CHAPTER 3

Naturally, I could escape from here at any time. Since my Beefy Seatbelts were men, they both had their weak point. All it would take is two punches to the groin and my arms would be free. Then, a purposeful jump from the moving carriage onto the shoulder! Eight rolls forwards, stick the landing, and collect an uncontested 10.0 from the judges!

Ouch! The thought alone was painful.

But escape wasn't impossible -- if you accepted the risk of whiplash. It probably would feel as if you were thrown to the mat fifty times by a judo fighter. Whether I would survive it wasn't the real problem. My real problem was Murata!

How could I rescue him from the carriage behind us? And if I jumped out onto the street, wouldn't the next carriage just roll over me, anyway? Damn it, why did I deserve this? I hadn't even committed any crimes!

I had to come up with a plausible reason why the carriage would have to stop. Then I would just have to make it through the door and leg it! A potty break, that was the answer! But how could I get Murata to play along? I gave telepathy a try.

Peeing, now -- Muraken. You need to pee -- Muraken, I pleaded with him in my mind.

The musclemen next to me started to fidget restlessly on their seats. Damn it, notyou!

As we left the harvested fields behind, a broad steppe landscape widened before us. The vegetation was so pathetically thin that it barely covered the ground. Winter was on its way.

All of a sudden, Flynn shut the curtains.

"Drive faster!" she commanded in a tense voice and crossed her arms in front of her breasts. Small worry wrinkles appeared on her forehead; she seemed to be brooding intensely on something.

Gwendal also made that kind of face all the time. With a bad conscience, I'd forced all the state matters off on him. No wonder the poor thing was swimming in worries.

Flynn didn't have it much better. She had taken over the role of her dead husband and did everything possible to protect her country. The folded mask on her lap spoke volumes.

One of the musclemen suddenly pricked his ears. The thundering of the horses' hooves had changed their rhythm. Something disturbed the harmony.

"Horsemen!" Everyone abruptly went pale.

"It's the Steppe Brotherhood! Drive faster!" Flynn cried.

"Faster, Milady? That's impossible!"

Flynn's driver hung like a frantic jockey from the coachman's seat. He looked like he was about to bite his tongue off.

"You've got to lose them somehow! They can't find out we're heading west!"

"Why not?" I asked agitatedly. "What happens if they find out!?"

The whole carriage rocked like crazy and we were thoroughly shaken up on the seats.

"Carolia and the Steppe Brotherhood officially belong to Small Simaron," Flynn explained. "If we pay a visit to Big Simaron on our own initiative, our colonial power wouldn't take it lightly."

Once again with this ominous "Brotherhood." Flynn always scrunched up her forehead in disgust when she spoke of it. These strange brothers probably got the same classification as Maxine to her.

We'd recently had to beat up a little on Nigel Weiz Maxine, the guy with the ponytail. I kept involuntarily remembering the cry he let out as he fell from an upper floor. It was hard to believe he could come away from that unscathed.

"They're catching up to us," Flynn noted as she risked a glance behind the carriage.

I turned around too, along with my Seatbelts. They had already caught up to our rear guard; four or five of the riders were about as far back as Murata's carriage. In spite of our four horsepower, we didn't stand a chance. It was only a matter of time.

"What kind of guys are these, anyway? Like yakuza?" I asked.

"They're Small Simaron's henchmen. Those dishonorable, spineless fools lick the boots of the powerful. If they find out where we're headed, they'll be only too happy to betray us. For praise from the mouth of His All-powerful Highness Saralegi,the Seer, they would do anything!" Flynn snarled.

Saralegi -- Maxine had mentioned that name too. That guy was supposed to be the king of Small Simaron or something. Flynn had hatefully called him "The Seer" -- was that some kind of title?

Our carriage suddenly decelerated. Flynn let out a hysterical cry. She'd long lost the control to portray her husband.

"Why are we stopping?! Keep driving! We've got to lose them!"

"Milady, we are stuck in the middle of a herd of sheep."

