Strangers (END)

The ride was supposed to last for seven hours. After minutes, it was already unbearable.

Initially, there was a strained silence, punctuated only by the dragging of wheels and click-clack of horseshoes. There was absolutely nothing to do or look at. Right opposite me was the opaque cloth of the stagecoach and an empty seat on the bench, and although I was demonstrably schizophrenic, my brain refused to conjure anything interesting in that empty space. Studying the “Princess” or Soren was completely out of the question, obviously. And I felt I would devolve into a full blown panic attack if I started talking to Annabelle, because she had a weird talent of being able to coax me into saying what I was actually thinking if we spoke long enough.

So instead, I closed my eyes. Nappy time! But naps are hard to execute when you can feel the gaze of a stranger who’s apparently destined to ascend to godlike power (contingent on you drawing him by Turn 3 so you can play him on curve of course) and the presence of someone who looks oddly like the woman who was there the day you hallucinated your death. So in the end, there I was, wide awake with my eyes closed, cast adrift in a transport vehicle my only wish was to escape from.

Almost as if I was on a flight.

I couldn’t help but think of all the parallels. There’s a loved one sitting next to me in a cabin, en route to a place that I didn’t really want to go to but found myself reluctantly agreeing to anyway. It’s a routine journey in almost every sense of the word—nothing groundbreaking about the means of travel, in fact, perhaps on the economical side. For me, it’s just a vacation in a metaphorical sense, but for my companion, it’s probably something more important to them. Then out of a sudden, there’s a loud noise, and I can feel myself sinking. Then the realisation that I am going to die hits me, and then I start shaking uncontrollably, and then—

“Primot?”

I’m snapped out of my trance by a gentle voice calling out some stupid name I’d made up.

“Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine, Yui—I mean, Apprentice.”

“...Are you nervous? You only say that name when you’re nervous.”

I turned to face her, my hands trembling for some reason. “I just… feel like I’m going to die.” When she didn’t respond, I tried to turn it into a joke, but my delivery was awkward. “Maybe I have a phobia of horse-drawn carriages.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t cringe—she just smiled at me. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

How could this be a good thing? I’m sinking. I’m going to die. I thought it was just planes, or boats, or cars, or elevators, or things with motors and engines. I didn’t know that any small space that moved would make me want to scream.

“Being afraid to die means that a part of you wants to live. You weren’t so afraid to die when we first met, weren’t you?”

I was stunned into silence by her sheer ignorance.

“Helloooo?”

“...Doesn’t work that way. Are you stupid?”

“If I’m wrong, why are you smiling?”

“Never laughed at an idiot before?”

“Templars should not lie, Elder Rowan.”

“I’m not an unreliable narrator. I would sooner tell an ironic joke than lie.”

As I said that, Soren cast a glance in our direction. He definitely heard something he found suspicious. Good job Annabelle, you got us busted. Nice cock! He glanced at his companion for a brief second, then after what seemed like a go-ahead nod from the hooded girl he turned back to us and slowly got out of his seat on the bench.

Shit.

Reality set in first. Then anxiety second.

His approach was slow, methodical, calculated. With every step he took, his armour clinked menacingly, and he looked at me with contempt.

Fear was next.

I’m about to get thrown into fantasy white people jail.

“You,” he simply began.

Annabelle’s yelp was instinctual. “N-nothing suspicious going on here, Pala—”

“Apologies for earlier. I didn’t mean to cause the two of you distress.”

And then he bowed.

Huh?

“I was merely carrying out my duty, but I was overzealous in assuming you had malicious intent towards my companion. That was my mistake.”

I felt compelled to respond, seeing as he’d addressed me directly. “You are… forgiven?”

“Thank you. But I was more so referring to my status as a Templar. Forgo the need to hide your identity or put on an act around the two of us. It isn’t my place to judge the morality of another person, especially when I may very well be encouraging that same behaviour.”

He gestured at his “companion”, who was absentmindedly checking her manicured fingernails. Then he looked at Annabelle.

“Rest assured, your secret of venturing outside your sect is safe with us, Apprentice. On the honour of Water Saint Ingrid.”

“…”

Said “Apprentice” was beet red.

I was seeing red.

“Th-th-thank you,” she squeaked.

“My pleasure.”

I hoped Soren Nielsen would trip and fall.

But he didn’t. Despite the carriage being in motion and he himself being clad in heavy plate armour, Paladin Soren walked right back to the girl in the hood with annoyingly good posture and perfect poise. Then he took a seat next to her nonchalantly, looking disgustingly handsome the entire time. It then hit me that the look of “contempt” I’d imagined earlier was just his normal expression.

