Chapter 21

Let Sleeping Dogs Wake

Blow after blow, the drifters are hurled back against the pressurized air waves that I keep pitching at them. So far, I have no trouble keeping them back, but if Sallis and the A-ranks were to appear, I might be in real trouble. Deciding that I can’t just stay here and wait, I create a wall of fire to impede the drifters’ advance.

“Fire! Get away!”

I hear one of them shouting. Soon enough, the corridor is blocked with flickering waves of heat. If this building was made of wood, the fire would’ve engulfed everything pretty quickly. Thankfully, it wasn’t.

Now then, what to do with this?

“You... you gormless tart! What are you planning to do?! Do you even realize who you’ve made an enemy of!”

Whimpering, Ichard shouted at me as he piteously creeps away from me.

Not really...

I grab his collar with my hand, a firebulb in the other, as I pierce him with my glare.

I’m not from around here, you see.

Using air magic, I fling him back to his office. He crashes back first on his desk, the sound loud enough to be heard from across the flame because now I hear the drifters’ affrighted shouts, fearing for their commissioner’s life.

...Oh? After all this, he’s still able to stand? I figured him as a desk-hugger that has never fought against beasts. I guess he actually trains his body.

As I approach him, he keeps his eyes sharp at me while scanning the room for any means to escape. He’s smart enough to know he can’t fight back, so surely he realizes, the only way to escape is the window I came in from. Without turning his back on me, he steps back against the window, briefly glancing out at the broken frame. I know from his muddled expression that he’s deciding on whether jump.

I stop in the middle of the room, crossing my arms over my chest to see what he’ll do next.

“...You want me to jump, don’t you?”

To his question, I impishly raise the sides of my mouth.

“Hah. Fine, let’s do it your way,”

he said, jumping out the window right after.

He’s more gutsy than I thought. Or is that ego speaking? To be fair, it’s the obvious choice from his point of view. It was either risk a broken leg, or get burned alive. Well, then, I should get going.

Straightaway, I run and jump out the window after him, using the same trick to cushion my fall. After landing smoothly, I realized that Ichard had made a run for it, out the park and into the crowded streets.

...I see what he’s doing.

For someone who claims to be fighting for the people, he doesn’t seem too concerned about using them as meat shields. Heh, he’s betting on my conscience to leave the townspeople alone. Lucky for him, I can’t cause any casualty lest the commander might actually kill me.

Nevertheless, I run after him into the busy streets, his figure disappearing amidst the crowd, hiding. Actually, now that I think about it, he might’ve made my job a lot easier like this.

Determined to finish this quickly, I form more firebulbs to hover around me and quickly charge one up, excessively overheating it before launching it up to the sky.

--- --- ---

It didn’t take long for the chaos to be widespread. The firebulb itself detonated well above the buildings, far enough that there’s no threat from the blast or the rarefaction that comes after. Excluding me, people nearby were brought down under the pressure wave. The ground shook, and the glass of windows creaked in shock, with several on the upper floors actually breaking into pieces.

It only took seconds for the panic to ensue. People started running everywhere screaming, though it also only took a few before they noticed the firebulbs glowing brightly, hovering around me. Realizing that I’m the perpetrator, the chaotic mass of people parts to give me way to my target. Like a sheep without his flock, Ichard stands there in the middle of the street with no one to protect him.

Found you~

I saunter towards him. No longer able to hide among the crowd, it is all he can do to run now... or, that’s what I thought. Surprisingly, he’s not running away. Instead, he’s just standing there with his arms raised straight above him.

“I surrender!”

he shouted at me, almost joyfully.

“I surrender! I’ll come to you, just don’t harm anyone! Your issue is with me, not with the citizens of Tarnlake! You’ll have to kill me before you harm any one of them!”

Hah... really. Who was the one who thought to hide behind them? Even in situations like this, he just had to get more love from the people, doesn’t he?

“Lay down your, uh, fire! I’ll come to you, okay? Nice and slowly, lay down your fire...”

he said in a pitiful attempt of persuasion. He thinks I don’t see the crossbows aiming at me from the balcony, it seems. Well, then, why don’t I play along?

“I’m willing to talk. What are your demands, in exchange to leave the people of Tarnlake alone?”

...Bah. You know I can’t speak, right? Are you even trying at this point?

Following his lead, I slowly lower my raised arm and let the firebulbs burn away. With the slightest, concealed movement, I prepare myself to jump him. I watch him—his cold-sweats dripping down his face, his trembling fingers, his nervous stare... everything. The signal may come anytime, and if I miss it, then it’s half a dozen steel bolts for me.

“I know why you’re after me. I promise I’ll give you what you want, so...—“

See. It.

