Slayers Special Volume 2: Little Princess - Slayers EX: Little Princess 2

Credits

INCLUDE THIS SECTION UNALTERED IF YOU TRANSLATE THIS TO OTHER LANGUAGES

Sureiyasu Supesharu 2 – Ritoru Purinsesu by Hajime Kanzaka.

Illustrations by Rui Araizumi.

Originally published by Kadokawa on March 16, 1992.

This translation is based on the updated eBook version released on August 2, 2012.

English translation by H. Berry

Cleaned color illustrations by Arturo Songor (@artson593)

Slayers EX: Little Princess 2

 

“Someone help! Help meeee!”

Crossing a forest road, I heard the urgent cry of an old man.

“It’s no use, old man, no one’s coming!” a vulgar male voice sneered back.

A normal, weak-willed traveler might pretend not to hear. But I, Lina Inverse, am different. Without hesitation, I sprinted toward the voices.

Bandits roughing up a traveler? Perfect. Rescue them and collect a reward.

The sounds were close.

An old man with pure white hair slumped on the ground. A wicked-looking man, sword drawn, stalked toward him, while two more thugs struggled to pin down a young girl.

“That’s enough!” I shouted, charging the old man’s attacker.

“Huh?” The bandit raised his blade.

I drew my short sword and met his.

 

Clank!

 

The clash echoed through the forest. Using the momentum, I spun, scooped up the old man, and slammed my sword hilt into the bandit’s jaw.

He groaned, reeled back, and collapsed.

Typical weak thug.

“Don’t move!” I snapped at the other two.

Damn. They had the girl in a chokehold, blades to her throat, a common, if effective, tactic.

“Help me!” the girl screamed.

A petite blonde

…huh?

“If you move, she dies!” One of them barked.

Ignoring the threat, I dashed forward.

“H-hey! Don’t—!”

“How dare you show your face in front of me agaaaaain!” My jumping kick flattened all three.

 

On a small, nameless village along the blue highway.

“Sorry… I just… slipped…” I sat in the corner of a restaurant, apologizing over and over, to Raymia.

The real one this time.

Once, I was thoroughly duped by her impostor, so I assumed she was a fake again… and ended up kicking the real princess in the face.

Isn’t that funny?

Normally this would end with a laugh, but no. She’s the daughter of a local lord, and worse, her assistant is right there, looking murderous.

“Do you think you’re getting away just by saying sorry?” the old man thundered, veins bulging. Too old to be assisting a young girl, yet she introduced him as her aide.

Raymia herself sat across from me, twirling a fake rose as if trying to look dignified. The footprints on her face ruined the effect.

Neither of them looked remotely royal, probably traveling incognito.

“The person you kicked is the daughter of Duke Turadia, entrusted with sovereign territory! And you struck her silly face! If those marks don’t fade, Lady Raymia… Lady Ramia, will have to look like that forever!”

“…Silly face? What exactly do you mean by that?”

The old man bowed so fast it was a blur as Raymia’s eyes narrowed. “Please forgive Cranbe. He spoke nonsense.”

“That’s fine. But more importantly, be kind to her. And don’t call me princess so loudly, we are on a secret trip, remember?”

“Yes… as you wish.”

Nice. Maybe I’ll avoid punishment after all.

“I’m very sorry, Princess.” I bowed.

For once, this really was my fault.

“By the way…” She studied me. “You seem to be a sorceress.”

“Even a cat could tell.”

“What was that?”

“N-nothing, Princess!”

“I noticed your skill. I’d like to ask a favor.” She flicked the rose from under the table.

“Ahhh…” I really, really didn’t want to hear more. But with my footprints on her face, refusing wasn’t an option.

“I’d like you to act as our escort.”

“Escort? If you need protection, why not travel with soldiers or something?”

The real Princess Raymia would.

Mental note: stay suspicious. The aide could be fake too. Still, without proof she’s an impostor, I had to play along.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t like soldiers, but… my family’s economic situation is rather tight.”

“P-Princess! Don’t say things like that—”

“It’s fine. She should know our situation.” Cranbe flailed, but Raymia ignored him.

Honestly, her finances aren’t my problem.

She produced another fake rose. “As you may have heard, a traitorous minister committed heinous crimes in our city…”

Oh, I've heard plenty.

