Kyoukai Senjou no Horizon

Volume 2B, Chapter 56: Howler in the Theatre

From whose point of view

Is it a tragedy?

And what is the opposite?

Point Allocation (Sentiment)

The people of London watched the overhead swordfight between King Lear and Michizane.

Even in their houses and behind their shutters, they could hear it and feel the wind.

The king pushed forward with repeated uses of his two swords while the Far Eastern noble responded with his lightning sword.

The white lightning sword arced through the sky and white light scattered when it was blocked by the crossed swords of its opponent.

They crossed swords with each other, launched a sword toward their opponent’s openings, deflected their opponent’s strikes, changed height and angle to attack again, and launched new strike after new strike.

They exchanged blows as if dancing and as if testing their opponent’s limits.

They wielded their weapons almost like wings, took steps that seemed to kick up waves, and turned the streets of London into the footing for a battle with all the roaring wind and white sparks that entailed.

The king and noble’s swords met and groaned as the two stepped sideways over the Thames and created great flowers of sparks from their swords with Westminster Abbey between them.

The people obeyed the queen’s command by leaving their shutters and curtains closed.

However, the queen did not rebuke them for peering through the cracks or cheering.

“Don’t lose!” shouted the Hamlet girl.

Hearing that, the king gave a small smile under his armor.

Everyone knew that Shakespeare’s Logismoi óplo turned any attacks against her into internal Blessings, so they used that fact.

“Open the divine network! Choose your words carefully when cheering Shakespeare on! Tell her she needs to fight better! Otherwise it won’t reach her!!”

However, they also said something else with great expectation in their voices.

“Who’s the idiot who made Shakespeare call out King Lear!?”

Honestly.

“This isn’t something we’re supposed to see for free!!”

Neshinbara wrote.

He had not moved from his position on the bridge and Shakespeare had not moved from the end of the bridge.

To write was to imagine, so even if they could not see it, they could read the battle between king and noble from the text their opponent wrote and give their character the appropriate action.

Words were convenient.

However, words could not perfectly represent or convey one’s imagination. Even when writing “red”, the red the writer imagined would not be the same red the reader imagined. There would be two different colors.

However, it was that very ambiguity that made imagining and creating with words so much fun. How could one best build up the vision in their head and how could they best convey it to others?

That’s right, thought Neshinbara. I want to get something across to her.

The girl in front of him sent more words his way.

<>

The moonlight was briefly obstructed as the king began to run.

Neshinbara responded by dedicating his instructions to the noble.

That’s right, Neshinbara muttered in his heart. This is the opponent that will guide me to my future.

Who was she? Which one was she?

Long ago, he had met a girl who could consult herself about things. His time with her had been strange and lively. Perhaps because there were two of her, she had learned everything quickly and he had been unable to keep up.

They had been in a boring place and they had quickly finished reading every book available to them.

It had begun with discussions of their experiences in coming that far. Before long, they had started discussing fun and occult things and they eventually added in legends and the dramas popular in the city.

…And then we started making them ourselves.

Because they had been doing it to kill time, they had been completely serious. And because she had been able to consult herself, her works were always well-made. He had thought they were just like what an adult would make.

When editing each other’s works, she had performed a hellish double-check of his works and he had rarely found much to correct about hers.

Even now, that probably remained true.

He would not.

He gathered strength.

That was right.

He agreed.

Neshinbara wrote while hoping it got through to her.

“Hey,” she asked. “Which do you think I am?”

He thought about her question for a bit before answering.

“It’s hard to say,” he said. “But I did remember one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Well,” he answered. “When you were with me you spoke a lot more formally.”

“…”

“When did you start speaking so casually?”

“Well…” She spoke slowly and quietly. “When you left.”

<>

<>

<>

“Then where did I go!?” she shouted. “Where did the formal me go!?”

<>

<>

<>

<>

<>

<>

The manifestation of Michizane vanished and the remaining king fell to his knees and opened his mouth toward the night sky.

The tragedy had ended. The scream indicating the loneliness brought by the king’s righteousness would be released into the heavens.

However, some words stopped it.

“Eh?”

She saw him. She saw him still typing words into his sign frame.

“Brings an end to his righteousness? How!?”

He did not give voice to a reply, but he did type one with text.

“That’s impossible!!” shouted Shakespeare.

Neshinbara shook his head.

“No, it isn’t.”

“How?”

“With some editing.”

While they faced each other from the bridge and just off the bridge, he held up his right arm.

“I broke down your Macbeth as a spell and rewrote it. Of course, I was only able to do it because I’m in this festival your stage created.”

Overhead, a young warrior appeared and stood calmly before the wailing king.

Shakespeare looked up at him.

“But then…this isn’t Macbeth! Macbeth can’t complete his usurpation!”