"A herd of sheep?" Flynn repeated as she stumbled to the small window and looked forwards.

Sheep, sheep, sheep, as far as the eye could see. A giant herd of sheep had brought this express highway for carriages to a complete standstill.

As the wheels creaked and groaned, Flynn lost her composure completely. She repeatedly and pointlessly shoved a cushion from one side of the carriage to the other. "Oh dear, what am I supposed to do now? How do I get out of this? And then those annoying customs on top of it all, shit!" slipped out of Flynn's mouth in an unladylike manner. She was about to have a panic attack.

While Flynn was pulling her hair out, the carriage went slower and slower until it came to a complete stop in the middle of the herd of sheep. The wandering livestock had us surrounded. Countless wool labels buzzed around in my head: hand wash only!

Parting the cream-colored sea of sheep, two members of the Steppe Brotherhood approached.

"They can't find out that I'm alone," Flynn said.

"What do you mean, alone? We've pretty much got a whole traveling party," I said.

"Oh, yes, you're right about that. It's very comforting not to be alone," Flynn sighed, but right after that she cried, "Oh goodness, no! That only makes everything worse! In Small Simaron, women are forbidden to travel alone, but it's even worse when a woman is with a man who isn't her husband!"

"Flynn, calm down! Things will work themselves out. Take a deep breath!"

My attempt to get her to relax seemed to be working. Flynn regained a little of her composure. She laid her hand on her chest to settle her breathing.

"Many thanks, Captain Crusoe. I'm feeling a little better already. We have to get this situation under control somehow. After all, my task is not yet complete. I must bring you and Mr. Robinson into the motherland of Big Simaron."

The only question left was, as a prisoner, what should I do in this situation? Should I seize the opportunity and make a run for it? Wouldn't we just run right into the arms of the Steppe Brotherhood? And would those gangsters treat us like guests or sink us to the bottom of Tokyo Bay as enemies? For now, I decided to wait.

"I'll speak to the men," Flynn said.

"Stay cool, Boss!" I called to her.

Flynn stepped slowly out of the carriage and walked towards our pursuers.

There were two strongly built men with clipped beards like Maxine's, wearing bright blue riding uniforms.

"Those are afros!" I cried.

It was true! The superb brown hairdos, the same color as their horses, were afros just like in the picture books. I really wanted to take a photo. Real afros! Not those imitation pseudo-hairstyles in Japan.

Flynn seemed to be complaining about something to the men. She raised her voice. "But Father!"

Father?

"Flynn and the afro-man are father and daugher?!"

"Yep," one of my Seatbelts said.

"I've already explained it to you, Father!" Flynn continued. "It's not my intention to travel alone to Big Simaron. Sir Norman is with me. His health is poor, so we want to consult with a good doctor in the motherland."

"If your husband needs a doctor, my child, all you'd have to do is turn to the Brotherhood, or to His Majesty Saralegi. And besides that, my son in law has neglected to pay a visit to the motherland for three years, using his health as the excuse. So my doubts there are more than justified, even you must admit it."

The truth about Norman Gilbit had apparently not made the rounds.

"Father! Are you trying to imply that Norman is not capable of attending to the duties of governing and leading the people?!"

"But no, my child, I wasn't saying that at all. I'm only saying that if Sir Norman isn't capable of leading the people because of his illness, you can count on us at any time. We're family, after all."

"Carolia is doing fine on its own. Despite his illness and the accident, Sir Norman is absolutely capable of governing our country, I mean, the autonomous region under Small Simaron's sovereignty. Your concern is completely unnecessary, Father!"

"And so why is it that I never get to lay eyes on my son in law?!"

Flynn faltered, her self-confident look seemed unsure for a moment. She knew the answer to that question better than anyone: Norman could no longer be counted among the living. Perhaps she could fool foreigners like Murata and me, but her own father?

"Flynn!" he called suddenly. "Have you forgotten your own background? Although you are Carolian now, you still belong to the Steppe Brotherhood. Don't forget, my child! What was the reason you were married into the Gilbit family?"

