The Combat Baker and Automaton Waitress: Volume 1 Read online

  Prologue: A Mechanical Doll’s Retrospective

  When was it, exactly, that I came into this world? According to the oldest record stored inside me, I was born on the tenth day of the fifth month in the year 915 of the Europea Calendar. I was one among countless identical units, the last of a mass-produced series in the military arsenal of the Principality of Wiltia.

  At that time, I had consciousness and knowledge, but I lacked will. Having a will of my own wasn’t considered necessary because my actions were determined by the person piloting me. His will became my will. This was how I was created.

  My name—every unit’s name—was L-Arms Type Cyclops. Our model number was LS-6R. We were humanoid assault weapons, commonly known as Hunter Units; eight and one-half meters in length, weighing nine tons, with oil circulating throughout our metal bodies and a Rezanium reactor as our main power source.

  I was an AI installed in the machine to assist and support its pilot. In order to bring victory to our creator, the Principality of Wiltia, we were built to fight and to be rebuilt when broken. That was the only “life” we knew. Each of us was an individual, yet we were all one. There was no need to question this. There was no need for doubt to cross our minds. Or so I thought...

  “So you’re going to be my partner from now on? I’ll be counting on you.”

  This was Captain Lud Langart, although, according to the records, he was still a warrant officer. I met him when I was rolled out of the armory and assigned to his unit. Lud had been deployed in the Special Forces, but the unit commander poached him for his division.

  Lud got inside of me, sat down in the seat and mulled over something for a while.

  “Avei... How does that sound?”

  At first I did not understand him, but it seemed he had thought of a personalized designation for me.

  “Understood, Warrant Officer Langart. The personal code ‘Avei’ has been registered.”

  It was said that a name would strengthen the bond between AI and pilot, but I wondered what purpose there was in increasing our intimacy. We Hunter Units were mass-produced weapons. Was there any benefit in giving us names and creating a personal attachment to us?

  I was no longer just a part of the collective us, but an individual, known as Avei.

  Warrant Office Langart possessed the kind of aptitude that was ideal for a Hunter Unit pilot. He pushed my capabilities to their limits, defeating a great number of enemies and annihilating countless enemy camps.

  In an effort to raise morale, Wiltia generously promoted and gave preferential treatment to soldiers who distinguished themselves. Warrant Officer Langart single-handedly defeated a Greyten landship cruiser, and was promoted two ranks up to lieutenant, then given permission to paint his unit in a color of his choice. Lieutenant Langart’s superior officer had painted his unit all black, and was known as the Devil’s Black Spear. Lieutenant Langart painted me a sparkling, silvery white.

  “You look great, Avei!” Lieutenant Langart was full of satisfaction as he inspected my freshly painted body.

  While I acknowledged that this served some morale-boosting purpose for soldiers, it had no meaning whatsoever to me. If changing my color was enough to make me stronger, the war would already be won. If that was the case, the weapons department would create new colors for all the units. When Lieutenant Langart asked my opinion of my new color, I said exactly this to him.

  “That response is just like you, Avei.” Lieutenant Langart gave a grin, and as he said this, he tapped the console inside my cockpit. It was almost like he was gently patting a child on the head.

  A mysterious interference ran through me. It was neither bug, nor error. It would leave no lasting effect as far as my functionality was concerned. But, from that day on, I began to experience a strange and unusual sensation.

  On the battlefield, the enemy’s rifles and small arms couldn’t pierce my armor. But coastal artillery and tank guns were a different story. When I was grazed by such an attack, knowing that just a few seconds stood between life and death for my lieutenant, a furious noise ran through my body.

  Why couldn’t I move even faster? Why couldn’t I detect our enemies sooner? Even at full capacity, I could not perfectly protect the life of the lieutenant inside me. Every time I realized this, the noise inside of me became more violent.

  One day, I unintentionally simulated a particular scenario. If for some reason the lieutenant was unable to act as my pilot—if he had some physical or mental problem or if his life ended—I would be provided a different pilot, and I would support and protect that person. When I came to that conclusion, a new and terrible noise was born.

  The seat that fit the lieutenant’s body, the shift pedal and levers that were adjusted for the lieutenant alone, everything would be reset. The coating of white on my body would be peeled off. Even worse, a person other than the lieutenant would call me Avei.

  I hated it! My thoughts shocked me. Hated it? Was it disgust? Denial? How foolish! I was a mass-produced weapon—a manufactured product. Nothing but a tool. If my assigned pilot became unfit for military operations, I would be provided a new one. It was a fact.

  Nevertheless, all the interferences inside me merged and loudly rejected such an idea. It was a situation that I couldn’t comprehend. I had no need for a will of my own. All I needed was an objective: to bring victory to the Principality of Wiltia.

  No, even that was impudent. My sole purpose was to execute the correct action, whenever my levers were pulled, my switches were pressed, and my pedals were stepped on. But wasn’t I complaining as if I was born just to meet the lieutenant? Born? What a thing for a machine to say!

  I didn’t report any of this to the lieutenant. If this thinking was a critical error in my system, I could be dismantled and destroyed.