“No, it’d probably make for a terrible play. But stories are flexible. It may be a failure as a version of Macbeth, you can always make a different story on that groundwork. And I wonder if the people who’ve seen Macbeth a few times have ever wondered this.”

He spoke while moving his feet forward and across the rest of the bridge.

“Why couldn’t someone have made Macbeth into the king?”

So…

He had one thing to say.

With those words, Macbeth stepped forward.

In that instant, the mad king rose and indeed regained his sanity. He gathered his movements, prepared his one sword, and performed a steady counterattack.

However…

Precisely that happened.

<>

In the end, the king embraced his usurper.

<>

King Lear slumped down as if nodding.

Everything but the still moonlight vanished as the two of them stood at the end of the bridge.

She hesitantly brought a hand to her chest.

“I…”

She shook her head and asked him a question now that he had crossed the bridge.

“Which one am I?”

Neshinbara nodded and gave a simple answer.

“Why not just say it’s the one that liked me?”

“Eh!? Wait! What’s this!? That came out of nowhere!”

“I mean, it’d be kind of sad if it was the one that hated me. So if we don’t know, this way is more convenient for me, don’t you think?”

“What?” asked Shakespeare while her face and ears grew red. “You idiot! Th-this isn’t about convenience. …And there’s no way to tell them apart based on that!”

He wondered if she knew what that implied and he gave a silent sigh while hoping that didn’t mean both of them hated him.

“Anyway,” he said. “I’m here, so where are you?”

She thought about that and lowered her head.

“…Here.”

“You made your way to England and did your very best here.”

Her glasses glanced up toward him when she heard that. She then leaned over and pulled a small book from the paper bag behind her.

It was the first printed work Neshinbara had ever made.

He shuddered as he wondered why she had it and questioned why his past embarrassment had to be shown off here as well.

“You only made fifty copies, so it was it not easy getting one. I paid an exorbitant amount at an auction in Genova.”

She audibly flipped through the pages.

“What was with this Sexy Dynamite Beam? Is it dynamite or a beam?”

“That’s your issue with it!?”

“What’s wrong with that? Honestly, and I was wondering if you and the illustrator were close.”

“Sorry, but that isn’t happening. There’s just no way.”

He seriously thought that, but Shakespeare did not seem to care.

“I think it was pretty original at the time for the heroine princess to be twins.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“The bigamy end was even more original.”

He had been prepared for this, but it essentially meant his life was over. She laughed and then slowly pulled a white and black shield from the paper bag.

It was the Logismoi óplo.

“As promised. The queen will probably scold me and the people will say things about me. But…”

But…

“I don’t need it anymore. I’ve seen most every kind of criticism and I’m sure you’ll need it soon.”

“Are you sure? You’ll lose your inherited name.”

“Probably. And it’s going to be tough gathering ether fuel.” She shrugged. “But King Lear without the king dying can work. After all, the real King Leir was deceived by two of his daughters, but he was saved by his youngest daughter Cordelia and he restored peace. Shakespeare only modified it into a tragedy.”

So…

“The only one who can inherit the name of Shakespeare is me now that I’ve experienced something even greater just now.”

“You seem pretty confident and you do work for a complicated queen. But as long as you remain Shakespeare, I suppose the king will still die and he won’t hand the throne over to the usurper.”

Neshinbara suddenly pointed to the right.

“Hey, can you look over there for a second?”

“Eh?”

As soon as she looked over, he swiped the shield from her hands.

“Ah.”

By the time she turned around, he was already running away with shield in hand.

“Eh!? What!? What’s going on!?”

“You’re up, people of the city!!”

The city replied to his shout. The people banged on their shutters from within. The percussive notes almost sounded like applause and Shakespeare gave a troubled smile in the moonlight.

“So we can have a Macbeth who becomes king, can we?”

Bitterness entered her smile and she brought a hand to her chest.

“Then can we have a king who wants to be with Macbeth?”

She bowed and an even greater din sounded out.

In the Tower of London’s changing chamber, Mary watched the end of the play using London as its stage.

…Why are Musashi’s people here?

She thought on the meaning of the kunai Milton had brought her.

“Is it Master Tenzou?”

As soon as she muttered that, a sudden voice came from the door behind her.

“Mary, the city seems to have grown rather lively.”

It was the Fairy Queen. Mary turned toward the voice and listened to it through the door.

“Let’s play a game, Mary. The same game we used to play with father.”

The words delivered after a breath backed Mary’s suspicions.

“Let’s make a gamble to see whether we should give our time to the fool who may be here soon.”

However, she heard another noise on top of the voice. It came from the distance on the south end of the city.

…A wolf’s howl?

“Oh?”

Elizabeth gave a small sigh before continuing.

“Will the French wolf try to steal England’s moon?”

Walsingham saw the silver wolf stand up high with the light behind her.

With her arms crossed and her curly silver hair blowing in the wind, she perfectly overlapped the second moon.

