Death March to the Parallel World Rhapsody, Vol. 2 (light novel) Read online

  The front of each card had drawings of wells, buckets, and so on, while the back showed a Shigan word that corresponded to the picture.

  The pictures were monochromatic, but key points were made to stand out so that it was easy to understand what was being depicted, for the most part. I wasn’t sure at first what the “water” card was supposed to be, but there weren’t many other ambiguous cards like it.

  There were a hundred in the set altogether, each one carefully illustrated.

  This might be a good way to teach Pochi and Tama some vocabulary.

  “What an interesting idea.”

  “Thanks! I thought of them myself, to teach my kids back home how to read.”

  Apparently, the shopkeeper started out by drawing them on wood scraps with charcoal. Thinking he might be able to sell them, he became acquainted with a painter and talked him into making a set, then looked for a company to sell them.

  However, he explained that he wasn’t able to make a deal, as they couldn’t come to an agreement between the cost of production and the selling price. Apparently, the cards cost four silvers to make, but the company wanted to sell them for only one.

  “So each one is painted individually?”

  “Well, yes, of course…”

  Wouldn’t it be much cheaper to use wood-block prints?

  I started to propose this out loud, but Arisa tugged my arm and stopped me, putting her index finger over her lips.

  “What is it?”

  “You were going to suggest prints, right?”

  Arisa spoke to me in a whisper, so I responded in a whisper as well.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “I didn’t see any prints in my castle, either. It’s dangerous to just go around teaching people new techniques, you know!”

  “They have seals here but not wood-block prints?”

  “That’s just how technology goes.”

  Come to think of it, I vaguely remembered that even in history back on Earth, there were more than a thousand years between the invention of seals and the invention of wood-block printing. I guess it took a while to take a technique from one field and apply it to another.

  I was sort of surprised that the people who’d been reincarnated or summoned into this world before me hadn’t already spread things like woodblocks and printing, though.

  Since Arisa had experienced the consequences of this sort of thing before, I gave in to her wishes and stopped myself from suggesting the prints.

  Wrapping up our private discussion, we returned to the young shopkeeper.

  “Sorry about that. I guess she didn’t like our complicated conversation.”

  “Oh, no—I should be the one to apologize. Not many people take interest in this sort of thing, so…”

  There weren’t many people interested? It seemed like the kind of thing that would sell pretty well.

  “Well, I’d like to buy a set. How much is it?”

  The young man’s melancholic expression brightened a bit, and he said one set would be four silver coins… Wait, didn’t it cost that much to make them?

  “Are you sure? How will you make any profit, then?”

  “It’s all right. I’m happy enough just to have someone who understands the appeal of my product buy it at all.”

  I couldn’t just be indifferent to this poor man’s plight. It’d be a shame to let his great idea go to waste.

  “What’s your plan for the next time you make them? It seems like there’s a demand, so the only problem is the price. It wouldn’t be so bad to experiment a little, right? You could try to find cheaper material or maybe some method of cheaply mass-producing them.”

  I couldn’t help but make a small comment as I handed him my payment… A little bit of advice couldn’t hurt, right?

  I stole a glance over my shoulder just long enough to see the fire returning to the young shopkeeper’s eyes as we walked away from the stall.

  I handed Arisa the study cards I’d purchased.

  “What’s left to buy after this?”

  “A few small personal necessities and such. If there’s enough room in the budget, is it all right if I buy some sewing tools and a hand mirror?”

  “Sure, as long as it’s a necessary item and within the budget, I don’t mind. In fact, it’s fine if the hand mirror is a little outside the budget, so go ahead and buy one for us.”

  Checking my reflection in the water in the washbasin was a pain, so I’d been wanting one.

  I did get an item labeled Broken Mirror in my spoils from the Valley of Dragons, but I’d probably hurt myself if I tried to use it.

  Parting ways with the others as they left to continue shopping, Zena and I started to head toward the stage to see the play, but Arisa’s voice stopped me.

  “Master, aren’t you going to see the stage play?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “You bought the tickets they were selling at the entrance to the flea market, then?”

  “No, I didn’t…”

  I didn’t know they were selling the tickets there.

  It was pretty busy here, but I was sure we could get there if we just followed the flow of the crowd.

  “Lilio told me you just have to pay a penny at the stage entrance…”

  “You could do that, but then you’ll have to stand in the back and watch. The tickets cost two coppers, but you can get a seat inside if you have them.”

  “It’s ten times more expensive just to be able to sit?”

  Zena was surprised, but I just thought the standing seats were very cheap.

  I didn’t know how long the play was, but I was sure it would be better to sit.

  Apparently, Arisa and the others wanted to go, too, so I said I would buy tickets for the six of us, but Liza insisted on doing it for me instead.

  I gave Liza a little pouch with twelve copper coins, and the rest of us headed toward the stage, still browsing the flea market as we went.

  We ended up leading the kids around with us as we looked at the stalls, which I worried was unfair to Zena.

  I apologized to her tentatively, but she seemed to be having fun, and I didn’t sense any displeasure as she walked around holding hands with Pochi and Tama. Still, I’d have to remember to follow up with her about it later.

