Chapter 12
"I AM NOT AN ANDROIDOPHILE!"
My adoptive father taught me to master many types of weapons, drive a car like a racer, ride a horse, and even cavalry charges and archery at a full gallop. All this strange training, as if we lived in the Middle Ages, was completely incomprehensible to me, a child who had just been pulled from the familiar world of an orphanage in Germany. For the first-timer, I even considered my adoptive father a slightly crazy freak. Even more incomprehensible was why I mastered these skills so quickly. In some strange way, my two-hundred-year-old father would show me how and what to do, urge me to do some strange exercises while repeating trigger words, and literally within a few days, I would become an expert in some kind of martial art. And he wasn't surprised by this at all. Such strange, ultra-fast progress. The fact that by evening I could hit a nearly invisible target at a hundred meters with a bow, or break the record for revolver shooting in three days of training. I remember how a few years ago, he specially brought me to the USA and made me shoot cowboy revolvers day in and day out on a special simulator. Drawing a rather heavy revolver for a ten-year-old teenager from a "fast-draw holster." Enough, he said on the third day, when I had emptied a large box of .357 caliber cartridges and my wrists ached unbearably from such abuse. "This is the maximum time a human can achieve, considering the speed of nerve impulse propagation," my father commented. "Although I remember a man from the twentieth century who did it even faster, which, by the way, really contradicts our biology and smacks of a miracle." "Who was it?" I asked, unable to restrain my curiosity. "His name was Bob Munden," he replied, and added, "I saw his videos on YouTube when I was a child. You're just a little slower than him." I, of course, asked what YouTube was and understood from his answer that it was something like a "viewing library" where people uploaded everything that was filmed on a camera. From all sorts of nonsense to movies and lessons. I had heard about it before from the caregivers at the orphanage, but it was one thing to hear and another to learn in detail about this technology and, in general, about the old wonders like: the internet and smartphones. As I said, all these skills came easily to me, even too easily, except for one—horseback riding! My father struggled with me for a whole week before I mastered the art of a jockey at a good level, and the problem wasn't at all in my technique or inability to learn to hold on tightly in the saddle, adapting to the horse's movements, merging with it into a single whole in a swift gallop. The problem was psychological. Any horse feels its rider. Their insecurity. The physical contact immediately tells the horse who its rider is—an insecure novice, or an experienced, calm rider who immediately makes it feel that he is the boss here. I lost count of how many times a horse threw me off, refused to obey, until finally my father gave a master class in animal psychology, and by the end of the second week, I still managed to develop this rider's confidence in myself, firmly gripping the horse's flanks with knees that were no longer trembling, but had suddenly turned to jelly. I remembered this problem, galloping at full speed with Elayna to the Lake Castle and admiring how my companion beautifully controlled her steed. The wind blew her hair, her hooded jacket; the horse jumped over the wooden fences of farm gardens; she was cutting corners wherever she could. And I followed riding on another horse behind her, forcing mine to repeat her entire path. Also jumping over fences and small ravines, sometimes breaking into a trot. Time was our biggest enemy. She periodically looked back, and making sure I was following her, spurred her milk-white mare on again, which we had bought along with a black stallion at a horse-changing station. I had prudently stayed on lookout while she negotiated with the owner. The chances that the queen had screwed me over here too were very high. Posters with my image and the inscription "Public Enemy of Her Majesty" were plastered everywhere. And it was unlikely that a horse-changing station so close to the capital was an exception.
Elayna assured me that we would arrive at Romulus's Lake Castle a day earlier than Rosalinda Junior and Artorius. I was inclined to believe her, as she had set a crazy pace, risking running the horses into the ground. However, this couldn't happen. At the horse-changing stations, we could get fresh ones for an additional fee without any problems. And again, I preferred to wait on the sidelines during Elayna-san's negotiations. This was because the world of Aramia had a fairly developed "magpie post." That is, important news reached the outskirts swiftly. Within a few hours. It was run by the so-called religious cult of Light and Shadow, or the Old Gods in common parlance. A declining, once very influential, organization of templar-clerics. The remnants of their monasteries were everywhere, and the magpie post was basically all that kept them afloat. In Aramia's neighboring twin state, Maramia, they still had some influence and a large monastery with students and an administrative apparatus. But in Aramia, they had long since fallen out of favor as servants of the gods. Even young couples held their weddings in the temples of the new gods; only rare individuals could still be interested in the old religion or pester the old monks dozing in their cells with questions about the meaning of their religion. However, they still maintained the magpie post, and even the royal family often used this post. Specially trained large and hardy birds could even deliver a small package, let alone a letter. And they always delivered accurately and to the address. Unlike pigeons, which the poorer people also used, these super-magpies didn't need to be taken somewhere to be released back. The monks of the old gods could, in some unknown way, tell them where to fly and to whom. This post was good for everyone; the only drawback was its high cost. There weren't enough magical magpies for everyone, so the prices were steep. And according to Kunisada's world-building, the monks had kept the secret of the postal magpies for centuries. No one else had such birds. Our journey with Elayna also now depended