City Series Volume 5 -A Chapter 6

03/26/1944 - 03/27/1944

Every time we turned a corner the bicyclette bounced along the stone pavement

Urgent.

Investigation here in Germany has confirmed that the Attesor Project was carried out within France. The rest is counting on the continued investigation at your branch. These detailed doc.u.ments concerning the Attesor Project are to be given to Lieutenant Colonel Heinz Berge who is thought to be the closest to the investigation. Authority on the matter will later be given to the Lieutenant Colonel, so follow his instructions. We look forward to seeing the results.

Today is probably going to be a long day and I could be arrested at any time, so I'm writing this first entry during the day. I am currently near my appartement. I'm writing this while sitting on the railing of the Place de la Concorde bridge.

People tend to only Sign while walking, so no one sees me sitting on the railing.

This is best when I want to be alone.

Now, Rosetta came to my room today. Right now, she should be preparing the ingredients that Mallette and the others bought. Most of the plates in my room were "unusable", so I left to do some shopping while also gathering my thoughts.

I want to think seriously about what to do next if I'm not arrested in the next few days.

1. Search for Rose Francisca's House

The thought occurred to me while I was out shopping. Part of the reason I came to Paris was to search for that. Before I'm arrested, I want to give her the letter my grandma left with me.

2. Should I partic.i.p.ate in the Heavy Barrel battle at the school festival?

If Phillip is right, partic.i.p.ating would be very dangerous. The Germans will almost certainly use their special slot to send in someone quite skilled. I would be at risk if I partic.i.p.ated and fought back. But someone else will be at risk if I don't partic.i.p.ate. Protecting people is a Knight Striker's job, so I have to partic.i.p.ate.

But to be honest, I'm scared. The events of the last few days have left me a little off balance.

I need to give both those issue serious thought. Even without the Attesor Project, I'm pretty busy, aren't I?

Come to think of it, that Heavy Barrel practice is this afternoon.

It's voluntary and I don't plan to partic.i.p.ate, but I am curious about it.

< p="">

It is midday. Lunchtime.>

It's this late already? We're going to spend the afternoon on our cooking battle, so I need to get focused and get back there.

Rosetta is waiting. I wonder what she would do.

If I was arrested and couldn't see her anymore, would she still want to be human?

I am writing an entry today as well.

I normally write my journal entries at home. But today I am visiting Lady Beretta's home and a lot has happened. So I am using the time until the food is ready to write some of it now.

I am writing this on some paper Lady Beretta gave me because she was not going to use it.

Lady Beretta is in Lady Mallette's room next door to clean up for everyone to eat together.

I am using Lady Beretta's room to write this. It is a strange room. It is smaller than any room I am familiar with and yet it has so many things inside it. A bicyclette tire. A bag. A parasol. A few folding chairs. Books. A toolbox. And a pendulum clock on the floor. I can see no rhyme or reason to where or how things are stored.

But I digress. I need to write about the day's events. Lady Beretta arrived in the morning today.

I had known I would see her at 10 because we had agreed to it the evening before. She was carrying a larger bag than normal. I was curious and asked what was inside.

She said she has too many secrets and thus needs to carry them all around with her. She then suggested we get going. I felt like I was forgetting some things and could ask more questions. But I did as she said.

It was my first time to ride a bicyclette. Lady Beretta was driving it. I was further luggage on top of the large bag she had tied to the luggage rack.

She said I did not need to worry because she would drive safely.

We then rode down the hill in front of the mansion. We moved really fast.

The ground at the bottom of the hill approached rapidly and the wind was strong. The only way to support myself was to hold tightly to Lady Beretta's hips. I shut my eyes and cried out without meaning to.

I felt myself shaking and realized we had already left the mansion's gate and entered Boulogne Forest.

We were moving so fast. I think Lady Beretta said something. But it did not register with me.

I was too surprised by the way the scenery rushed by and the wind hit me.

We soon left the forest and pa.s.sed by the boîte aux lettres I use to send out letters.

The mechanical beating of the heart created inside me by the Coppelia Effect was racing.

Then we were in the city.

It was the first time I focused on and saw the bright daytime city.

There were young men. There were young women.

There were young boys. There were young girls.

There were old men. There were old women.

There were cars. There were carriages.

There were unlit streetlights. There were trees growing in rows alongside the roads.