Holy shit. I know Nordic guys are tall and he’s wearing armour, but holy shit. He keeps bending his head so it doesn’t hit the roof.

Meanwhile, I was chalant, and very much so.

“...He’s handsome,” Annabelle said. “And tall.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You like how he looks?”

“…Yes. He’s so… royal. And gentle.”

“Uh huh. I see. Well, if he’s so royal, why don’t you go and marry him, then?”

“Perhaps I will…”

Guh.

It felt like everything I’d done so far had been pointless. This was my isekai. I was summoned to this world by the equivalent of a goddess, for fuck’s sake. Despite that, I hadn’t received any legendary weapons or royal decrees to go and defeat demon kings, I couldn’t cast a basic spell, and worse yet, the only girl (and person) I’d met so far had instantly fallen in love with the first guy she saw that wasn’t me. Aside from the fact that I had autistic knowledge of the card game that this world was supposedly based on, there was no indication that I was going to be great, let alone even become a capable warrior or mage or whatever the hell people called them in the future. I had no hope.

“Primot…”

“What the hell do you want?”

”I noticed that you have a habit of pretending to be angry,” Annabelle said.

“What kind of idiotic take is this?”

“Come on, it’s true, isn’t it? You’re actually relieved Paladin Soren came up to us and said that, aren’t you? It’s okay to be grateful, you know…”

She had a finger on her lips, and her head was tilted slightly. I snapped my neck away violently from the sight.

I blabbered like a fucking idiot. “B-but th-that’s not… That’s… Wha...”

“Ehehe. I knew it. You’re always complaining, but… deep down, you’re happy, aren’t you?”

I could feel my face burning. I bet she snuck alcohol into my system or drugged me somehow, this bloody rat. “N-no… Wait, I’m not gay, if that’s what you mean.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

“Um… okay…” Annabelle shuffled awkwardly. “That’s good to know… I think.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“That’s not what I was trying to say, though. I think… it’s more like… you should be kinder to yourself.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“I think you’re a nice guy, water nabby… water nebay? Um…” she paused for a moment, mouthing off to herself. Is she trying to say Watanabe? “Um, Primot—I think you’re a nice guy. I can tell you care about me and that you’re serious about this journey, even if you act like you aren’t.”

“…”

“So, since we have time, we should learn more about each other, you know? We had time to talk on the first day, but then… there was that incident, and ever since that we’d been spending all our time practising magic together or strategising. I feel like we’ve barely talked.”

“Hmm…”

I didn’t like how she’d turned the conversation against me when the entire reason I was mad in the first place was her fault, but this was true. I didn’t know anything about Annabelle except for bits and pieces, and talking to her was good for my anxiety, anyway. Soren and his lady explicitly stated they wouldn’t pay attention to our presence either. It’d also be really funny if I found out my white girl companion who used watakushi and explained a card game’s magic system to me as if it was a PhD subject turned out to be a country hick, so I almost brought up the subject of horses again—but just as I thought that, something more pertinent crossed my mind.

“Tell me one thing… Why aren’t you worried that Rowan is missing? Why didn’t you suspect me?”

“Ah… um…” she suddenly lost any semblance of the strange confidence she possessed earlier. “That’s… a secret.”

“I know you talked about me being powerless, so there’s no way I could have forcefully killed Rowan the Elder. If that’s really the reason, I won’t get mad.”

I wasn’t even that angry about it in the first place. Annabelle was right. I just used her comment as an excuse to find a reason to stay in this world without feeling guilty about the person I’d left behind. I could give plausible excuses about time dilation and being in a coma and all that so there was no reason to rush, but, fundamentally… I just thought that I should redeem myself before I ever showed my face to her again.

Ah. I guess that’s what she meant about being kinder to myself. Not needing to give excuses.

“But he’s still missing,” I added. “And he’s still one of your kind.”

“Um, it’s not that I’m not worried, but… it’s just really silly, so I don’t know if I should say it.”

“...What, you didn’t like Rowan?”

“Not at all!” Annabelle said. “I’ve only been an apprentice for six months, and we never spoke much, even when we were journeying out here from the sect… but that’s absolutely not the reason, no.” She shook her head. “He’s still an Elder, and I respect him for that.”

I got what she was trying to say. I suppose it was like learning that a distant relative of yours passed away. It was a bit strange given she and Rowan were travelling companions for at least as long as Annabelle and I had been, but it would be understandable if death was a more common thing. That still doesn’t explain why you were so choked up when I attempted to kill myself, though.