on the magpie postal service. The queen had surely sent a magpie to the castle, informing the owner that the princess would be stopping to spend the night with them on her way to the sanctuary in two days. There was nothing bad about that in itself. It would be bad if she had attached the 'unwanted' poster about me to this letter. Then they simply wouldn't let me into the castle. And what would I do then? Rely on Elayna? It's unrealistic that she could handle this herself. The Castle on the Lake is a dead-end task if you're trying to save everyone. Waking up, the vampiress princess will kill everyone in the castle. This scenario is inevitable. And it doesn't matter what the setup is. Informing the baron's family about the vampire family's daughter sleeping in the basement doesn't improve the situation at all. Their attempt to kill her beforehand is also a failure, and the vampiress kills everyone in the castle in this case too. There is no forceful solution to this problem. I played out countless imaginary situations in my head while we rode to the castle. Drive the family out of the castle! How? They won't leave! Inform them of the threat? They'll try to destroy her. Talk one-on-one with the head of the family? According to the book, he is stubborn and has great faith in his own strength. Won't work. Influence the wife? Maybe Romulus is henpecked and listens to his wife? Unlikely. There's nothing about that in the book. The sons? Ruled out. They don't decide anything. Any other household members? They are just set dressing in this scene. Warn the princess and Artorius? They will be saved anyway. There's no point in even considering them until they get to the castle. The solution to this problem is hidden somewhere. What is it? How can one influence an avenger who has accumulated hatred for five hundred years! It's impossible! He won't listen to any persuasion. Just as the baron's family won't want to hear about fleeing the castle. And yet that would be the simplest solution. They scram from there to a nearby town and leave the vampiress alone, the mistress of the castle. To wander through it in search of a new meaning for her existence. It's unlikely she'll understand that she has slept for five hundred years. Who is she? What is her generative intelligence's personality? My father, who participated in the development of all the significant characters, should have known this. Why didn't he leave any instructions about this? Maybe there was some hint? I tried to remember everything he had ever said about the book and the game set in the world of Aramia. Artificial characters have some flaw that real people don't. As a rule. That's roughly what he said. Maybe this is the key? What flaw do these imitations of people have?
"Elayna-san!"
I called her, and she immediately slowed to a trot. I drew level and asked point-blank:
"Elayna-san, what is your biggest flaw?"
She looked at me in surprise.
"Flaw?"
"Yes. I'm asking seriously. Do you notice in yourself or others some flaw inherent to their personalities?"
She thought for a minute, then shook her head.
"I have many flaws. I'm very picky about food. I like to buy new dresses often. I skipped magic lessons at school. That's why I only half-mastered it."
"Hold on," I stopped her with a raised hand. Elayna was self-critical; considering her popularity and beauty, this was a very courageous admission. "Let me ask differently. How could you be persuaded not to take revenge on your parents' murderers? Are you capable of forgiving them at all?"
"Why are you asking such a thing, Emissary-san? Vampires are not people. They don't forgive. And they don't like people in general. You can't compare them to me, to other people, or even to beastmen."
I cursed inwardly.
None of you here are people. You're robots created once for entertainment!
In Japanese light novels, vampire girls fall in love with mortals and vice versa very often. Although, how would this being know that. In the world of Aramia, such things haven't happened.
"How do you know about vampires and what they are like? It seems they disappeared long before you were born!" I asked.
"There's a whole book about them in the library. I read it recently."
I involuntarily pulled on the reins and stopped the horse. Something was wrong here. A chill ran over me, in anticipation of something important that I had seemingly overlooked.
"Wait. Why were you interested in vampires?"
She also stopped her mare, which had gone slightly ahead, and turned to me.
"Why not? They sometimes appear as level bosses in the dungeons. Guvaine told me. He ran into one twice. And Stratos also told me about how he once, as a novice, ran into one of those and barely escaped."
Elayna looked at me expectantly, I didn't move.
"Wait a bit, I need to think," I requested, "I can't concentrate when you're galloping so madly."
She nodded.
I pondered. The fact that there are vampires in the dungeon—brothers and sisters of our vampires from the castle—seems to be a key to something, but it's most likely some long solution that needs to be prepared in advance. The bosses in the dungeon have consciousness, unlike ordinary monsters, which are just mindless robots. And in general, the dungeon system where you can level up is unrealistic game nonsense from the once-fashionable LitRPG, a genre that has long ceased to exist. As my father claimed, they lost their target audience. Therefore, in the real world, and not a game, it's just some kind of simulator, a training ground for local adventurers and warriors. In a real fantasy world—it's nonsense. Can a boss from the dungeon be brought outside? Can you somehow negotiate with him? Make friends in the end? Most likely, yes. Divine Games are called divine for a reason, they give you absolute free will to turn the game's plot however you want. But there's no time for that now. It's pointless to consider it and waste time. I need to look for another, quick, solution.
"Alright, let's keep going."
Without another word, Elayna spurred her horse into a gallop again. I followed her.
…
When we were not far from Lake Castle, and we were completely exhausted, I suggested to Elayna that we sleep it off at an inn on the way before showing up at the castle. I was exhausted myself, but I was even more surprised by her endurance. She had been in the saddle for 16 hours with short breaks and hadn't complained.