There were houses far smaller than the mansion. There were appartements as tall as the mansion.

There were colorful signs. There were old metal signs.

The things I wanted to see pa.s.sed me by with the wind. We were moving so fast. That speed was probably the speed with which Lady Beretta experiences the city.

I called her name. But she did not turn around. She seemed to be thinking about something. She seemed to be rushing through the city like she was trying to run away from something.

Every time we turned a corner the bicyclette bounced along the stone pavement. It worried me how the end of my hair occasionally brushed against the road.

I eventually realized my pulse had settled down and sensed that I was clinging to Lady Beretta.

I looked around again and realized I really was in the city. I was contained inside the city.

It had seemed so special when viewing it from afar. But it had accepted me inside so easily. Perhaps that was because Lady Beretta had entered the city so quickly. I think I would have hesitated or been overwhelmed if I had been walking like normal.

Lady Beretta stopped the bicyclette after about five minutes. I got off and then tripped.

My mechanical legs were trembling. Lady Beretta helped me up.

Lady Beretta said I must have been nervous and that it might be better if my legs were modeled after human ones just like my arms.

I do not know if that would be better. But Lady Beretta must know what she is talking about since she is from a family of Belle de Marionnette engineers.

We had arrived at an appartement. We entered through the side entrance and climbed the stairs.

It was a narrow stairway. We climbed four times as many steps as the mansion's stairs and arrived at a hallway that reminded me of a dark and narrow shed.

The second door was Lady Beretta's room. Three of her friends were in the neighboring room. They were all women her age who she knew from school.

That was my first time facing so many people at once. They all introduced themselves and I gave a greeting back. The one named Mallette was the owner of that neighboring room and seemed to be their leader.

They all asked me many things.

Where do you live? How old are you? Where were you born?

I politely answered as best I could. Then they asked me one final question.

Are you really a Belle de Marionnette?

Lady Beretta answered before I could.

She asked Lady Mallette if she was really Jewish.

Lady Mallette seemed to understand something from that. She smiled bitterly and took my hand. I remember my heart beating extra hard from that sudden action. I could feel the warmth of her hand as she spoke to me.

She said they wanted me to be part of their group. But she said they could only do that if I swore to use an ability of mine for them.

Lady Beretta smiled and commented how hard it is for a group of women to live together.

I sort of understand what she meant. I use artificial arms and legs to make up for the ability I lack for my life in the mansion. I doubt I could have maintained the mansion so well if I was human.

I then began cooking as I had promised. That led to a commotion.

The room was too small to teach everyone to cook. So Lady Mallette had us use her room and the two neighboring rooms for the kitchen. That way we could cook three different dishes in parallel.

One was the plat de résistance that I primarily made.

One was the hors d'oeuvre that I only gave instructions for and did not spend any time on.

And one was the dessert that could be made in advance and allowed to sit.

We spent about an hour discussing before coming to a decision.

We agreed on escargot cooked in vin rouge and a whole cooked poulet for the plat de résistance. They both only needed to be cooked in the oven. They took some time to prepare but left you free to do other things while they cooked. The rooms were not installed with ovens and we had to use the one Lady Mallette had brought in for herself. We considered but rejected cervelle de veau because one of them found it unappetizing.

We wanted something we could all grab and eat for the hors d'oeuvre and we all agreed on oignon frit with saupiquet sauce. We also put out some pâté d'alouette for anyone who wanted it.

We already had the oignon frit and so we chose an onion gratin for the soup.

We chose cooking pain d'épices with lots of honey in it for dessert. Sprinkling sugar on it and buying some cream would allow us to eat it kouglof-style.

We decided on all that and began working at 1 PM. We finished not long ago at 6 PM. It is now in the oven waiting for tonight.

I started thinking about a difficult subject.

That subject is blood.

When preparing a poulet for cooking I remove all the red liquid remaining inside. But I only recently realized this is called blood. After the dinner on March 11 I was rereading a cookbook in the mansion and came across a reference to blood removal. I only realized its meaning once I compared that description to my usual cooking method.

The blood that comes out of a poulet's body is almost identical to what I saw flowing from Lady Beretta's thigh when we first met.

If too much of that flows out then you die. You break.

My heart has become the same as a human's after evolving through the Coppelia Effect. Would I bleed if my body was cut open with a knife? I felt like trying it to find out. But I decided against it.