“…Because of the strange golems he unleashed, the town suffered terrible damage, draining the funds needed to rebuild…”

…Really? W-what a shame, right?

“Must’ve been tough… haha…” I forced a smile, sweat prickling.

And Naga just picked the worst time to disappear!

“Yes… the minister denied everything until the end. Because of that we can’t afford soldiers. Only Cranbe remains. I, a princess, have to work part-time making artificial flowers just to survive…” She attached a leaf to the rose with green tape, tears welling.

I see…

Cranbe patted her shoulder. “Princess… you mustn’t cry. Poor people look pathetic when they cry…”

“…Are you trying to make me mad?”

“N-no! I misspoke!”

This guy’s only here because he can’t land another job, isn’t he?

“Anyway, we’re barely scraping by…”

No kidding. Who lives off fake flowers?

“I have no choice but to ask for a loan from my uncle, Duke McGarell of Figaro City…”

“I see… sounds difficult.” I nodded politely.

“So please help us! I can’t pay you now, but once we arrive, I’ll reward you plenty! If that’s not enough, I’ll massage your shoulders! I’ll even make you tea!”

“Princess… you shouldn’t beg—”

“Stop complaining and bow too!”

The two of them started sobbing.

Of course, I couldn’t refuse.

 

The trip went… surprisingly smoothly.

Sure, Raymia got caught twice for dine-and-dashing, the old man “misspoke” his way into a few fistfights, and we were ambushed by thieves more than once. But you don’t need to know the details

Point is, we made it to Figaro City in one piece.

The place is about the size of Tyrell City, yes, which Naga and I… ehm, visited previously.

Downtown feels worn and tired, but the mansions near the castle gleam like they’re trying to blind you. The wealth gap might as well be a canyon.

Naturally, we headed straight for the castle. Not like Raymia could afford to stop anywhere else.

“Stop! Who goes there?” Two guards blocked the gate.

Raymia stepped forward, chin high and voice regal. “I am Raymia Ul Turadia, daughter of the Lord of Tyrell, Radius von Turadia!”

“You’re lying!”

“…” Raymia blinked, speechless.

“How can you say that!?” Old man Cranbe’s forehead veins popped.

“How could a princess travel in rags with no escort? And we’ve had no notice of any royal visit!”

I leaned toward Raymia and whispered. “...you didn’t contact your uncle first?”

“I couldn’t afford a messenger!”

Fair.

“What’s all this noise?” A new voice cut in.

The man who appeared wore decorated armor that screamed important. Square jaw, short hair, built like a fortress.

“C-Captain Barrel,” one soldier stammered.

I spoke first. “Commander, you might want to train your subordinates better.”

He eyed me, amused. “Big attitude for such a small chest.”

Annoying.

“A-ah, these people are claiming to be the princess of Tyrell and her party…”

Barrel barked a laugh, flipping copper coins from his pocket.

“You idiot. They’re beggars. If we treated every wild claim seriously, we’d never finish a shift. Here.” He tossed a coin at our feet. “Take some charity and move along.”

“Don’t look down on me!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Say that again, little girl?”

“I said don’t look down on me! Throwing coins to crush someone’s pride is pathetic. And Raymia, don’t you dare pick those up!”

“Lina…”

“What?”

“Don’t say that when you’re picking the coins too!”

…Right.

“Well, can’t let money go to waste. Anyway, ‘Raymia’, any proof you’re actually you?”

“I have a letter from my father!” She dug through a box of fake flowers. “Not this… not this… hmm. Maybe I pawned it for travel money—oh! Here it is! I used it as a glue stand.”

Is she for real?

She handed the half-glued letter to Barrel.

“If you deliver this to Duke McGarell, he’ll confirm everything.”

Barrel paled, squinting at the mangled parchment. “I… I’ll check it out.”

As he reached to open it, I said. “Opening a letter from a lord to another lord without permission. That’s something illegal, isn’t it?”

He froze. “Y-you all wait here!” Then bolted inside.

 

We waited. And waited.

Eventually, Duke McGarell himself arrived, soldiers in tow. Barrel was conspicuously absent.

“Forgive the delay.” Duke McGarell’s expression showed he was not sorry at all.

Soon we were seated in a cramped dining room, nine of us around a table groaning with food: the duke, his five unremarkable sons, Raymia, Cranbe, and me.