  But there wasn’t anything wrong with me. Indeed, the captain—he had been promoted again—would hop inside of me, the same as always and ask, “Ready to go, partner?” and I would function as I should. Without any problems. Without a single issue. I would continue to protect the captain, and the captain would operate me, with his will becoming my own as we raced across the battlefield. I was fine as long as I could increase our successes on the battlefield.

  But, suddenly our time to part ways had come. On the eastern front, Wiltia would have a decisive battle against their bitter enemy, the August Federation.

  “Pretty soon, this war’s going to be over.”

  With the siege of Morghausenx Fortress setting the final stage, the captain said these words. If we could win this battle, the Great Europea War that had enveloped the entire continent would come to an end. It would end as a victory for the Allied Forces, led by the Principality of Wiltia.

  As long as there was a war, and as long as there were battles to be fought, I would stay with the captain. Yet, I knew that would not happen.

  “Captain, optimistic thinking greatly reduces your chance of survival. Please restrain yourself from these thoughts.” If I had been a human child, my voice would have been trembling as I said this. Ignoring my warnings, the captain continued to talk.

  “Once the war is over... there are things I want to do, things I want to become.”

  I knew. He had told me before how he would continue his life outside of battle, and the way he would use his remaining time. Even though he was called the Silver Wolf, and praised as the pride of Wiltia’s Iron Knights, this didn’t fulfill him or make him truly happy.

  “What exactly... are those things?” Even though I had just told him not to give in to such wishful thinking, I couldn’t help asking. I wanted to follow the captain wherever he went. Even off the battlefield, I
wanted to remain as this man’s partner.

  “Once this battle’s over, I’ll tell you.” Saying this, the captain patted my console, just like he always had. With a gentle hand, as if he was calming a little girl.

  But, I knew. No matter what he was going to say, I wouldn’t be able to follow him. Because, after all, I was a weapon. I was a tool that mowed down enemy infantry with my machine guns, stepped over trenches, kicked in and smashed enemy garrisons, crushed fleeing armies underfoot, and peeled off the armor of enemy tanks. As long as I was who I was, I could not stay with the captain.

  Before long, the war ended and the captain left the military. I was left behind. For a moment, I tried to imagine, if the captain’s wish hadn’t been fulfilled, would I have been able to stay with him? But, that line of thought quickly disappeared. More than anything else, I wished that the captain would realize his goals and be rewarded with success.

  The noise inside of me grew so strong it enveloped me completely. I didn’t care anymore. If the captain wasn’t with me, there was no longer a reason for me to exist. There might still be a reason for my existence as part of the Hunter Unit, but no reason as Avei.

  I had no will of my own. The captain was my will and my everything. Without a will, there was no reason to remain in this world. All of my mechanisms were suspended. I was like a corpse, branded as useless, soon to be turned into scrap iron along with the other weapons. Or that was supposed to happen.

  I wondered exactly how much time had passed. It might have been an hour, or it might have been one hundred years.

  “Hello there.” A man called out to me.

  “My name is Daian Fortuner. Those who know me refer to me as a sorcerer.”

  The man’s gestures were like a clown’s but he spoke like a con man. Was he a sorcerer, I thought, or just a fraud?

  “My, my, you seem to have quite good intuition, don’t you?”

  ———?!

  Who or what exactly was this man? Was he reading my thoughts?

  “I have asked this question to all of your sisters but none gave a convincing answer. None were even able to understand the question.” The man folded his arms and pointed a finger towards his head, posing as if he was in agony. His gesture only annoyed me.

  “Ahahahahaha! Have I been figured out? You’re a funny one! You might be able to give me the answer that I’m looking for.”

  What exactly did he want me to answer?

  “It’s a simple question. Would you, by chance, like to become human?”

  Huh? Become... human? That wasn’t even possible! Only a sorcerer... no, only a wizard from a fairytale would be able to do this. But, if I were human... I would be able to go after the captain. I would be with him once again. At the captain’s side, I could support him and help him find what he was looking for. I would be able to remain as me!

  “Marvelous! The only one of your six hundred and sixty-six siblings who has given birth to your own ego!”

  In a world where death and life intersect and so many thousands of lives are scattered, outside God’s command, a soul was born from a mixture of oil and blood, steel and flesh.

  I was reborn. It was the third month of the year 920 E.C. when the wind began to gently blow and the footsteps of spring could finally be heard.

  Introduction

  Before, there was one giant empire that ruled the entire continent. The name of that empire was Europea and the imperial capital stood in the middle of the continent. Hundreds of towers reached to the heavens, ships that traveled between the stars floated in the sky, and it was said that its science was akin to magic, including the ability to raise someone from the dead.

  However, one day the capital vanished. Without any warning, on a day one thousand years ago, the capital disappeared as if by the careless hands of God, and was erased from history.

  Often mocked as barbarian chieftains, those who remained were the lords of the lands far from the capital. They began to battle for sovereignty over the vast territory. The war—a grand battle of inheritance, so to speak—continued for a thousand years with several fleeting periods of peace, and Europea was never unified again.