Lady Beretta had looked in pain when she was bleeding.

I decided it probably was not a good thing and I continued cooking.

But there is a large difference between cooking on my own and having other people cook. The two biggest incidents were when one of them bought small snails thinking they were escargot and when some oil caught fire in Lady Beretta's room.

When I look up now I can see a scorch mark on the ceiling. Signe-ing too much would only cause the damage to expand so I will stop. I will just say it did not burn through the ceiling.

< p="">

It is growing dark outside the window.>

I should probably get the plates ready soon.

Friend, I have not had much to tell you recently and felt like I had lost any opportunity to speak with you.

For now, I will tell you what I had for lunch and dinner today:

When did I become a prisoner in the Bastille!?

To be clear, I am the master of this mansion. Three cheers for independence, and all that. Although I was out having a meeting with Old "Blue-Eyes" and the others. I still can't believe it. One of our contacts is dead and we're working to discover where the deliveries we left with her have gone. Were they already on their way out of the country or not? The Resistance does not have many other connections, so it isn't easy to research this kind of thing.

Rose Francisca isn't saying anything and I still don't know the ident.i.ty of that girl, so I'm feeling a little blue.

I did recently send another letter to Rose Francisca, addressing it to the Prophetess. There is so much I want to ask her.

But I get the feeling Rosetta isn't going to return. In my experience, women never return at times like this. Oh, h.e.l.l. How am I supposed to scold her if she returns in the morning tomorrow? Come to think of it, this might be the first time I've ever scolded her.

Until we speak again.

After we finished eating, an incident occurred. And now I'm writing this entry while everyone reviews for cla.s.ses next week while being oddly considerate of my feelings.

I can't believe this. Three of our cla.s.smate boys stopped by earlier. And Phillip was one of them. Probably to put us at ease, he was wearing casual clothes instead of his German uniform, but as soon as he got here and saw Rosetta, he said something rude. I gave him a good kick on reflex and he quieted down a fair bit after that.

But the incident was what happened later.

To put it simply, one of our friends ran in while we were eating and said someone was injured during the Practical Heavy Barrel lesson. I silently Pointed to listen to what she said.

< p="">

During today's lesson, the German instructor's Heavy Barrel had completely smashed both arms and legs of the Heavy Barrel an essentially amateur boy had Write Bringed into. The instructor's Heavy Barrel had looked to the spectator seats and clearly looked disappointment when he realized no one was there to witness it.

She had gotten in the ambulance carrying the injured boy and visited the hospital with the professor.

He had received emergency Tune healing, but a complete recovery had seemed unlikely.>

When Phillip heard, he spoke up, probably because he was sitting next to me.

"And you want Beretta to take revenge? Don't be ridiculous."

That p.i.s.sed me off, so I snapped back at him. I asked him what he meant by "ridiculous" and told him this was my issue and he could b.u.t.t out. After some arguing, Phillip left, the friend who had just arrived took his seat in his place, and a horribly quiet dinner followed. Mallette tried to cheer everyone up, but I just didn't have it in me. Sorry.

But I did manage to hold back from saying something I knew I shouldn't:

"Then why don't you quit the Resistance?"

It's because he's in the Resistance that Phillip Missel is killed on August 1 when the Expert de Épée, the Heavy Barrel he was Write Bringing into, is sliced in two. If he's going to criticize what I'm doing, it makes me want to return the favor. Not that I can actually say it.

But during the fuss, Rosetta alone watched with great interest as Phillip and I fought.

When I realized it must look comical and that this was probably the first time she had seen anything like it, I started feeling silly and managed to calm down.

We finished eating and Rosetta is now washing dishes in the next room. I thought I would help, but then I realized I would probably just break them. I was worried about Rosetta getting home too late, so Mallette sent a telegram to the old man's mansion. According to Mallette the bourgeois...

"By the Balleroy family, do you mean that famous Paris family!? The Royal Chevalier for the entire country, compared to the Missel family which is only the Chevalier de Paris!?"

Rosetta did not know and the doc.u.ments I had on hand weren't enough to tell me.

Mallette said the Royal Chevalier of the Balleroy family had been in charge of all of France's knights until the 19th century. Then the Balleroy family had fallen and disappeared, so Chevaliers for each region had fortified their own lands. And those Chevaliers had lost any purpose after the revolution.