The duke looked about forty, thin and a bit shabby, his small moustache only making it worse. The meal matched the decoration, plentiful but plain, the kind of fare that says you’re not really welcome.

Not that Raymia or Cranbe noticed.

“Look! Salad with dressing!”

“Ohhh, a fish bigger than my hand!”

“Is that chicken? If only I could take some home…”

Pathetic.

“Please, eat before it cools.” Needless to say, Raymia and the old man were already eating.

He waited for them to slow down before continuing. “Sending your only daughter on such an errand, your father must be troubled.”

“Yes… it is embarrassing.” Raymia mumbled, stuffing chicken into her pockets.

Embarrassing indeed.

“I’ll provide the amount your father requested.”

As I said before, judging by the food, it doesn't seem like we’re really welcome, which is only to be expected as we showed up unannounced and asked for a huge loan.

“Really!?”

“Yes, but not as a loan.” his tone sharpened.

I tilted my head. Generous… maybe too generous.

Cranbe set down his bread, wiping sauce from his plate. “We cannot accept such charity. It would shame my lord.”

“I see.” McGarell looked pained.

Nobles and their pride. Personally, I’d taken the money and run.

“But I can’t simply retract my offer. Hmm… How about this? You do something for me. A task in exchange for money. That way we both save face.”

“What kind of task?” Raymia asked.

“…I’m not sure yet.” he admitted.

Of course.

“You’ll do something for me, and the reward will be the money.”

“In that case.” Cranbe nodded vigorously. “We gladly accept.”

 

The job sounded almost insultingly simple.

A small, half-forgotten fortress sits on the shore of a northern lake. Our mission: deliver a letter to the old man who lives there, a retired aide.

The road had once been crawling with bandits, but the duke supposedly wiped them out.

Four days out and back. Easy.

Should have been.

“W-what the—!?”

Raymia whipped toward me, eyes wide. “What happened? Did you drop your wallet?”

Is money the only thing in her head?

“No! I feel murderous intent.”

A low chuckle drifted through the trees. “Heh… good instincts, young lady.”

“Show yourself! Or are you scared of just the three of us?”

“Big mouth, fine. Everyone, come out.”

Figures stepped from the shadows. And kept stepping.

Ten… fifteen… twenty. Maybe thirty in total, all in matching plate mail and full-face helmets, long swords glinting. Their movements were tight.

Soldiers.

“Hmph. I don’t know what you want, but we have no money to give!” Raymia declared, hands on hips.

Technically, she does, the duke gave us some for travel expenses.

“I’m not giving you anything!” She added.

A man at their head shook his helmeted head. “We’re for your money. We want the letter.”

Cranbe’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”

“No need to answer. Hand it over and you live. We’ll even pay.”

“Here you go!”

“Raymia!” I hissed. “We don’t get paid if we don’t deliver it!”

“Yes, very disloyal.” the leader said, oddly approving.

“Oh. Right. Then… No!” She yanked the letter back.

“Hmph…fine. I was hoping you’d just hand it over…”

“You don’t make sense.”

 “Shut up! You’re done!” At his command, all the men drew their swords at once.

 

“That was easy.”

“But the way they escaped was impressive.”

“Heh. Scooped up their wounded and vanished.”

We were holed up in a small-town inn that night, dinner plates littered with fried crab claws. Conversation naturally circled back to our attackers.

“Why did they want the letter? And how did they know we had it?” Raymia asked around a mouthful of crab.

“An information leak.”

“What do you mean, Lina?”

I swallowed. “Think about it. How else could they know? Maybe Duke McGarell has a spy in his inner circle.” I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “Suppose he’s in a standoff with another lord. Maybe on the brink of war.”

“Could it be—” Raymia also lowered her voice. “He wants to get in touch with a person, or maybe some organization, but couldn’t act carelessly because of the spy. And so that’s why we’re—”

“Couriers?” Old man Cranbe leaned forward.

“Maybe we’re just the decoys.” I continued. “Someone else carries the real message while the enemy tracks us.”

“No way… the duke said the money was unconditional.” Raymia protested.

I wagged a finger. “Don’t be naive. Do you really think a lord just hands over a fortune to a distant relative out of kindness? He’s not that close to your family.”

“Hm…” They both hummed in unison, thoughtful.