  The stalls at the flea market were something of a mixed bag.

  One stall had very junky-looking accessories crafted from bone, mixed in with some lovely silver earrings.

  “These would match your blond hair perfectly, Zena.”

  “They are very nice…”

  Zena looked pleased as she held them up to her ears and asked how they looked, so I was quick to praise her.

  Off to the side, Arisa announced that she wanted something, too, so we bought some ribbons at the stall next door.

  I bought them for everyone, of course, including Lulu, who was resting back at the inn.

  Zena looked reluctant to part with the earrings as she put them back. I would’ve bought them for her right away if she had just asked like Arisa did.

  Arisa and the girls took Zena’s hand and led her to the next stall, so I took that opportunity to buy the earrings she’d been looking at. I’ll give them to her on the way home or something.

  We met up with Liza once she had gotten the tickets, and I bought her a tassel for her spear as thanks for her troubles.

  Wherever we went, I was able to buy things for much cheaper than the price my “Estimation” skill suggested. I wasn’t sure whether that was because of my “Haggling” and “Negotiation” skills or simply the nature of a flea market.

  On our way toward the stage, pickpockets and extortionists approached us twice, but my radar let me know that someone hostile was approaching, so I was able to take care of it easily.

  I caught the pickpocket and turned him in to a group of stern-faced men who’d been hired to patrol the area by the person running the flea market.

  This sort of criminal would probably be dealt
with severely by the law, so that was all well and good, but then I had to deal with the men trying to hit on Zena.

  Whenever they went after Zena, Liza or I stepped in to physically remove them.

  “Beautiful maiden, I long to admire your smile not beneath the moonlight but beneath the bright and shining light of the sun.”

  “Aah, my beloved Zen, this castle is but a prison to me. Use your magic to whisk me away from here!”

  On the stage, a man in a sorcerer’s hooded robe was romancing a black-haired actress in a gown. Their enthusiastic performance lost a bit of its impact in front of a cheesy painted moon, though.

  …Zen, huh? Ever since meeting Arisa, I’d been on the alert whenever I heard a Japanese-sounding name. Zen could definitely be written like the Buddhist concept or the kanji for virtue, for example.

  I wasn’t really interested in stories of star-crossed lovers, so I couldn’t focus on the story, and my mind ended up wandering.

  On the other hand, Zena and Arisa seemed to like the story very much: They were leaning forward in their seats, completely absorbed in the story.

  The play was apparently based on a true story, so the number of characters made things a little confusing. It must have been too hard for Pochi and Tama to follow, because they had fallen asleep using my lap as a pillow.

  Liza was watching the stage with a serious expression, but she seemed to be focusing on the scent of spit-roasted meat wafting from somewhere behind the stage, not the play itself.

  Her eyes had narrowed as if she was sizing up her prey the moment the scent of roasting chicken fat drifted toward us, so there was no question about it.

  While I’d been entertaining myself by pinching the noses of the dozing Pochi and Tama, the story unfolding on the stage had moved forward.

  “I have you now! How dare you, a lowly plebian sorcerer, abduct my fiancée, Princess Liltiena? I, Marquis Muno, will see that you pay for this crime!”

  With his knights in tow, the portly marquis had apparently tracked down the heroes of the story.

  Standing at the edge of a set made to look like a cliff, the hero waved his staff, protecting the heroine. For some reason, there was a woman in a maid-like outfit standing behind them.

  That maid sure looks like she’ll raise an event flag.

  With a dramatic flourish during the final line of his speech, the actor pulled away the black curtain at the front of the stage to expose the painted backdrop to the bright sunlight.

  “Ahhh!”

  “Geh!”

  Zena and Arisa recoiled in their seats, each grabbing on to one of my arms.

  The painting that had been revealed depicted a gallows and the bodies of those who had been beheaded.

  Personally, I thought it was in bad taste, but judging from the shrieks and cheers of the audience, it seemed to be well received.

  The people in this city seemed pretty open to violence.

  “Father! Mother! Damn you, Marquis, you’ve claimed even the lives of my young siblings and cousins…!”

  “You think you’ve any right to be angry? A commoner rebelled against the marquis. It’s only natural that his entire family should be beheaded! Be thankful that I saw fit to spare them any torture before disposing of them!”

  A flood of red tears poured from the hero’s eyes. How did they do that?

  The protagonist’s magic blew violently, sweeping the knights who protected the marquis off to the side of the stage.

  Of course, it wasn’t real magic, just some tacky cutout images and lame sound effects, but it garnered another big cheer from the audience.

  Considering that there were real sorcerers in this world, shouldn’t they be using Light Magic or Wind Magic or something to liven up the play?

  “Such fine knights you have! But there is no one left to protect you. Now I will take my revenge for my family!”

  The protagonist brandished his long staff.

  Then, just as I expected, the actress in the maid outfit began to move.

  Deliberately facing toward the audience, she pulled out a dagger and raised it slowly.

  “Behind you!”

  “Look out!”