Phillip's Missel family was the former Chevalier de Paris family. They still had influence in Paris politics and the neighboring lands, but apparently only the Balleroy family would have the authority to give them orders.

I had to wonder why someone so important was not found in any of the records in '98.

Then again, that old man didn't seem so important and Rosetta didn't seem to understand any of it.

"Is that who my master is? If so, he must be starving today, but what should I do?"

Mallette tilted her head at that. Rosetta's carefree att.i.tude had helped clear my mood a little. She may have had a way of reflecting people's emotions. Thanks to that, I was feeling more carefree and managed to make a decision about one of the things I had been worrying about during the day.

I will partic.i.p.ate in the school festival's Heavy Barrel battle.

Not because of my stance on Knight Strikers, but because I have to. It's my responsibility.

The German instructor had definitely used that boy as a message to me. Who knows what will happen if I don't announce my partic.i.p.ation. There are a lot of German instructors and observers in the school.

I already had a connection with the Germans thanks to the letter I had sent out of the country and the Attesor Project, but this is different. This isn't them pursuing me. I have to fight.

So I will fight.

Protecting people is Knight Striker's job, but a few people have already been hurt because of me. It isn't fair to Phillip who was worried enough to argue over it, but this is something I can't run away from.

But once this is over, I really will stop with all the dangerous stuff. I'll use this battle to determine whether or not I can remain a Knight Striker.

I know what I have to do:

1. Search out the house of my great-grandmother, Rose Francisca, and partic.i.p.ate in the Heavy Barrel battle.

2. Once the battle is over, use the information I have gathered to come up with a general summary of the Attesor Project.

3. Once I know the basics of the Attesor Project, go see Rose Francisca, give her Jack McWild's letter, and search through the Bourgogne region to see if the Attesor Project was really done there.

That should about cover it.

Heinz Berge won't be able to ditch his military duties to visit the Bourgogne region.

As long as I'm not arrested, that should work.

Mallette looks up from the notes she was reviewing.>

So even Rosetta breaks plates, huh? I should probably go check on her.

And I'll ask her if she wants to be human or not. I don't know if I can be a Knight Striker, but I will still Write Bring into a Heavy Barrel. So what about Rosetta?

I'm sure this will be the last entry for today.

I will write the rest now.

A lot happened during the meal. But I cannot write what I do not understand.

A few gentlemen arrived. Two at first and then another. The third one wore blue. He was tall and wore an earring of a sword emblem. He said his name is Phillip. He seemed close to Lady Beretta. As soon as Sir Phillip arrived he looked to me while I worked.

That surprised me a little. He must use his Ajouter quite well to notice someone he has never met as soon as he enters the room. He seems to have been doing it while he walked.

He seemed to look down on me and asked what a Belle de Marionnette was doing here.

Lady Beretta immediately hit him with a powerful kick.

Lady Beretta walked past me and grabbed Sir Phillip by the collar. She asked him if there was anything wrong with me being here.

They argued for a bit. But Sir Phillip picked up the door and apologized to me.

I remembered what Lady Beretta had said to me in the mansion storeroom before. She had said I am not human but it would be rude to not treat me like one. I remembered that right of mine that I was not aware of. The emotion I felt during the dinner on March 11 must have been proof of that right. I also think it is the driving force that led me to want to leave and come here.

I said I am aware of what I am and told Sir Phillip not to worry about it.

I smiled a little as I said it. I do not know why. There must have been a reason. I did not smile because I tried to. It was like water pouring out of a tilted pitcher. The small smile simply came out on its own. I do not understand. But I thought that was for the best.

The dinner soon began and Sir Phillip and Lady Beretta sat next to each other. Lady Beretta was smiling and seemed to be in a good mood. But things changed when a girl entered partway through the meal. I did not really understand. But it seems an organization that Sir Phillip belongs to hurt one of Lady Beretta's friends. And for some reason discussion turned to whether or not Lady Beretta would take responsibility for this.

Sir Phillip and Lady Beretta got into another argument. I could only interpret it as Sir Phillip protecting Lady Beretta by saying she did not need to take responsibility and Lady Beretta asking Sir Phillip not to worry about her. They were both thinking about each other. So why did Sir Phillip get up and leave? I do not understand.

Lady Beretta in particular kept looking like she wanted to say something but falling silent. That is not like her.