“Just tell me the reason, honestly.”

“So it’s okay when you hide things from me by telling silly jokes, but when I do it, you get impatient?”

“I mean… well, yeah, fine. I admit that I have issues. If I promise to be genuine with you, will you promise to be genuine with me as well?”

As the words left my mouth, my face suddenly burned up again, and the sounds of the carriage rocking up and down got inexplicably louder. What did I just say?

Annabelle smiled. “I’m going to hold you to that, okay?”

“...”

The more time I spent with Annabelle, the more things I realised about her. For starters, she was intelligent—both in terms of being knowledgeable, as well as being able to gauge my mood. She calmed me down when necessary, was serious when it was needed, and was resourceful enough to survive not just by herself but while also lugging along deadweight (me). I suppose she did lose her patience when teaching me a little bit, and she also was a bit of a klutz at times, but well… Annabelle was reliable. She was also sweet, and I suppose… if I had to admit… I guess, yeah, she was physically attractive……

…

“Anyway… the reason that—”

“Ah, um, hold on. Random question.”

“What’s up?”

“I… uh… realised that we never talked about this, Annabelle—but how old are you, exactly?”

“I turned fifteen about two months ago,” she blinked.

Hm?

“Hm? Come again?”

“I turned fifteen ab—”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I screamed.

What.

What.

I felt betrayed.

No wait, I felt screwed.

No wait. No, wait. This is a fantasy world, right? I’m safe. It’s like that one book where the guy keeps repeating over and over that the “age of consent is 15 in this world”. I’m not weird! Age is just a number. People used to get married off at 12 in the Middle Ages, and I’m riding a caravan!

…No, that’s complete bullshit.

Dear Father in Heaven,

Bless this humble soul, who, in good faith, believed my companion was 18+. In my defense, she is white, and I hadn’t been out of the house since I was in college, so let’s call it a wash and say that it’s been a while since I talked to people? P.S. She hugged me first, and I did not try to kill myself as sympathy bait to try and get her to approach me okay? Also, you already know this—but she’s like a little sister to me. Wait a second. I’m from Japan.

HUH?!

“Scooby dooby doo! Scooby dooby doo!”

“C-calm down! I’m kidding! I’m twenty.”

“I don’t believe you! Huhah!”

I put on my best Mickey Mouse impression and leaned as far away as I could from her.

“I was joking!”

I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t anymore. I never did. Now that I thought about it, there were some features about Annabelle that made her look young… but like, I couldn’t be sure, and I absolutely was not going to look at her to double check ever again until I saw a birth certificate. Is she 15 or 20? 15 or 20? The question reverberated in my mind. The moment this caravan stopped, I swore I would leave Annabelle until six years had passed and I had a wife, and I’d only ever hang out with her with a third person around. Not that it mattered—I had no romantic interest in her—obviously—but I was not about to risk being the guy that on top of being a foreigner also hung out predominantly with young girls.

“No, no, I’m really 20… Hey, why do you get to freak out when I make a joke, but when you say something weird about your world you expect me to be calm?” she pouted.

“You stay away from me, thot. Begone.”

“H-hey… I’m sorry, okay?”

“I’m not about to banter with a child. Produce proof of age first, then we’ll talk.”

“Sure! When we get to Highcrest sect, I’ll—”

A third voice chimes in.

“Something’s coming.”

It commands my attention, like a moth drawn to a flame.

I turn to face its source—the girl with amber eyes and red hair.

Her words burn with royalty.

“Are you certain, my lady?”

“I’m certain.”

Soren grabs the hilt of his blade. Reaching for his face, a navy blue magical circle appears.

The air buzzes ever so slightly, and his blonde hair floats weightlessly—the feeling of his power emanating throughout the carriage is immense. The glow brightens, and then…

In a flash, blue metal engulfs his face—a knight’s visor conjured into existence.

“Be careful, Soren. Don’t use more force than necessary.”

Her instructions are absolute.

“Of course, my lady.”

His voice is distorted.

Huh?

But then I realised I was confused. What’s coming? Certain of what, exactly? Her voice put me out of it earlier because it was so similar to Saint Alicia—maybe just a bit younger—but once I got past that, I snapped right back to my senses.

Then the lady addressed us directly. “The two of you as well. Get ready.”

“U-um, excuse me, and I’m sorry, but—”

“What the hell are you going on—”

Before I could finish my sentence, there was a loud sound like an explosion, and my world turned onto its side.