“But don’t worry about it too much. From our point of view the course of action is simple. We just have to deliver the letter.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry. With me here, no matter how many come, they won’t be a problem.”

Raymia and Cranbe still looked uneasy. Not surprising, they don’t know what I can do.

“Whatever the duke’s game is, we can’t turn back now.”

“That’s true, but…”

“Then onward!” Cranbe declared. “Tomorrow afternoon we reach the lake. Maybe another attack, but the worst that happens is we die! Second worst, Lady Raymia, you’ll have to ask Lord Flaon to adopt you!”

“…Why do you keep bringing that up?”

“Ah, um…”

“Who’s Flaon?”

“My cousin.” Raymia raised a hand to swat Cranbe. “His parents died long ago. He’s the only other heir besides me.” A shadow crossed her face.

“What’s the matter?”

She sighed. “Remember how I said the minister plotted something when my father was to inherit his current position?”

“Yeah.”

“The minister’s plan was to remove my father and appoint Flaon as lord, then act as his assistant while in reality, he’d be the true head of state…”

A typical puppet government.

“Flaon himself had nothing to do with it, but after the minister’s plan failed and the truth came to light, some people started to gossip about him, saying he was true mastermind… Perhaps unable to bear it, he renounced his right to succession and left the castle… it must’ve been hard on him, he’s a very sensitive person.” She blushed slightly.

Oh?

“Hey, Cranbe.” I whispered. “Raymia and Flaon…?”

“That’s right. But he’d never chase a crazy girl like her.”

“…A what?”

“Whoa! Did I say that out loud? Total accident!”

“Like I’m going to believe that!”

Their bickering lasted until midnight.

 

The next day passed without much. No ambush, no mysterious soldiers. By the afternoon we reached the lake.

But the fortress stood empty. Only a single sheet of paper lay waiting.

[I’ve taken care of the old man.

You will return here in five days with the letter.

Tell the duke and the old man dies.]

 

Five days later.

The lake lay glass-smooth under a lazy afternoon sun, blue light rippling across the stones of the old fortress on its shore. Nothing moved. No sign of anyone waiting.

Either our mysterious date hadn’t arrived yet, or they were inside, waiting.

“Well… let’s go.” I waved to Raymia and old man Cranbe, who were still crouched in the tree line.

“Are we really doing this?” Raymia whispered.

“Miss Lina, we should abandon a hostage we don’t even know exists!” Cranbe hissed.

…I mean, I wasn’t eager to fight either, but that wouldn’t solve a thing.

“We’ve been over this. We won’t get paid if we turn back, and we’re out of options. We go in, head-on.”

“But I’m too young to die!”

“And I’m not old enough to die!”

What a pair of crybabies.

“Complaining won’t fix it. Trust me, it’ll work out.”

“How can you say that?”

“Like this, let’s go!” I stepped from the undergrowth with all the confidence I could fake. The other two scrambled after me.

The fortress stood in a clearing, lake glittering at its back. No cover. No ambushes. If someone was inside, they’d see us coming from a mile away.

I’d considered a surprise attack over the water, but if Raymia was captured, that plan was out.

So now I had to rescue a hostage and protect two nervous wrecks. Wonderful. Definitely raising my fee after this.

Honestly, the enemy was dumb too. We didn’t even know what the old man looked like, if they’d simply pretended to be him and said, “Thanks for the letter!” they’d have won already.

While I mulled that over, we reached the fortress. The main gate was locked and rusted solid, so we slipped through a side door instead.

Everything looked the same as five days ago, only now I could feel eyes on us.

If they were the same soldiers as before, fine. But five days is plenty of time to plan a rematch. No lowering our guard.

I peeked in. Nothing.

Behind me came urgent whispers. “Why did she stop?”, “This is scary. And judging by her chest, she’s still a kid…”

“…If you weren’t the client, I’d put my fist in your face.”

“I didn’t mean it! You’re doing great work!”

“Shut it. Let’s keep going.” I pushed the door open.

A full suit of plate armor stood just inside.

“Hyaaaaaa!!”

“Waaaaaaaah!!”

All three of us screamed and leapt back.

I hadn’t sensed anyone. Whoever, or whatever, it was, it hid its presence perfectly.

The armor didn’t move to attack. Instead, it raised a gauntlet and silently pointed deeper into the fortress.

“Follow closely.” I ordered, stepping in with deliberate care.