Everyone began preparing to leave once the dinner was complete and we had cleaned up some.

I was wondering what to do and Lady Mallette said she had sent a telegram to the master asking for permission for me to spend the night. I had not expected to spend the night outside the mansion for the first time.

I began a more serious cleanup after that. My hand slipped for some reason and I broke two plates. I have never made a mistake like that before. Lady Beretta returned from the neighboring room while I was cleaning it up.

I reported only to Lady Beretta that I had broken the plates. She sees me as a human and I was afraid this would make her think of me as an awkward Belle de Marionnette. But she had the opposite reaction. She shrugged and looked at me before sighing and laughing a little.

She said I had a way of calming people's moods and she said there was an extremely simple reason for my mistake. She asked if I was happy that I would be spending the night and told me to think carefully about it.

So I thought about whether or not I was happy.

I realized I could not describe to Lady Beretta what the emotion of happiness is.

I do not know what to tell her. Is this happiness or not? If I say yes I will have to define happiness as the emotion inside me now.

Can I define it that way or not? This emotion might be stronger or weaker than what Lady Beretta calls happiness.

I thought about it.

If what I am feeling is stronger than what Lady Beretta is thinking of then I would be unable to use happiness to describe what she calls happiness.

If what I am feeling is weaker than what Lady Beretta is thinking of then Lady Beretta will think I am acting happy over trivial things.

I thought about whether or not the feeling inside me was at just the right level.

I looked away from Lady Beretta as she looked at me.

I do not know why. But I felt like I would be able to quickly gather my thoughts if I did so.

I faced the other way. There was a window there. I could see the city night. It was very dark. But I also saw many lights there. Those lights took the form of boxy windows and round lamps. They were lined up and scattered horizontally and vertically both in the distance and close by. It created a different city from the one I had seen during the day.

That reminded me that I was outside. I was not inside the mansion. It reminded me I was in an unfamiliar place. I lost responsibility and control of my mouth and it moved on its own.

I replied that I was happy.

I do not remember what I said after that. I think I said lots of things to Lady Beretta. I probably made her listen until I was satisfied. I came back to my sense to find she was smiling.

She said that was good. She said I could break as many plates as I wanted if it that was what made me break them.

She said that the Belle de Marionnette race does not make any mistakes at first.

We do not grow and learn to not make mistakes. We grow and find more things to worry or think about. And that causes us to make more mistakes. Only after that do we grow and learn to not make those mistakes. Afterwards Lady Beretta looked me in the eye and asked a question.

She asked if I was afraid to make mistakes.

I said that I did not like making mistakes but that I was not afraid to.

She nodded and smiled at my answer. She finally smiled again.

She kept saying that was good and then Lady Mallette walked in.

"You're in a better mood now. The water is about ready."

This appartement apparently uses a shower instead of a bathtub. They said they will generally activate the hot water heater and then each take a shower in turn. The bath area is apparently very small and that makes it hard to get one person out and another in.

Lady Beretta then looked to my feet and asked if my artificial legs are waterproofed.

I told her my legs are waterproofed to everyday standards and that my arms are too as they are human-style. She immediately told Lady Mallette to prepare a change of clothes for me.

It seems I too need to wash my body. This will actually be the first time for me to use a real shower. I only use the shower at the mansion for cold water. And I only ever heat the water for washing my hair. I wash my body by soaking a cloth in hot water and wiping it down.

The master seems to soak in the tub. But I have never done it. Because I once tried to copy him and my right leg hit the heater and knocked it off.

I wonder what it feels like to wash your body in a warm water shower.

The resident of the other room neighboring Lady Mallete's has just entered the shower. That means I am next.

A lot has happened today. And this kind of day makes me happy.

It seems being able to write about a lot is related to the emotion of happiness. I think the days that have given me a lot to write about have had a lot of happy things happen in them.

This emotion is not part of my job. It seems there is a lot I can do outside of my work.

P.S.

Before taking a shower I plan to ask Lady Beretta how to use quotation marks. I hope to have a few things to quote once I am confident how they work.

I was off duty today. Nothing of much note happened.

At 10:00, the headquarters requested I come in. Once I arrived, a commander from the General Headquarters Geheimnis Agency asked a few questions about the Attesor Project I am currently investigating on an individual level.