She was to the north of the plaza. That spot had been empty before, but a wooden pillar had been formed for her to stand on.

The trees of the forest had been cut into logs with the wolf’s chains and then connected vertically.

She had her back to the moon while higher than the city of London.

And she spoke.

“A pillar standing in a park has two meanings. The first is a symbol of vegetative growth as seen in the maypole or the festival of Beltane. The other is one you should be well aware of as part of the public morals committee.”

“Scaffold.”

“Judge,” replied the wolf. “Once, a certain non-human girl from Hexagone Fran?aise was executed by England. It was during the Hundred Years’ War. Hexagone Fran?aise was on the verge of being ruled by England when the Maid of Orléans saved them. The girl led a unit of non-humans to liberate Hexagone Fran?aise, but she was captured by England and executed.”

Walsingham had heard of this from Drake. He would occasionally mutter about it.

Because of that, she had once looked into it.

“It occurred in the land of Rouen which was mainland territory belonging to England at the time. I have heard that even England sent members of the Testament Cross-Borders Unit during the history recreation of the execution. However, Hexagone Fran?aise sent a similar unit of non-humans.”

Walsingham knew that much. But for some reason, the closer Hexagone Fran?aise unit had never arrived despite being called for. That was why Drake suspected his grandfather’s unit had been betrayed.

However…

“Do you know the truth behind the execution? It seems the Hexagone Fran?aise unit arrived on the scene first, but the execution had already begun. They did not make it in time. No, from what I have heard, it was a little different than that.”

That is…

“The Maid of Orléans apparently wished for her own death. After all, she was of the angel race and she was prepared to disappear into heaven once her role was complete. She supposedly said, ‘This will bring an end to the war.’ No one else there wished for it to happen, but she was burned to ashes and ascended into heaven. And the truth of her martyrdom was not allowed to remain in the recreation of the Testament descriptions. So…”

At that point, something fell from the wolf’s shoulders and hips. They were fragments of silver that shook as they fell. These were the scattered pieces of the broken silver chains. The mist was slowly clearing over the plaza down below and the fallen fragments produced metallic noises around the wooden pillar rising up from there.

However, the wolf gave breath of satisfaction.

“The primary non-human force that fought alongside her managed to take some of her possessions from the scene. They were the execution tools that had been consecrated by the flesh, blood, and ashes of that holy maiden and angel. And they were made in England. One was a set of chains. The autonomous tools had enough power to bind an angel and they were later given the characteristics of an immortal race so they would not meet the same fate as her. And did you know this?”

With the moon behind her, the silver wolf opened her mouth in a crescent moon of a smile.

“On the night of a full moon, non-humans can use their full power.”

She then wrapped the silver chains below her feet. They looked like ripples or a lake surface reflecting the moonlight.

She sat in the center of the expanding ripple of silver, she raised her head toward the moon, and she howled.

“Ahh…”

Mitotsudaira did not resist her non-human instincts that throbbed in the moonlight.

She gave a slow, unsteady, yet carrying voice as she let her pulse run through her body and changed her voice to an “o” sound.

“Ahh… Ohh…!!”

Her voice continued trembling as it came forth and grew so high-pitched it seemed to travel endlessly through the sky. The wolf’s howl to the moon was joined by countless rustling sounds came from the earth.

The fragments of the silver chains fallen there shook and then made a sudden movement.

“Ohhh!!”

The shattered silver chains ascended. They clung to the wooden pillar of execution as if embracing it. They crawled up it with a sticky flowing motion, but their motion joined together with each other.

“————!!”

Two sprays of ether light rose along the surface of the wooden pillar. Those particles of light signaled for the broken silver chains to bathe in the moonlight and regain their form.

“These non-human chains can recover in the light of the full moon,” said the silver wolf. “You have returned to your birthplace, silver chains.”

She slowly stood, tore the four chains from the execution pillar, and lowered her arms. However, they were not bound by the chains. It looked more like they had torn the chains apart.

“It is a very old story and I do not know if it is true, but that is why I agree with Musashi’s princess. Musashi’s knight will also save any who have resigned themselves to execution.”

Then what would she do? The silver wolf stood with her back to the moon and faced Walsingham who was prepared to fight.

“Now, then.”

And she took a step into midair.

Just as Mitotsudaira set foot on a single silver chain stretching from the ground to the sky, Walsingham fired directly at her.

This is dangerous, realized Walsingham. This is a dangerous opponent.

A clear sound filled the sky and the white line she had fired was blocked by a log tossed up from below.

At the same time, she launched her hound’s blades toward Mitotsudaira.

However, the silver wolf took action with the three chains she was not standing on.

“I’m in top form!”

The three of them were thoroughly wrapped around the logs rising from the plaza and they were sent Walsingham’s way.

The wolf did not hesitate and she used her full strength to attack, so Walsingham jumped forward