“I’m glad I came down here. You really are interesting.” She laughed. “I want to know more about you. Can we talk?”
Adlet nodded. The apple-scented girl gave him a mischievous smile. Suddenly, Adlet realized that he still hadn’t asked her name.
Adlet Mayer was turning eighteen that year. He hailed from a small, remote country in the west, the Land of White Lakes, Warlow. When he was ten years old, circumstances had caused him to leave the village he called home. He had no lover and no friends. His parents had passed away when he was young. For a very long time, he had secluded himself in the mountains with his master, spending his days training to defeat the Evil God. He had refined his swordplay, honed his body, and learned how to make and use all sorts of secret gadgets. He practiced a unique form of combat that combined swordsmanship with the employment of various tools. He was affiliated with no organization and followed no leader. He was an autonomous warrior, his only goals being to fight the Evil God and the continued improvement of his skills. That was Adlet’s background.
Those who lived by the sword would normally be affiliated with an order of knights or a mercenary band, as fighting with those groups could earn money and prestige. But Adlet had no interest in either of those things—all he cared about was fighting and bringing down the Evil God. There were very few completely unconnected warriors like him, even across the entire continent.
After completing his long training, Adlet had descended the mountain and attempted to enter the martial tournament in Piena to make sure that he was indeed the strongest man in the world, he told her.
The girl who smelled of apples listened to Adlet’s story enthusiastically. He didn’t know exactly what she found so fascinating, though. “So that’s why I came to show the Spirit of Fate that I’m the strongest man on earth. Sorry, it’s not very interesting,” he said, finishing.
The fruit-scented girl applauded by way of reply. Adlet had felt embarrassed at first, but gradually, he’d gotten acclimated to talking to her. Besides, it really was nice to have a cute girl listen to him.
“No, it was interesting,” she insisted. “I really am glad I made the effort to come down here to meet you. Now I kind of feel like I’ve heard the phrase ‘the strongest man in the world’ enough for a lifetime.”
“Oh?” Adlet had a habit of describing himself as “the strongest man in the world.” Whenever he talked about himself, he always added that line. “Well, it’s an undeniable fact that I’m the strongest man in the world, so I’m gonna be proactive about saying it out loud.”
“But can you really claim to be the strongest so easily? You still haven’t beaten Nashetania, have you?” the girl asked with an edge of challenge.
But Adlet paid that no mind. “I hear she’s pretty strong. But I’m stronger.”
“There are lots of other strong people out there.”
“Of course. But I’m convinced there’s nobody out there stronger than me.”
“What basis do you have for that conviction?”
“I know I’m the strongest man in the world. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” she pressed.
“I know it. The Spirit of Fate knows it, too. Now all I have to do is show it to the Evil God and everyone else in the world.”
“You really do have amazing self-confidence.”
“It’s not confidence. It’s unmistakable fact.”
The girl smiled, not quite sure how to reply.
Well, I’m not surprised she’s confused, Adlet thought. This was her first time meeting the strongest man in the world, after all. “By the way, can I ask you something?”
“Of course. What is it?” she replied.
“I’d like to get out of here. Do you have any good ideas?”
“You want to escape? Why?”
What an unflappable girl, thought Adlet. He’d been expecting a slightly different reaction from her. Adlet told her about how the high chancellor of Piena had been wailing about putting him to death. The prison sentence had been inevitable, but the death penalty would pose a bit of a problem.
The girl put her hand to her jaw and deliberated. “I believe you’ll be all right. The high chancellor is angry, but I doubt he can put you to death since there were no serious casualties.”
“Oh, well, that’s good.” Adlet was relieved. Escaping from prison in his condition would have been a bit rough. “What happened with the tournament after I was taken away? Was it called off?”
“No. It is as if your incident had never happened. Yesterday they had a rematch, and the mercenary Quato won the semifinals by a narrow margin. Nashetania scored an overwhelming victory in the final match.” Adlet had the feeling she’d just invoked the princess’s name without using her title, but that was probably his imagination.
“That’s surprising,” he said. “So the mercenary won, huh? The old man was a little better, though.”
“It seems you injured Batoal’s shoulder with that throw.”
“I tried to hold back, but I guess it wasn’t enough. I feel kinda bad about that.”
After that, Adlet and the girl’s conversation turned to more trivial things, like how seeing the magnificence of Piena’s capital had left him awestruck and about his troubles on account of how expensive everything was there. The girl was friendly and easy to talk to, and they became absorbed in the conversation.
“Oh!” A serious expression suddenly overcame his visitor, as if her memory had just been jogged. “I forgot. I came to tell you about something. This isn’t the time for chat.”
“What is it? Sounds like it’s nothing good.”
The girl held her breath, speaking in a whisper. “Do you know about the Brave-killer?”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Have you heard of the knight of the Land of Golden Fruit, Matra Wichita?”
“Yeah, I know the name.” There were a lot of rumors going around about who would be chosen to be the Braves of the Six Flowers, and that name had come