According to that young officer, they plan to place me as the head of an Attesor Project Investigation Team. But he also handed me the doc.u.ments that had been sealed inside the general headquarters archive.

At 16:21, I read through those doc.u.ments. I am currently thinking about them.

Earlier, a bookmark fell out of the papers I was searching through. I have concluded it belonged to whoever was viewing these before me. The bookmark had a pressed flower pasted to it.

It is a four o'clock flower. Why is the name of that flower in my memories? Along with that faded appearance?

It was the same as the flowers growing behind the woman and girl in that photo I found in my things the other day.

The four o'clock flower is known as the belle-de-nuit in French. Similarly, they refer to a Sein Frau as a Belle de Marionnette and a Grösse Panzer as a Lourd de Marionnette.

Even after multiple surgeries so I might devote my life to Grösse Panzers, some fragments of my memories seem to linger and occasionally float to the surface. I feel no surprise or doubt about this. I will simply Lernen these thoughts in the back of my mind and go to sleep.

I placed the bookmark in my jacket's pocket. If that memory remains, I plan to return it to the intelligence division.

I imagine it will be midday by the time you read this, you sleepyhead. It seems our roles are reversed today. We kept the party going a bit after showering last night, but, Beretta, it's been a while since you drank, so you need to restrain yourself more. You pa.s.sed out and Miss Rosetta had to put you to bed.

And I just peeked in at you two and you're sleeping in the same bed like sisters. I see your habit of holding onto things in your sleep hasn't gone away. You had your arms around her tight, so I'll have to ask who woke up first and how you explained that one.

I took a photo, so let's get that developed later and show it off.

Oh, right. Speaking of photos, I also took one of Miss Rosetta when she was showering last night. Y'know, since that's a ritual for anyone who joins our merry band, officially or unofficially. Anyway, it turns out her skin is really pretty. I'm honestly jealous. You know how much I love beautiful things, so I couldn't help but sneak up behind her and touch it. Yes, two nice handfuls. That's gotta be why she was acting so cautious around me when we were drinking afterwards. Explain this to her later on for me, okay? Tell her I love pretty things, but I'm not interested in women.

But why does a Belle de Marionnette have bigger b.o.o.bs than me? Could a Belle de Marionnette professor like you explain that one to me? I'm jealous of that too. She's even more "ideal" than us, but she hasn't noticed. A beautiful woman with no pride in her appearance should be illegal.

I kind of understand what you were talking about before. In America, Belle de Marionnettes are treated worse than slaves as a kind of distraction from racial discrimination. And since your family makes them, you want to treat them like humans. I think I understand how you feel now. At least a little bit.

That smile when she replied to Phillip's apology last night and that surprise when I groped her from behind in the shower were both emotions I can't imagine from a mere machine.

Oh, I've written a lot that really isn't like me.

Make sure you don't let her see this letter, okay? I don't want her thinking I'm always going around praising people. But do tell her I'm glad we could accept someone like her as a part of our group.

Well, I need to get to cla.s.s. I'll be borrowing your bicyclette, by the way. You take your time seeing her home by foot.

This year's End-of-Term School Festival will be held on May 11, 12, and 13.

All clubs and seminars that wish to hold an exhibit or run a stand must submit a request to the Festival Committee by April 15. The programs will be announced on April 24, but any program partic.i.p.ants will be informed beforehand. Please respond by April 15.

-Sorbonne University General Festival Committee

Lecture 3-IS, Industrial Markets, is canceled for the day because Professor Raven Ferris has been hospitalized with back pain. The following homework has been a.s.signed, so enrolled students must submit the a.s.signment by the end of cla.s.s on April 9.

a.s.signment: Based on p72-218 of the text, write up your thoughts on the relationship between the Lourd de Marionnette and Belle de Marionnette markets.

-Sorbonne University Student Division

3

The most defining trait of the Lourd de Marionnette (LdM) industrial market is that it requires only the smallest possible market while simultaneously requiring the greatest possible technology. They are humanoid machines. And in addition to LdMs, there are Forma de Marionnettes (FdM) and Léger de Marionnettes (LédM). And each cla.s.sification has a market for the military, security agencies, and similar organizations. But most of the costs for LdM come from maintenance fees, the necessary secrecy, and the secret deals that have long been the tradition.