The entry chamber was small, a single door ahead leading farther inside. Only the armor waited.

“There are more hostages, right?” I asked. No response.

“Hey, you can talk, can’t you? Rude.”

Still nothing.

A prickle of unease ran through me. The armor matched the attackers’ gear from before, but the feeling was different, eerily empty.

Living armor? A suit possessed by low-level spirits. Classic bodyguard trick for a sorcerer.

So there’s an enemy sorcerer.

Not shocking. I moved on, wary.

The next corridor stretched long and dim, doors evenly spaced along both sides. The armor’s silent gesture said, “straight ahead,” but I wasn’t about to march into a trap.

So I checked every door.

Tedious, yes.

Empty, every single one.

At last, we reached the final chamber.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” A flat voice greeted us.

The room was wide, shadows pooling under a single hanging lamp. Ranks of armored suits lined the far wall, more living armor, easily a dozen.

In their midst stood a man in a black cloak, face hidden behind a smooth white mask.

Pretty sure it was a mask.

“I appreciate you answering my note.” He said with the calm courtesy of a waiter. “I am Goal. A pleasure to meet you.”

Great.

Two possibilities with an introduction like that, either he’s famous enough that his name is a threat, or he has no intention of letting us leave alive.

I’ve never heard of him, so… option two.

I hadn’t expected diplomacy anyway, but the guy could at least pretend.

“Where’s the hostage?” I put myself between Raymia and Cranbe.

“I’m afraid I must see the letter first.”

“I’ll ask again, where is the hostage?”

“I must verify its authenticity. Once I confirm that, the hostage will be released.”

…Sure.

“Mind if I ask something?”

“What is it?”

“Are you actually planning to negotiate?”

His tone stayed perfectly even. “Do you know the meaning of ‘parallel lines’?”

“I think I do.” I tilted my head. “A declaration of war.”

“You’re sharp.”

The instant he spoke, killing intent flared behind me.

I threw my arms wide, shoving Raymia and Cranbe aside and leapt back.

A blade hissed through the space I’d occupied a heartbeat earlier, slicing clean through my cloak. One second slower and it wouldn’t have stopped there.

I spun, cloak torn, and found a dark figure crouched low, sword poised.

A beastman, sleek black fur, yellow eyes burning.

“A catman!?” I blurted.

“Panther! I’m a black panther!” he barked, momentarily forgetting the ambush in his outrage.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Raymia and old man Cranbe bolted to opposite corners of the room.

That wouldn’t hold for long, I needed a bigger distraction.

“There’s barely a difference between a black cat and a black panther!” I yelled.

“There totally is!”

“That’s enough, Zector.”

The voice came from right behind me.

I spun and darted to Raymia’s side. Too close!

The living armors closed in with a screech of metal, cutting Cranbe off from us.

“Princess!” He shouted.

“Old man! Please rest in peace, I’ll make sure to collect your insurance money!”

“…”

People really do show their true colors when death’s breathing down their neck.

But I couldn’t just leave him.

“Flare Arrow!” A dozen blazing bolts flared to life before me.

The spell wouldn’t dent those armors, but that wasn’t the point. If I took out the sorcerer, the armors would drop, and maybe I’d toast the beastman on the way.

“Go!”

The beastman lunged straight through the wall of fire.

Flames roared, armor plates hissed, but Gaol stood untouched.

Before the arrows reached him, the beastman threw himself in front of the sorcerer.

“What—” Cranbe gasped. “He’s sacrificing himself to protect his master…!”

“Ha! Don’t be ridiculous.” The voice came from the very beastman, completely unharmed.

“Impossible!” I lost composure this time.

I saw the beastman being hit directly by several flaming arrows. Even someone wearing armor wouldn’t be unharmed after that.

“I’ve got a special body.” He grinned. “Magic like that doesn’t work.”

A chill pricked the back of my neck, “You’re a chimera made with a low-ranked mazoku!?”

“I’ll leave that to your imagination.” His smile said I was right.

“Goal, use your toys already!”

“I’d prefer you didn’t call them that.” The masked sorcerer replied coolly, waving a hand, “Move.”

The armors quickened their advance, trapping Cranbe.

If the ceiling were higher I could Ray Wing over them with Raymia in tow, but no luck.

