“As I was saying,” I continued, “I have a skill that translates everything for me into French, I had no issue with the word. It’s what you said about anti-mages.”

When he'd mentioned that, I suddenly remembered that anti-mages were one of the rarest classes in ‘immoral immortality’. The third volume of the series went on about how Huang and his team set out to find the last one.

Theodgar gave me a curious look as if I’d brought up something I shouldn’t have.

“I believe we were talking about you brother before.” He spoke, as he picked up his whiskey again. “Your array of skills does sound powerful and versatile enough, but I would not bring up such subjects again if I am not certain I can take on the consequences.” He added, no doubt talking about my previous statement, with that curious look still painted on his face.

I sigh and dropped the issue for the time being. His weird threats were the last thing I needed. But then, an idea crossed my mind. I did recall that a common tactic to establish trust and help someone get information was to offer something up first.

“Yes, perhaps you are right. Although I think I would have been fine, no matter my class, had I been born a woman in Yumen, in the Gansu province of China.”

Theodgar raised an eyebrow again, this time more concerned than confused.

“But to go back to my brother, I am not aware of his whereabouts, or if he even is alive…” I trailed off, changing the topic.

Theodgar nodded in acknowledgement. It didn’t seem like my words discouraged him ever so slightly from pursuing his search. Which brought me to another question I had.

“How come you were so determined to find me, and are so determined to find my – umm, very likely deceased, brother?”

“You are Nathalie’s child, and she was very important to me.” He replied. “As strange as this might sound, coming from an old man you properly met for the first time a few hours ago, I would like to offer you my support. But you are right. I have an ulterior motive as well. Nathalie was in possession-”

He was interrupted by the waiter arriving with our food.

Theodgar unfolded the napkin that was under his plate, placing it over his knees, before elegantly, almost artistically, cutting into his fish. I took a second to admire this dish that looked so - normal; so much like food in my old world, not like something you’d eat while discussing magic and long-dead siblings that might not be so. Then, I began eating as well.

“Your mother was in possession of two relics.” Theodgar continued. “If Namura has befallen to you, it is not unreasonable to assume that your brother, if he is alive, has the other.”

“And what kind of relic would that be?” I asked, in between two bites. There was a slim chance I’d know its whereabouts from the novel.

In this world, there were two types of magic items. Relics and artefacts. The former were created by a force independent of men, sometimes even by the system itself. Artefacts, on the other hand, encompassed all man-made magic items, although the name was typically reserved for the more powerful ones. Under that definition, even the dress I was currently wearing could be considered an artefact. In practice, no one would have called it that of course. Although the term ‘relic’ was used less loosely, it was also often synonymous with a lack of understanding of the magic behind an item, and not its provenance. I assumed Theodgar’s classification of my sword as a relic fell into that latter category.

“A neckless that allows to see the future. I would be unable to describe it further, as Nathalie was always secretive about its usage. But the tolls it took on her were very visible. Unlike Namura, whom I do by the way send my regards to, he was not well-intentioned. He leached off the Luck and MP of its user, and when those ran out, he’d take hold of their dreams. On rare occasions he’d go as far as twisting their reality…”

As he spoke, Theodgar looked to the side once more, as if losing himself in old memories again.

“What was its name?” I asked, unsatisfied with this vague description.

“I don’t know.” The German man replied in a matter-of-fact fashion.

He then paused, as if thinking about whether he should expand on the reason for this lack of knowledge. I didn’t pressure him further, knowing fair and well that our time together tonight was not unlimited, and that there were likely more urgent matters to discuss. He locked his gaze with mine, and we came to that understanding.

“If you do recall, or find out, do tell me. I might know its location.” I said, concluding that conversation.

We quietly finished our meal. Theodgar seemed eager to say something else, but he also made it quite clear in his overall demeanour that he wasn’t too keen on talking while there were plates littering the table. Once those were taken away, and he’d ordered another whiskey, and some water for me, he returned his attention to whatever matters he was planning to discuss.

During that time, I did consider bringing up my own concerns, namely Huang’s quest for immortality, and the consequence it’d have on the world in a few years. But, I did decide to let Mr Muller say what he had to say first, out of respect. Somewhere at the back of my mind, a part of me wondered why I was so trusting and open with him.

“I will ask you to humour me for a second, as what I’m about to tell you requires some background understanding.” Theodgar spoke. “How much do you know about the War?”

That was indeed an unexpected question, but I did as I was told and went with it.

“Not much. I didn’t really pay attention in school.” I offered him a half-lie. “I know that it started due to low rankers feeling oppressed by the social system. And I know it led to the spread of Wild Lands. I know it ended some 70 years ago, with a truce signed by every single nation in the world.”

Theodgar nodded, and I thought I saw some pride in his expression.

“Good, good. They didn’t fully brainwash you. Or perhaps Vincent did a half-decent job at giving you access to what they now call ‘illegal literature’.” He said with a smirk.

“I’m sorry? I don’t follow.”

“The War started as a conflict of interest between low and high rankers, and slowly progressed to what it is portrayed as today, civilisation versus barbaric monsters who refute any form of modern progress. The part about the ranks had been very carefully erased from history, to push forward this false narrative that we are all equal in soul and rights.”

“Aren’t we though?” I interrupted him.

As someone who’d lived most of my life without skills, or magic, I could not disagree more.

Mr Muller scoffed.

“You teleport away, with your luck fully restored as well I’m assuming, if you get killed. Your mother could reduce dozens of battalions of well-trained soldiers to helpless idiots in exotic costumes. Your father can turn buildings into rubble at full strength. And you’re telling me that we are the same as them?”

I rolled my eyes.

“And yet we all live, and dream and hope all the same. We get up in the morning, we go to work. We watch the news before bed, while we eat questionable monster meat. Surely you must see that.”

“But Laura,” Theodgar leaned forward, taking my hand into his, “We don’t die. With fight their wars, and we make their history. We build our lives on the shards of their broken ones. We spin their world, and we watch, waiting to see what we can get from it.”

I watched him with confusion that hadn’t quite turned to distress yet. It seemed he shared the same megalomanic worldview as Huang. I briefly considered how amusing (but not in the funny way) it’d be to introduce the two of them to one another.

“But all of this is beside my point.” Theodgar continued as he let go of my hand. “Perhaps there is some sense in what you are saying, and I am far from believing that low rankers are inferior to me. After all, I have been following the orders of one for several decades.” He gave me a look as he said that, as if checking if I was reassured enough by his words, before continuing. “Does this symbol look familiar?”

He pulled out a card-holder from his jacket and took a business card out of it. He handed the thick piece of white cardboard to me. When I saw the interlinking triangles, one at least twice as large as the other, laying atop the slightly off-centred smaller one, I was at a loss for words.

“What … who …” I mumbled.

I knew now for sure. This was the same symbol I had seen embroidered on the clothes of those people from Cain's town in Canada. But it made no sense. How could they and Theodgar be linked?

I flipped the card over. The words ‘David Solomon’ followed by ‘Executive Recruiter’ and an Italian phone number stared at me.

“What the fuck.” My mouth silently formed those words.

When I raised my eyes back at Theodgar, he had a very pleased expression painted on his face. Like a cat who’s just knocked over and broken your favourite vase.

“It seems you are already in the know. Which is good, because I wasn’t sure how best to describe the Church of Corinth to you.”