Just as his guest had predicted, for Adlet’s sentence, they settled on an indefinite imprisonment. Well, that’s that , he thought, not bothering to object. Alone in his jail cell, the warrior waited for his wounds to heal.
A few days later, Adlet discovered a gift in his cell—a sword small enough to hide in his bed. He figured this meant that when the time came, he should use it to protect himself. He didn’t know if the girl had arranged it or if he had some other fan.
A month passed, then two. He continued training in his cell so as not to get out of shape. This Brave-killer he’d heard about didn’t turn up.
After three months, his wounds were completely healed. Right around the time Adlet was starting to consider breaking out, something strange happened. One night, the fierce pounding of his heart woke him. His entire body felt hot, and his chest seethed with indescribable excitement. The feeling passed after about ten seconds, and then a faintly glowing crest appeared on Adlet’s right hand. The Evil God had awakened, and Adlet had been chosen to be one of the Braves of the Six Flowers.
“Huh,” Adlet muttered, looking at the crest. “That was surprisingly simple.” He had imagined that his entire body would be enveloped in light or that the Spirit of Fate would appear and order him to defeat the Evil God or something. Feeling a little underwhelmed, Adlet stared at his hand. After a moment, he realized this wasn’t the time. “Hey! Somebody come over here!” Adlet banged on the iron bars of his cell as he called the guards. Once they knew he had been selected as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers, they couldn’t keep him locked up. But if the guards didn’t come, he wasn’t going to get anywhere. “Isn’t anyone there? I was chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers!”
The interior of his cell was strangely silent. He couldn’t detect the presence of any guards at all. Oh, well , he thought, I guess I’ll bust out , and that was when a sudden commotion sounded from the foot of the stairs.
“Why have you come to a place like this? What on earth are you here for?!”
“Batoal! I’m in a hurry! Please, don’t get in my way!”
Both voices were familiar. One of them belonged to the girl who smelled of apples. Adlet figured the other one was the old knight he’d fought in the coliseum. He could also hear the thumping of many footsteps coming from behind the two.
“Adlet! Were you chosen?” the girl cried, running up to Adlet’s cell. She wasn’t wearing the maid uniform from before. She was clad in magnificent white armor, a slim sword belted at her waist. On her head, she wore a helmet in the shape of rabbit’s ears. Adlet had heard somewhere that wearing helmets with animal motifs was a tradition of Piena’s royal family.
The moment he saw her, Adlet understood who she really was and also what a fool he’d been. Most people would’ve figured that out , he thought with a wry smile.
Standing before the cell, the girl said, “It’s been quite some time since we last saw each other. Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Nashetania Rouie Piena Augustra, the crown princess of Piena and the current Saint of Blades.”
The apple-scented girl—Nashetania—lifted up her breastplate and showed him the Crest of the Six Flowers near her collarbone. “I have now been selected as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers. I’m very pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Adlet Mayer, the strongest man in the world. Pleased to meet you, too.” Adlet showed her the crest on his right hand.
“Princess! What are you doing?! You don’t have the time to be talking to someone like him!” The old knight ran up to the two of them, but then Adlet showed him, too, the Crest of the Six Flowers on his right hand. The knight’s eyes widened, and he fell silent.
“We must go now. Our time is limited.” Nashetania unlocked the door of Adlet’s cell, and he stepped out. Ignoring the old knight’s cries as he tried to stop them, the pair broke into a run.
“Did you get us horses?” asked Adlet.
“They’re over this way!”
The two of them leaped out a window and landed on the grass. There, a woman who looked to be Nashetania’s maid was awkwardly leading two horses toward them.
“You’re all prepared, huh?” Adlet observed.
“Yes,” replied Nashetania. “Let us be off!”
Together, they straddled their horses and set off at a gallop. The old knight and the soldiers shouted after them, clamoring about a departure ceremony, an audience with the king, and other trivial matters. Looking at Nashetania’s profile as she rode beside him, Adlet smiled. It looked like he was going to get along with this girl. Apparently, she was thinking the same thing, as she turned to him and grinned.
✦ ✦ ✦
One thousand years ago, a woman known as the Saint of the Single Flower defeated the Evil God and sealed it away on the westernmost edge of the continent, a land called the Balca Peninsula. Presently, the area fell under the territory of the Land of Iron Mountains, Gwenvaella. The peninsula was shaped sort of like a flask, with the narrow end attached to the continent. The plan was for the Braves of the Six Flowers to gather at the base of that peninsula. Every warrior who demonstrated his or her power before the Spirit of Fate at a temple surely knew that. No matter from where in the world each of the six Braves hailed, if they waited at that point, they would inevitably meet the others.
After the Evil God awakened, it would take a while for the creature to regain its full strength. Before the Evil God’s powers were replenished, the six Braves would have to make it to the very tip of the Balca Peninsula to seal the beast away once more. It would take the Evil God at least thirty days from the time of its awakening to reach its peak strength. Though that seemed like more than enough time, in actuality, it was not. Over ten thousand fiends lay in wait on that peninsula for the Braves of the Six Flowers. Only six warriors would step into that realm. It was bound to be a long and difficult battle. During the past two conflicts, over half of the six Braves had sacrificed their lives. But those who feared death would not be chosen to begin with.
The Balca Peninsula was rarely called by its formal name. This expansive swath of earth, eagerly awaiting the revival of the Evil God, resounded with the wailing of fiends. That was why the place was called the Howling Vilelands.