Chanting under my breath, I sprinted toward Cranbe, Raymia at my heels.

“How cute.” Zector blocked our path.

“Blam Blazer!” I flung the spell, not at him, but at Gaol.

“Crap!” The beastman shouted.

The shockwave exploded, tossing the armors aside and slamming the sorcerer into the wall.

Bang! His head turned, then dropped clean off!

“Hyahhhh!” Raymia shrieked as it rolled across the floor.

“…a puppet!?”

The severed head was too perfect, too polished. A decoy.

“Tch… you noticed.” Zector snarled.

It’s hard to imagine the beastman playing both roles. Using magic to make the puppet move, talk and also controlling the living armor all at once?

Unless…

“Raymia, run!”

“But—”

“Don’t worry! Old man Cranbe will be fine!”

“Devil! Flat devil!” The old man howled behind us.

Ignoring him, I grabbed Raymia and bolted back down the corridor.

“You won’t escape!” Zector thundered after us.

I chanted while running, but Raymia kept glancing back and slowing me down.

Not leaving the old man, just need a head start…

I flicked a gold coin over my shoulder.

“A gold coin!?” Raymia suddenly doubled her pace.

Too easy.

With that settled.

“Elmekia Lance!” I spun and fired the mental attack. In a hallway this narrow, it was nearly unavoidable.

“Whoooa!” Zector vaulted, clinging to the ceiling.

So that’s how he hid earlier.

We gained some distance. I dragged a still-coin-gazing Raymia toward the entrance, chanting again.

The armor that greeted us now stood quietly at the corner.

“Figured. Damn Brass!” My spell tore through the suit, and the real Gaol inside it.

He’d been posing as living armor the whole time, pulling strings from right here. I suspected it, so leaving Cranbe behind was just bait.

With the sorcerer down, the armors would collapse. All that remained was the beastman.

Zector swore and spun back toward the main room.

“Raymia, stay here!” I dashed after him.

He was hauling the unconscious Cranbe and bolting for a side door.

“You won’t get away!” I hurriedly chased after him, however, as he’s carrying the old man I can’t use spells carelessly. And I doubt sleeping spells will work on him.

He reached a window, smirked. “See you later!”

“Damn it!” I dove after him, but by the time I landed outside, he and Cranbe vanished into the forest.

A bitter taste of defeat settled in my chest.

But fate wasn’t done with us.

 

“Running home with your tail between your legs?” A familiar voice echoed.

Raymia and I froze. It’s been a full day since the fight; we were already on the road back to Duke McGarell to report when the beastman stepped out of the trees, a squad of armored men behind him. One carried old man Cranbe, alive, but bound.

“Isn’t it cruel to abandon a comrade?” Zector teased.

Why is he here?

“If that’s how it is, I’ll kill you both and take the letter.”

Raymia and I traded a glance; even Cranbe looked bewildered.

“Resist and the old man—”

“Dill Brand!” I shouted. The ground erupted in a perfect donut around us, earth spearing skyward.

Zector leapt back, cursing. “Tch! At least listen to me!”

Before the dust cleared, he swung his massive black blade, unleashing a shockwave that sliced the earthen ring in half.

“Hmph! You thought that would protect you? Don’t be stupid!” He crowed, just as the dust cleared to reveal… nothing.

“What!?” He spun in confusion.

“Up here!”

Too late. I dropped from above, smashing the armor carrying Cranbe. It crumpled like a tin can.

The old man groaned, clutching his hip but otherwise fine.

I kicked the fallen armor’s head for good measure and backed off to gain space.

“Stop messing with me!” Zector roared.

“Ahhh! I don’t wanna die!!” Cranbe cried.

“Calm down, you two!”

The remaining armors surged toward us, a perfect screen to keep Zector at bay.

“Grey Bomb!”

Light flared beneath their feet, and then…

 

BOOM!

 

When the dust finally cleared, only a heap of twisted steel remained. No sign of Zector. He must have slipped away.

“Well, well… looks like we managed to get through.” I exhaled.

“Old man, I’m surprised you’re still breathing.” Raymia narrowed her eyes.

“…Why do you sound disappointed, Your Majesty?” Cranbe replied dryly.

“Where’s the letter?”

“I have it.” He pulled a small paper bundle from his pocket. “They never even searched me.”