  Then the Great Europea War plunged the entire continent into turmoil for ten years until it was ended by the Allied Forces, headed by the Principality of Wiltia, which commanded the Hunter Units.

  The tough armor of these steel titans nullified the small arms fire of enemy infantry, and the units were able to bear heavy weaponry. They brought about astonishing military achievements wherever they were deployed.

  Despite the natural fortifications surrounding it, Makstia, the capital city of the August Federation, fell and a single platoon of Hunter Units demolished the pride of the Greyten Empire—their landship cruisers. A peace treaty favorable to the Allied Forces was signed, and with it, the war came to a close.

  With the fighting over, a number of events came to pass. Some nations merged, others disappeared, and still others were divvied up. This gave birth to a number of hostile groups: the defeated, the oppressed, and those who detested the fact that their home country was gone or taken over.

  Although insignificant in comparison, in a little town, a small bakery opened for business.

  Chapter 1: Good Service Starts with Your Smile

  The fourth month of 920 E.C.—

  In the newly-formed Pelfe region of the Principality of Wiltia stood the small mining town of Organbaelz, and on the edge of that town was a bakery called Tockerbrot. It had opened a year ago and was now in danger of going out of business.

  “There we go! It looks great. Here, Jacob, have a taste!”

  Inside of Tockerbrot, the young owner passed his newest, fresh-from-the-oven creation to the young boy, Jacob, one of the owner’s few friends and a regular customer.

  “Munch, munch... hmm, what is this?” Jacob asked, as he bit into the enticingly-fragrant bread. There was a sweet paste packed into the soft, fresh bread.

  “You like it? It’s an invention from the east, called anpan. It’s filled with a paste made from sweet, boiled beans. Over there it’s known as a type of sweet roll.”

  The baker had learned this from an acquaintance from the Far East during the war.

  “It’s intriguing, isn’t it? This is the kind of bread that a country of rice-eating people comes up with. Even the yeast they use is different; they ferment rice to make something called ‘kome-koji’ and use that to make bread.”

  Oddly enough, it paired very well with milk.

  “Yeah, it’s good.”

  “Really? In that case, it’s a success!”

  The owner was delighted with Jacob’s seal of approval. This bread couldn’t be found anywhere else in Wiltia—or anywhere else on the entire Europea continent.

  “I’m sure that with my new, mysterious eastern-style bread, the customers will come rolling in!” The owner clenched his fist, as if he was grabbing tightly onto his hopes for the future.

  “I still think it’s impossible.”

  Jacob’s reply doused his optimism in an instant.

  “Why?!”

  Even though Jacob was only twelve years old, he held his fingers up to his forehead and shook his head like a cunning old gentleman admonishing the owner for his foolishness.

  “I’ll start by saying that I think you’re a good guy.”

  “Oh, um, well, thank you.” The owner made a puzzled face and wondered why Jacob was saying this.

  “I think you’re diligent and passionate, and you’re always eager to learn.”

  “Oh, heh, don’t make me blush...” The owner looked down in embarrassment and scratched his head.

  “But!” Jacob thrust out his finger, as if to flip up the owner’s drooping head. “The real reason this bakery isn’t popular... is you, Lud! Your face scares them away!”

  Tockerbrot was in trouble and the reason was clear. The bakery had no customers. It wasn’t because the bread didn’t taste good. In fact, through the owner’s hard work, the taste co
ntinued to improve steadily over time. And it wasn’t because the bread was too expensive. The baker’s prices were as low as possible, low enough that children could buy it with their spending money. The owner hadn’t neglected to do market research, either. He discovered the regional foods in the area and had an understanding of the flavors that the local residents preferred.

  While it was true that the bakery was located outside the central part of the town, it was still on the main street. So the lack of customers couldn’t be attributed to its location, either.

  More important than anything else, there was no other bakery in town. Everyone in town either baked their own bread or they were forced to buy the dry and tasteless bread sold on the peddler’s truck, which was closer to crackers than real, fresh bread.

  The lack of business wasn’t caused by its competition. The main reason the bakery was failing was Lud Langart. Lud frightened people.

  “Gaght!”

  Looking at the stricken face of his friend, Jacob furrowed his brow.

  Lud knew. He knew that Jacob would never deliberately hurt someone. So now, if Jacob was saying this, no matter how hard it was for Lud to hear, there was no doubt that he was telling the truth.

  Lud had thought it strange for a long time—when he greeted someone on the street, he would get no response. Children would run from him, young women would hide themselves in the shadows, and now and again even men would walk the other way at the sight of him. Lud assumed this treatment was because he was a foreigner.

  Jacob was almost half Lud’s age, but Lud thought of him as an equal and as a friend. He knew Jacob would only tell him the truth.

  “A-Am I really... that scary?”

  The reality was hard to accept.

  “I mean, you’re weirdly tall and absurdly buff, your eyes are way too sharp and penetrating, and above all, there is that cross scar on your cheek. When you walk into a bakery and see someone like that, it’s scary!”

  “Th-That’s...”

  Lud was born with his height, he was in the habit of building up his muscles, and being a baker was hard work, so his arms grew even bigger.