  The audience screamed at the hero. Yeah, I know the feeling.

  Zena didn’t cry out with the others, but she was clearly wrapped up in the story. Her hand gripped my arm with such force that it was a little painful.

  Naturally, the protagonist gave no reaction to the audience’s cries and slowly began to walk toward the actor who played the marquis as he chanted a spell.

  At that moment, the attendant rushed over and thrust a dagger into the hero’s back.

  “You! You were working for the marquis all along?!”

  “You are unworthy of the princess’s hand!”

  Despite having been stabbed in the back, the protagonist quite loudly denounced the maid-looking actress. Once his line was delivered, he very dramatically fell to his knees.

  Too late, the heroine came rushing up to the fallen hero.

  “That dagger is coated in deadly poison from the tail of a wyvern. You will never be able to save him.” The maid gave some unnecessary exposition to the crowd.

  The heroine simply cried and clung to the dying protagonist.

  “Let us meet in the afterlife, my love…”

  “Oh, Zen!”

  Finally, the leading man expired.

  “Princess, you must return to the marquis.”

  “Never! This body belongs only to Zen. I shan’t let the marquis do as he wishes with me!”

  With that, the heroine pulled out the dagger from Zen’s back and plunged it into her own breast.

  There were cries of empathy from the crowd for the heroine—especially from the female audience members.

  Startled by the noise, Pochi and Tama looked around frantically until I reassured them that the crowd was only cheering for the play.

  Both of them plopped their heads back into my lap contentedly. I scratched them behind the ears and turned my attention back toward the stage.

  I’d heard this was a tragic love story, but I was surprised it was so depressing.

  I thought it would end there, but apparently, the play was still going.

  Tossed over the side of the cliff, the protagonist’s corpse was brought back to life, and one by one, the undead hero took his revenge on the marquis’s family.

  The maid who had killed the hero before stabbed him again with the poisoned dagger, but with a cry of “Poison has no effect on this undead body!” the protagonist avenged himself. The manner in which he defeated her had been cleverly foreshadowed by their relationship in the first half, so it was actually pretty interesting.

  However, in an unsatisfying twist, he was inexplicably defeated at the last second by a Holy Knight just as he was about to finally take his revenge on the marquis.

  Apparently, many of the other audience members felt the same way I did, as booing arose from the audience.

  But some of them were booing with a smile on their faces; it seemed that the audience was expected to jeer the marquis and the Holy Knight at this part of the play.

  Oh, it’s still going?

  “Yes, I will rot away in this earth! However, I will take this land, your marquisate, along with me! I curse you, Marquis Muno!”

  Black smoke spouted from where the hero had fallen, and when the smoke cleared, the painted backdrop had been changed to depict what looked like a wasteland.

  “Holy Knight! I cannot bear to see my people suffer because of my own deeds. Please do whatever you can, for their sake!”

  “Oh, how very noble! Just as one would expect from the head of the Muno family, which has existed since the era of the ancestral king Yamato!”

  I felt like the marquis’s personality changed all of a sudden. The Holy Knight was praising him quite a lot, too.

  In the end, the marquis sacrificed himself to protect his people, and the play concluded with the scene of him taking the curse from his land at t
he cost of his own life.

  After the play ended, Arisa (who’d been watching enthusiastically) said she was thirsty, so I gave her some fruit water and let her rest under a nearby tree.

  “Would you like some, too, Zena?”

  “Thank you.”

  Accepting the bisque mug, Zena brought it to her lips and gulped down the liquid. She must have been very thirsty, too.

  I gave a cup to Liza as well, who offered the flavored water to Pochi and Tama.

  Feeling a bit hungry, we went to buy something that looked like flatbread from a nearby cart.

  What led me there was the inviting smell of soy sauce cooking. The product was called gabo flatbread, apparently made with the fantasy crop called the gabo fruit. It was very cheap, costing just one penny coin for two pieces.

  In addition to the regular kind, there was a variety filled with onions cooked in diluted soy sauce, so I ordered one of each. Apparently, there’d been a big rush of customers coming from the play, so there were no premade flatbreads left.

  The stall next door was selling thin pancakes that looked sort of like okonomiyaki; they seemed tasty, so I ordered some of those, too. These were called crappes, a name I’d never heard before.

  While I was waiting, a middle-aged woman holding a crappe approached me. It was the person who’d been sitting in the seat in front of mine at the play.

  “My, aren’t you the gentleman who was sitting behind me? Are you a foreigner, by chance?”

  “Yes, ma’am. My name is Satou. I’m a peddler.”

  “Goodness, how polite!”

  Once the woman introduced herself, we chatted while my crappes were being cooked, and she explained to me the reason behind the farce at the end of the play.

  “I’m sure you found the last bit of the play rather awful, didn’t you?”

  “You mean when the Holy Knight showed up without an introduction, and the marquis’s character suddenly changed?”

  “Yes, well, you see…”

  According to the woman, when the play was first written some twenty years ago, it ended with the sorcerer taking his revenge on the marquis and then being defeated by the Holy Knight. However, it had apparently been changed due to complaints from the nobility.