I don’t want to hold it because I could drop it mid battle, and making Raymia hold it would make her a target, plus, she’s very unreliable. I had no choice but to let the old man hold onto it.

“It may sound immodest, but unlike a certain someone, I have virtue.” Cranbe added.

“Unlike who?”

“Ah, slip of the tongue.”

“Anyway, we’re lucky!” Raymia clapped her hands.

“Maybe not.” I said, damping her cheer.

“Huh? What do you mean, Lina?”

“I’ll explain later. First, start removing the helmets from every fallen suit of armor.”

“The helmets? …All right.”

“Oh, I get it, we’re going to pawn them!”

“No. Just do it.”

“Fine… oh dear, stealing from the dead. So very un-princess-like.” she muttered.

“I heard that.”

“I-I didn’t say anything!”

Grumbling, the two worked until Raymia suddenly yelped.

“What’s wrong, Your Highness?” Cranbe and I stepped closer.

“This man… doesn’t he look familiar?”

A sturdy build, square jaw, close-cropped hair.

“It’s Barrel.” Cranbe murmured.

“Barrel!?” Raymia blinked. “…Who’s that?”

That changed everything.

“Raymia, Old Man, let’s go back to the city. I’ll explain on the way.”

 

“I’m relieved to see you safe, Lady Raymia.” Duke McGarell said brightly as we entered the audience chamber. Guards lined the crimson carpet in neat rows. “I heard rumors of some… commotion.”

“Oh, come on.” I grinned. “We know what you’re after.”

Beside me, Raymia and Cranbe kept their heads down.

“I’m… after something?” The duke’s smile wavered.

“Don’t play dumb. I’m talking about the letter.”

“Ah, that. Forgive me for not telling you. I planned to send someone else, but circumstances—”

“No.” I stepped forward. “That’s not what I meant.”

He blinked. “Then what?”

“We were sent to deliver a letter to no one.”

“What?”

“It was obvious the fortress was abandoned. And why would assassins care about a letter meant for nobody?”

The duke looked away.

I continued, looking him straight in the eye. “Furthermore, the assassins claimed that they took the old man that was supposed to live there hostage, and tried to negotiate with us to hand over the letter. It’s clear they didn’t really want to negotiate or truly cared for the letter to begin with as they even took old man Cranbe and never bothered searching him even though he had the letter all along. One would say that what they were truly after was killing us, using the letter just as pretense. But kill who exactly? Certainly not the old man as they didn’t kill him when they had the chance, and not me as I’m unrelated to this. Old man, remind me, what happens to Turadia if something… unfortunate… happens Princess Raymia?”

Cranbe’s voice stayed light though his eyes sharpened. “Lady Raymia has no siblings. I’m not sure where her cousin Flaon fits in, but the inheritance would likely pass to a son of Duke McGarell, as they share blood.”

“Shut up!” One guard barked.

The duke shot to his feet, face flushing. “Ridiculous! Are you accusing me of plotting to assassinate Lady Raymia so my son could claim her lands?”

“I’m not accusing, I’m stating the obvious.”

“The assassins even hid their faces so we wouldn’t recognize them. But you slipped. Among them was a soldier named Barrel, one of yours.”

“Barrel!?” Several guards murmured. “Now that you mention it, he’s been missing…”

“Silence!” McGarell roared, panic cracking his voice. “Guards! Arrest them!”

But the soldiers hesitated.

“Well? Do it!”

Still no movement.

“Enough!” Raymia’s voice rang like a sword strike. She stepped forward, back straight, gaze cold. The guards stiffened. “Open your eyes! Will you blindly serve a lord who conspires with murderers for his own gain? If a knight’s pride means justice, then correct your lord’s crime!”

The chamber fell silent.

Even though their master is clearly evil, will they listen to the beautiful girl? The ‘pride of knight’ thing may appeal to the hearts of simple-minded soldiers.

Who will they follow?

The world is not so simple that soldiers will just wake up to the truth and tearfully throw down their weapons.

Nonetheless, it’s clear they’re all carefully thinking.

If they follow Raymia, that’d certainly be reasonable, but Duke McGarell would face justice from the Duke of Lartigue, and his territory will likely be confiscated. That will probably leave them jobless and their families homeless.

However, following Duke McGarell’s orders would break their sense of pride, they’ll live ashamed for the rest of their lives.