"You won't get your wish, Father!" The daughter lifted her head once more. "I know what you and my brother are thinking. I understand what all your plans are in aid of. I won't deliver you Carolia. Even if in the future, Sir Norman's health leaves something to be desired, I won't be turning to you for help!"

Shocked, I pulled myself back from the window. When I moved to sit back down in my original spot, muscleman number 2 tugged me kindly by the elbow, so that I didn't plop down onto his lap.

So what was going on? Flynn Gilbit's father appeared to be the boss of the Steppe Brotherhood. He married his daughter into the Gilbit clan to get control of Carolia. So Sir Norman was in danger of being thrown from the throne.

And the time was ripe now! The time had come to take Carolia completely under the power of the Steppe Brotherhood! But the plan didn't work, unfortunately for him. The father had miscalculated. His honest, always obedient, young daughter didn't exist any more!

I registered a gleam out of the corner of my eye. On Flynn's seat across from me, the silver mask glinted in the winter sunlight.

"Hey, you musclemen. Could you let go of the seatbelt for a moment?"

My fingers reached for the mask, almost as if it had called out to them.

Wait, slow down! Think this through, Yuri! This woman imprisoned Murata and me, and is trying to drag us to Simaron, which is the enemy of the demons! Besides that, Big Simaron possessed the exact weapons used in the ambush. Again I heard Conrad's voice and my breath got stuck in my throat.

Flynn was in league with those lowlifes. So why should I take Flynn's side in this?

It was all about territorial disputes. As a general rule, family members were often misused in such situations. The afro-man wasn't the only one to ever use such dirty tactics. Why get worked up about it? Why lose my head over it? Stay cool, man. Always keep your cool.

"Damn it! When was I ever cool-headed?!"

I grabbed the silver mask and pulled it over my head. The material felt warm. Perhaps the sunlight falling through the window had warmed it. Or was it, perhaps, the warmth of heart that anyone taking the role of Norman Gilbit was required to possess?

I wore the face of the one whose role Flynn had played for three years.

I gathered all my courage together, stepped out of the carriage, and yelled: "I've had enough already!"

Surprised, the afro-man and his daughter spun around.

Under the mask, my face melted into a broad grin. That was intended to look rakish, but unfortunately only seemed whiny. Whatever -- no one could see it anyway!

"I'm Norman Gilbit! In full possession of my powers and completely capable of leading the country. My heath is once again... urgh!"

As I took a forceful step forwards, I had stupidly forgotten the carriage step. My left foot swished around in the air. I toppled forwards and plonked down in the middle of the dirty white sea of sheep wool.

"Nmo! Nmo! Nmo! Nmo!" roared the sheep in panic.

"F... forgive me, how clumsy of me..." I stammered more to the sheep than in the direction of Flynn and company.

When I straightened myself up again, I was hip-deep in sheep. The sheep of this country were a little bigger than those back on Earth.

"Captain Cru... my dear!" called Flynn, surprised and baffled. She tried to tell me something with gestures -- she touched her chin with her thin fingers and opened and shut her mouth vigorously. Was she afraid I wasn't getting enough air?

I could see better through the mask than I'd anticipated, and my nose and mouth had plenty of room. So breathing didn't cause me much trouble at all.

The afro-man hastened down from his horse and stepped up agitatedly to his son in law.

"Sir Norman...! You must excuse my impolite remarks. Since I haven't seen you for so long, I was overcome by one or two doubts. If my silly suspicions reached your ears, I can well understand that you would be angry. But be reassured, it's only a small joke between me and my daughter that you will hopefully forgive."

"But no, dont apologise! Who could blame you? After all, it's been three years since we last saw each other. Although, the main reason for that is the fact that my wife doesn't care to visit her parents house."

I didn't have the foggiest idea how to act. What kind of guy was this Norman Gilbit, anyway? A chummy tone was surely uncalled for, so I decided to go for snooty.

"What were you thinking?" I boasted. "That I wouldn't be a suitable leader? What a brazen insult!"