"If we don't sleep, nothing will come to mind."
Elayna agreed, and we turned towards a small inn by the road with a crookedly made wooden sign with a fresh inscription in red paint: "Sсhalon's." Next to the inscription was an artistically scratched image of a chicken on a spit and a horseshoe. Several horses were tied to the hitching post, and from the small stable in the backyard, the sound of a smith's hammer could be heard. Apparently, the innkeeper also worked as a blacksmith, shoeing horses for the tract.
Inside the inn, it was quite bright and clean. A large hall downstairs and a staircase leading up to where there were several rooms for guests who wanted to stay the night. I pulled the hood of the cloak Elayna had lent me deep over my face, but to my immense relief, there were no posters with my image and the inscription about being 'public enemy'. My companion quickly ordered a room, grilled chicken, and we went upstairs. Several men in the hall followed Elayna with their eyes as she gracefully climbed the stairs, while I followed her. Which was not surprising, her gait could mesmerize any male subject. Upstairs, she embarrassed me somewhat. It turned out she had only rented one room. There was only one key.
Seeing my confusion, Elayna explained her decision:
"If we take different rooms, those guys downstairs will start hitting on me, seeing that I'm not married. I'm an adventuress and of course I can beat them, but it's better not to create unnecessary problems."
I glanced back towards the hall and nodded in understanding. She was right. Each time, this artificial girl surprised me with her reasonableness. Maybe it's because this is her world, I thought, watching her lock the bolt and carefully inspect the room. She is full of knowledge about it, even if it was in her head at 'Last Thursday'.
We ate quickly, washed it down with water from the pitcher on the nightstand, and lay down on the bed. She laid on the far side, me on the near side. More to that she, as if casually, placed her magic staff between us. Apparently, she was protecting herself from any advances from members of the male sex. Even mine, if such a thing had crossed my mind.
She fell asleep immediately, and I a little later, settled into the corner of the bed, repeating: "I am not an androidophile, I am not an androidophile; I am not an androidophile…"—on the third repetition, I fell abruptly into sleep.
…
The transition to wakefulness was as swift as falling asleep. Someone was shaking me by the shoulder, and I woke up instantly. It was, of course, Elayna. She had already tidied herself up, smoothed everything she could, both her clothes and her disheveled hair. I nodded to let her know to stop shaking me; this seemed to have become a habit of hers. In Japan, it's not customary to touch people, but in a fantasy world that speaks Japanese, quite European habits prevailed in this regard. Shaking a stranger's hand or slapping an acquaintance on the shoulder was a common thing here, as I had noticed.
I washed my face, rinsed my mouth, then drank all the remaining water from the pitcher.
"How long did we sleep?" I asked.
She looked at her staff, as if reading something there, and answered.
"Four hours and seventeen minutes."
Of course, I hadn't gotten enough sleep. Four-something hours is not enough to get enough sleep, after such a ride. My legs ached, the insides of my thighs too. A little more and I'd start walking like a drunken sailor, with my legs wide apart.
Outside someone had already tended to our horses. They were chewing oats from a trough. I untied the reins from the post and jumped on in cowboy-style—that's when you grab the pommel of the saddle and sort of take a step-jump with a twist. Hard to explain to someone who hasn't seen it. Elayna watched me with curiosity.
"Are there horses in your world too, Emissary-san?"
I rolled my eyes to the sky.
Oh, God! This android will not stop calling me Emissary. Then again, it's this Japanese habit of not addressing each other by name. There's something intimate in it for them. Even close friends might call each other by their last names. Apparently, that's Elayna's problem, inherited from a Japanese author. What else can it be?
"Why don't you call me by my name? My name is Timm Taler. Taler is my last name, if you must address me by my last name."
"So you're Taler-san?"
"Yes. I am Taler-san. And you are Winkelbaum-san."
I had been calling her Elayna-san until now, so she made a slightly surprised face. It didn't seem like she liked being called by her last name. Which is understandable. Such a beautiful girl wants to be addressed by her beautiful first name. And Winkelbaum-san—that somehow takes away at least twenty percent of her charm, if not all fifty. And she seemed to understand this, because she pouted, not responding to my jab.
Realizing she didn't like it, as we were getting back on the road, I offered her a choice. The last thing I needed was to quarrel with her so close to the goal.
"Let's do this. I'll call you Elayna-san. And you call me whatever you want. Thaler-san, Timm-san, George Washington-san. But just not Emissary-san. I wasn't sen…" I stopped at that word. That's not true! I was, in fact, sent. To another planet with a mission… "Uh…"
"Besides, you might slip up and call me that in front of people, which would expose me. Capito?" I finished, pleased that I had found a suitable excuse.
"What does 'capito' mean?"
"It's Italian. Don't ask. Do you agree to my terms?"
"E..Ti.. Taler-san. My apologies. I didn't think about that."
"Peace?"
She smiled strangely, apparently hearing this expression in such a context for the first time, nodded, and spurred her horse. I sent mine after...