But the way she’d petted that puppy confused him. Her hands had cradled the dog, comforting it. They were kind hands. It was as if she’d been teaching it what affection was. The girl stared in silence at the forest into which the two dogs had disappeared. To Adlet, the light in her eyes, her expression, seemed terribly ephemeral. She looked like a flower on the verge of wilting, a star about to sink at any moment. Like something fragile. Adlet didn’t get her. She was cold but also warm. Terrifyingly strong yet simultaneously frail. This contradictory first impression was confusing.
“Who’s there?” The girl turned toward Adlet.
His heart jumped. His mind went blank, and he had no idea what to say. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. It wasn’t that he was shocked by her beauty. He wasn’t moved by emotion and probably wasn’t in love. He just didn’t know what to do. All he could manage was panic. “Do you like dogs?” Adlet finally squeezed out the wrong thing to say.
Her mouth agape, the girl stared at Adlet in astonishment. “I like dogs. I hate people, though.”
“…Oh. I like both.”
“Who are you?” the girl demanded as she pulled her gun from beneath her cloak, pointing it between Adlet’s eyes. He felt absolutely no sense of danger. “Have you come to kill me, too?” On the back of her left hand was the Crest of the Six Flowers. Adlet gazed vacantly at the girl’s face and her crest. “You don’t care if I shoot?” she inquired.
Those words brought Adlet to his senses. Panicking, he raised both hands, showing her he wasn’t hostile. “Wait, don’t shoot. I’m Adlet Mayer. I’m one of the Braves of the Six Flowers, just like you.” When he displayed the symbol on the back of his hand to the girl, she eyed him suspiciously.
“I’ve heard of you. You’re the cowardly warrior from the martial tournament in Piena. They say you’re a genuine sleazebag.”
Adlet was flustered. “W-wait. Who said that? I’m the strongest man in the world. I am absolutely not a ‘cowardly warrior,’” Adlet stammered, attempting to calm his pounding heart.
“You’re one of the Braves of the Six Flowers? There’s no way I’d believe that,” she scoffed.
He could sense no kindness or transient fragility in the way she leveled the muzzle of her gun at him. The girl who stood there was a cold, cautious, natural-born warrior. Her attitude immediately dispersed Adlet’s confusion. “The rumors are wrong,” he said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to win, but I’m not a coward.”
“…”
“I’m Adlet, the strongest man in the world. A coward wouldn’t be capable of calling himself the strongest in the world. So don’t point your gun at me,” he said confidently.
But the girl’s expression only showed disgust, and she gave no indication that she would lower her weapon. “Where are your allies?”
“Nashetania is nearby. You know her, don’t you? She’s the princess of Piena and the Saint of Blades.”
“Nashetania…I see. So she was chosen as well.” She still made no move to lower her weapon—though she should have known that Adlet wasn’t her enemy. She stared at him with jaded eyes. At the very least, it wasn’t how most people would regard a future comrade-in-arms. “Tell Nashetania and the others you are about to meet…”
“…Tell them what?”
“My name is Fremy Speeddraw. Saint of Gunpowder.”
The Saint of Gunpowder. Adlet hadn’t heard the title before. It was said that the Spirits dwelled in all things, governing over the providence of all existence. But he had never heard of a Spirit or Saint of Gunpowder. What bothered him more than that, though… Why should there be any need for him to tell the others?
“I will not be accompanying you,” she explained. “I will be fighting the Evil God on my own. I won’t interfere with your business, so don’t get involved with mine.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Adlet.
“Is there something wrong with your hearing? I’m saying that I’ll be operating separately from your group. Do not get involved with me in the future.”
Adlet was dumbfounded. Wasn’t working together what made them the Braves of the Six Flowers? What could one warrior hope to accomplish alone?
“Tell them exactly that. You can manage a basic errand, can’t you?” Fremy asked, lowering her gun, then turning and sprinting off. She was quite fast.
“Hey, wait!” Of course, mere words had no effect. Fremy disappeared in a blink. “Damn it!” Adlet scanned the area. His horse was approaching. He drew his knife from the scabbard on his chest and carved into the horse’s saddle: Nashetania. Met another Brave. I’m following her. Don’t worry about me—head for our goal. Then he turned the horse around toward the village entrance and sent it galloping back. “Wait! Where’d you go, Fremy?!” he shouted, but there was no reply. Adlet dashed into the trees.
Running in the forest always left traces—broken twigs, footprints on leaves. If Adlet followed those, pursuing Fremy shouldn’t prove too difficult. Adlet climbed the mountain and descended the other side, running all the while. At various points, Fremy’s footprints suddenly cut off, as if she was erasing evidence of her passage. Someone used to fleeing would run that way.
“What is up with her?” Adlet muttered as he searched the area with his telescope. When he detected the faint moving shape of a person, he ran off in that direction.
He considered giving up on tracking her and going back the way he had come. He was worried about leaving Nashetania behind. But Adlet kept on chasing Fremy. His intuition as a warrior instructed him. Something whispered deep in his heart, telling him he had to follow. He couldn’t just leave her alone.
He caught sight of her back as she ran through the forest. Apparently, Adlet was gaining ground. At this rate, he could overtake her. He chased her for about another hour, then finally circled around
