, the ex-mazoku behind me was smoldering in rage, and I felt an ambiguous warmth from my companion next to me.

I started to want to grab Murata's sleeve.

"So, Sir Norman Gilbit," said Maxine in a dry and dour voice, but it can still pass for being in the 30's even if you round up. If he was a normal human being. His method of speaking was intentionally restrained and slow in order to intimidate. "We in Shou Shimaron have heard a worrisome rumor. Of course, it is a rumor that has not been verified and is so incredibly absurd that it is not worth believing. For the time being, at least."

"Sir Maxine, my master is dining with gue-"

"I have not asked for the butler's opinion." With a quick wave of his hand, a glass broke on the floor. That was my aperitif. "... Forgive me. I unintentionally became agitated."

It wasn't 'unintentionally' but absolutely intentional. I couldn't even react to his apology. Since he's probably not sorry at all it won't be rude if I don't respond.

"We came to hear from Sir Norman Gilbit himself. We are hoping this is all a needless endeavor, but depending on the circumstances, you may have to come to the motherland and explain yourself. Sir Gilbit, is it a fact that you have espoused ideas that run counter to Shimaron's will? Is it true that you have conceived of a plan to avoid starting a war with the mazoku?"

Feudal Lord Gilbit whispered something to Baker and the butler's chair creaked as he rose.

"Never have we even considered such-"

"It is difficult to discern truth from lies when one cannot look a man in the eyes."

Norman's shoulders shook dramatically at that cold and disdainful comment.

"I know that you have lost your voice and I find it regrettable that you fell ill in childhood, but luckily there are no ladies that would faint at the sight of pock-marks or abscesses. Are you saying that you can not remove that boorish silver mask and carry a conversation man to man."

"Sir Maxine, that is simply too much!"

The butler was in a panic and Maskman was tense. There would be no shame or honor in whatever needed to be done to break up this oppressive atmosphere.

I should just cry and yell in a louder voice than a girl 'Waah! I'm such coward that I'll faint from the shock if you take the mask off!'

There was only one problem: while the Maxine vs. Norman match was playing on a different channel, the Ex-Mazoku behind me vs. Shibuya Yuuri match was already in progress. If von Grantz Adalbert, the American Football Macho who rooted around in my brain that one time, caught wind of me, I'd be laid out on the floor in the blink of an eye. He hated the mazoku and had tried to kill the rookie Maou, after all.

"Or is there perhaps another reason why you can't remove that mask?"

A quick glance to my right showed me that there wasn't the slightest hint of tension in this man's fingers. His hand wasn't wrinkling the table cloth, nor were there any spots that had turned white from exerting any strength.

This human from Shou Shimaron, Maxine, would flip any switch if he needed - without even a smile, brown eyes completely devoid of emotion.

This man was dangerous.

In some ways, more so than Adalbert.

"So, Sir Norman, let's hear you speak."

... Those jokes that completely ignore the mood are dangerous too.

I wasn't sure if Murata would understand what I meant, but I grabbed his hand as a signal to him. He quickly pulled away. 'Iyan?' Don't go 'iyan.'

To have your mask removed in the ring and have your true face shown to the world is a Maskman's greatest embarrassment.

That would be the end of their wrestling career. In order to save him from that pitiful fate, I'd do something super embarrassing myself.

When those thin, cold fingers touch the leather bands of his mask, that will be my signal to go.

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