Flynn, standing behind her father, shook her head vigorously. Apparently I wasn't playing my role up to her expectations.

"Although I am newly risen from my sickbed, I do my best to be a good prince. My steadfastness! For my citizens and country, my life is not too ailing, hohohohoho."

My beautiful platinum-blond wife pointed her finger at my jaw and sighed. To judge by Flynn's unhappy expression, I needed to really put my back into it to hoodwink my father in law.

Imagine it, Yuri -- the life of a masked man! The terrible childhood illness, the marriage to a gorgeous woman born of a clan with eyes on your country. On top of that, your country is overrun by a neighboring superpower and now war stands yet again before the door. Three years ago you had an awful accident where you even lost your ability to speak...

Uh oh!

"My dear Sir Norman, when did you regain the ability to speak?"

Whaaaaaaat?!

Shit! I had totally forgotten that Norman couldn't speak normally any more! Geez, how bad can it get? That's what happens when you frantically try to hold on to the life of a dead person!

"Uhhhhh -- my voice -- is -- errrrrrr..."

Suspicion grew in my opponent.

"Is it really you? Are you really and truly Sir Norman, my son in law? Do you swear your love to my daughter?"

"By all the gods -- I love Flynn!"

The Steppe Brotherhood's faces remained hard. My confession of love had apparently lacked conviction.

It suddenly became damp under the mask. Sweat began to run down my neck. I was overtaken by an urgent desire to strike hard with a big weapon, and then to run away as fast as possible. Damn it, where was a weapon when you really needed one?

Then it happened.

"I'm the miracle healer that has brought the voice back to Sir Norman Gilbit!"

Ken Murata stepped out of the carriage behind us.

Theatrically spreading his arms wide, he hopped lightfootedly down the steps -- and landed right in the sheep, just like I did.

He begged their forgiveness and crawled along the ground, looking for something. "My glasses, my glasses..."

"Err, you weren't wearing any."

"I hadn't believed him to be such an oaf. I guess I overestimated your friend," Flynn said with resignation.

"Sir Norman, who is this person?" The afro-man's question was more than warranted. Anyone would find Murata suspicious, flanked by his two Amazonian Seatbelts.

"Th... that is Robinson, my close friend."

"May I introduce myself? Robin is my name! Nice to meet you!" Murata pulled off a sweeping bow, as if he wanted to hand out his business card.

"It's no wonder you're concerned, when you've heard nothing from your daughter's husband for three years. And what a shock it must be for you that he can suddenly speak again! But please don't worry. I, Tokyo Magic Robinson, the miracle healer, have accomplished this. With the power of agaricus, propolis, and the extract of the Chinese Soft Frog, his voice sounds more beautiful than ever before! It's true, right, sweetie pies?"

"Yes, boss!" piped the Amazons.

Murata, I can't believe it! What century do you come from, anyway?! How the devil did you pull off making these Amazon Seatbelts into your assistants?

One of the muscle-packed beauties handed Murata a small bottle.

"Here, this is it. This miracle cure heals the common cold and even encourages hair growth. Its effect is simply staggering. May I ask for your attention, please?!"

Robinson smashed the container on the ground. Accompanied by a powerful explosion, thick yellow clouds rose to the sky.

"Captain Crusoe! Don't stand there like you're rooted to the spot! Get going!" Murata urged.

"Damn it, Murata, where are you?!"

"Nmo!"

Scared to death, the sheep herd stormed off with thundering hooves. There was a concert of coughing from the Steppe Brotherhood. Flynn's soldiers came running by. The musclemen blocked the path of the horsemen.

"Milady, you must flee!"

They were loyal down to the last muscle fiber.

"Hurry, hold onto the coat of one of the sheep!" yelled Flynn.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?!"

"Good heavens, Captain! Surely you know how to ride a sheep! I thought you were a soldier!"

In the distance, I heard someone call out, "Hey you sheep thieves! Come back!"

Sorry, but we're really in a hurry.