We must consider the technology markets for all humanoid machines such as LdM. Humanoid machines generally require 7 technologies:

1: A Formule conversion device that makes the Recréa possible.

2: The sensory devices that supply the LdM's abilities.

3: The internal combustion engine that powers the LdM.

4: The joint systems that control that power.

5: The armor and armored clothing that creates the LdM's outer sh.e.l.l.

6: The resistance emblem technology that prevents moonlight from sending them out of control.

7: The Excède Emblème that acts as the symbol of the LdM.

These technologies are first tested out on LdM and not FdM or LédM. That is because LdM are the most recognizable symbol of ground battles and the latest and greatest technology must be used to prevent those symbols from being defeated.

This is supported by the efforts of the LdM craftsmen and the cooperation of the military.

So even in this age of ma.s.s production, there are never 10 of the exact same model and the constructing it all from parts handmade by craftsmen keeps costs high. Of course, this makes their precision and movement vastly superior to the ma.s.s-produced FdMs and LédMs, so even the relatively-small older-style LdMs can overwhelm a cutting-edge and heavily-equipped FdM.

You could even say that the ma.s.s-production of FdMs and LédMs is meant to make up for that gap in ability.

An inferior reproduction of LdM technology is inherited by them, but that allows for the discovery of new problems, leading to further evolution.

The existence of LdMs has been confirmed before even the prehistorical Obstacle Era. The FdMs and LédMs we are familiar with now also existed since that time and they have evolved in many ways leading to the present.

The recent examples of progress would be the Formule conversation device installed in the back being reduced in size, the backpack doubling as a copilot seat, and that copilot seat being developed into a gun platform.

And as the current age will bring a demand for even greater ability, the various joints and motors will likely evolve as well. But it cannot be denied that male LdMs have become more common due to the excess weight of the bind cylinder and composite cylinder joints. I have heard America is developing curved cylinder joint technology to overcome that, but they have yet to announce anything as they only have a theory with no complete successes.

But even though LdMs continue to evolve like that, their numbers were drastically reduced by World War One.

That is obviously due to the rise of tanks and airplanes. Becoming a Lourd de Écrivain is hard, but tanks and airplanes are much easier to control and can be ma.s.s-produced. Germany had superb design and technology for tanks and airplanes during that war, so in addition to developing those same weapons, the Allies are said to have proposed various plans to increase the mobility and attack power of FdMs.

Those plans include the Amblin Project and the Premier Project which determined the style of later FdMs, but there are also some that have only left behind a name and may not have even existed, such as the Attesor Project.

Today at 10:30, I began Panzer training at the training grounds.

With a break in the middle, we finished at 16:00. For discipline purposes, I then spoke with the soldier who had badly injured a student at Sorbonne University yesterday. When asked why, he mentioned a female Panzer Kavalier at the university, but I warned him that such trivial matters are nothing that a Panzer Kavalier should harm a civilian over.

At 20:27, I visited the training ground hangar to inspect my Grösse Panzer, Rot Löwe.

A single Grösse Panzer was active in the simple maintenance area behind the hangar. I had never seen the Panzer before, but the sword emblem on the shoulders told me it was Expert de Épée of the Missel family. The workers watching on told me that Phillip Missel had been here since last night. He had brought out his Panzer, released the power limiter, and began repairing it.

"But he had told us he had decided to never again Recréa into a Lourd de Marionnette again after what happened ten years ago. He apparently smashed up his grandfather's leg during training and the man could never walk properly again."

That was what a Paris-born worker told me.

If he had indeed not Schreiben-ed into that Grösse Panzer in ten years and it had also just been repaired, then he must have significant skill as a Panzer Kavalier. A few times, the tip of his sword produced a supersonic wave. I doubt any of the troops stationed here would stand a chance against him. I also decided he would continue practicing within the Expert de Épée for quite some time. So at 21:32, I returned to the barracks. At almost the same time, a contact officer from HQ visited. I was handed a sealed envelope from Sorbonne University. It contained a request to choose two Panzer Kavaliers to partic.i.p.ate in the school festival's Grösse Panzer battle.

I gave an immediate reply. Sending myself and Phillip Missel would solve everything. At the very least, we would not bring shame on the name of the Panzer Kavalier by injuring a civilian and we would also win an easy victory.

I will now continue reading through the Attesor Project doc.u.ments and then go to sleep.