Raymia pressed on. “Duke McGarell, there’s no point in arresting us. I already sent a letter to Duke Lartigue with living witnesses. Accept justice with dignity, and he may show mercy to your family and men.”

A bluff, of course, but they didn’t know that.

“T-that’s absurd!” McGarell shouted. “Guards! Arrest them!”

The soldiers stood frozen.

With a strangled cry, the duke spun and bolted for the doors.

“You won’t get away!” I sprinted after him.

Raymia, Cranbe, and, perhaps swept up in the moment, every guard in the room chased after us.

McGarell sprinted down the hallway and burst into the courtyard.

The hedges rustled, and a dark shape dropped into view.

Zector.

“So this is where you were!” McGarell gasped, wild-eyed. “Do something! Our plan—”

“I heard enough, Master McGarell.”

“Yes! Cut them down! Finish them off yourself, leave no one alive!”

Zector’s blade slid free with a whisper of steel.

“Stay back.” I warned, murmuring a spell.

But Zector moved first.

A single flash, and McGarell collapsed, cut down in one stroke.

We all froze.

“What the hell…?” I managed.

“He can’t pay me anymore.” Zector said calmly, sheathing his sword. “He should’ve surrendered. I only needed enough to cover Goal’s funeral. By running, he made that impossible. Guess things worked out for you, though.”

“I suppose. But you didn’t have to kill him.”

“This was the only way this would’ve ended.” He turned to leave, unhurried. “Hmm. I never got your name.”

“Lina. Lina Inverse.”

“I’ll remember that. We might meet again.” With that, he vaulted the courtyard wall and vanished.

 “Ray Wing!” I flew at high speed, chasing after the beastman.

Once we were outside town, making sure there was nobody around, I caught up to him.

“...why did you follow me?” he slowly reached for the hilt of his sword.

“I need to confirm something.” I kept my distance. “I heard what you told McGarell. You’re no simple goon. Your human name, is it Flaon?”

His body trembled.

The coarse fur thinned, warped, melted away. Before me stood a lean, black-haired man, handsome and perfectly human.

“...did Raymia tell you about me? Or maybe, the old man?” His tone was low, given the change of body his voice sounded completely different. “It’s impressive you know about me.”

“I had a hunch; you had too much sway over McGarell for a goon. And it wasn’t just money that made you kill him. I’m guessing he cursed you into that form, and you wanted revenge. You haven’t given up on Turadia.”

“You wouldn’t understand. The shame of being blamed for a crime you didn’t commit… If anyone had listened, the truth would’ve cleared me. Instead I was exiled, wandering without purpose. My hatred grew, and then I met a man who gave me the power to become a beast and showed me how to use McGarell’s ambition.”

“Who?”

“I won’t say. You wouldn’t know the name. But now…” His eyes hardened. “You and I have a reason to kill each other.”

“I can’t let you walk away.”

“And I can’t let you live.”

He unsheathed his sword

And so, the battle began.

 

“Lina!” Raymia greeted me with a worried look.

“After you chased after the beastman and didn’t come back we thought you died.” Old man Cranbe didn’t look worried at all.

“Everything’s settled.” I forced a small smile.

 

In the end, thanks to Raymia’s intervention, McGarell’s territory wasn’t seized. Seems his eldest son will be inheriting it.

The fact that Zector is Flaon is something I kept to myself. It'd be an awful thing to tell Raymia, and old man Cranbe would definitely let it slip.

It’s best if they don’t know.

Still, one problem remains.

I stared into the campfire and sighed. Tonight, I’m sleeping outdoors.

“Come on, Lina, don’t stop!” Raymia’s cheerful voice cut through the night.

Another sigh. I pulled a leafless rose from the box and began taping on fresh leaves.

“Since my debt’s paid, we need more artificial flowers. Think of this as part of your commission.”

“You don’t need to pay me—”

“No, no! You saved the kingdom. If I don’t reward you, it’ll tarnish Turadia’s honor!”

And so…

Until we reached Turadia, I spent the entire journey making endless artificial flowers.

Contents

Chapter 1: Dragon's Peak
Chapter 2: Little Princess 
Chapter 3: Labyrinth 
Chapter 4: The order to eliminate Lina
Chapter 5: The Child
Chapter 6: Slayers EX - Little Princess 2
Afterword, Color ilustrations and Download Links

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