Time slows down for me as I watch his raised arm falling. I know what’s to come after, so I hunched myself before springing up my legs, launching myself towards him with the help of air magic. I can hear the bolts whizzing pass, grazing my hood just a hair’s breadth away from the skin of my cheek. I stop just in front of him and before anyone else could react, I do my work with the air around me, whirling them around the two of us before igniting a chain reaction, ultimately erecting a wall of flame around us.

I hear some more screams from beyond the flame, and after that, drifters shouting to each other. Even through the roaring fire, I can hear the numerous footsteps surrounding my blazing barricade. Some of the bolder ones dared to shoot a few rounds of lead into the fire, but stops only after a short while, for fear of hitting their own commissioner. The thick steam rising from the fire is stopping the crossbowmen above from shooting as well.

Now, then. We’ve got all the space we need, lord commissioner.

“W‒What?! You... just what‒”

he stopped short of breath just then, breaking into a coughing fit.

Oh, I guess you should know, the flame’s taking away all the air you need. You’ll be dead in a minute.

As if he heard me, his eyes quivers in fear. He falls down to his knees, incapable of even speaking as he desperately breathes for air.

“P‒Please... just...”

Have any of your girls asked you that?

I stare down at him coldly, just watching him claw the ground as he makes his desperate pleas.

“I just... wanted to do what’s best...”

He’s not even saying that to me anymore, staring off at a space to my right, at something I can’t see. He’s getting delirious from the lack of air, it seems. It won’t be long before he loses consciousness.

“I’m sorry...”

he said with a weak voice and teary eyes.

“I’m... sorry, Frea...”

Huh?

Just like that, he drops to the ground, unconscious.

That last word... was it someone’s name?

His face when he said that was something I never expected to see from him. Sorrow? Regret? Could he actually be feeling guilty about everything... Ah, stop, it’s too late for second thoughts now. Focus, Fay.

At any rate, my part is mostly done. All that’s left is to wait for that man to come and finish things up. So I wait in the heat, mixing up the air to keep both Ichard and myself alive.

While I wait, I start hearing familiar voices mixing with the drifters’ shoutings, calling my name desperately. One of them is Kaelyn’s I believe. Her voice is husky, unmistakably crying as she screams my name. The other one belongs to Luise. He sounds desperate too...

.....

...I wonder, what are they going to think of me after this? Will they hate me for doing this, or fear me like the townspeople? Not like it matters. I was already prepared at the time I’ve decided on my resolve, but it still leaves a bitter feeling to know that I might never meet them again. Just a bit, though...

...Argh, fuck it...

“Fay!”

I heard a new voice shouting from beyond the flickering flame. Finally, the commander’s here. It was getting a little hard to breath, and the fire had nothing to do with it...

“Commander, stop!”

“Oi, Orlev! Don’t! The flame’s too hot!”

Following the voices, I see a shadow coming up from the other side. The flame dances around the figure as he passes through, moving faster than my eyes can follow. Something knocks my foot, and suddenly I’m falling rapidly towards the ground, face first.

Augh!

I can feel the commander’s weight on top of me as he clicks is pistol behind my head.

“Your flames. Snuff them out.”

Ow... I got it, I got it!

I create a vacuum to extinguish the flames, leaving only traces of vapor trailing upwards. The drifters that couldn’t come close before immediately surrounds me. I sigh in relief when the commander finally steps off me, only to be replaced by two burly men, pushing me down to the ground and constraining any movement.

“Move, and I’ll break all the bones in your body,”

one of the drifters threatened.

Yes, yes...

“The commissioner?”

the commander asked.

“He’s breathing, sir!”

“Have Rips check him immediately.”

“Aye! But... what are we going to do about her?”

Orlev returns his stare at me, a hint of despise in his gaze.

“Take her to the cells.”

--- --- ---

I lie on the cold, hard bed, thinking of what’s to come next. With every tired breath, I take in the damp smell of the dungeon, shaking off the unpleasant memories that arise from it.

I look at the thing linking my wrists; a large, metal handcuff with intricate patterns made from castings, with some kind of glowing gem embedded in it. It seems similar to the one Sallis had with him. A mana stone, was it? Looks a bit different, though.

*sigh*

There’s still so much I don’t know. If lack of knowledge is weakness, then I’m as worthless as I can be right now.

Anyhow, when I said “dungeon” just now, I actually meant an actual dungeon, with the dark cells, poorly-lit corridors, and the claustrophobic stone walls that seem to close in on you. That kind of dungeon. It still amazes me how a paramilitary organization had the kind of fund to build this. Ichard being commissioner of the branch might have something to do with this, but... for an organization that mostly fights beasts for a living, just what the hell would this kind of place be used for?

...Nah, no use thinking about it.

As time passes, I absently gaze at the mouldy ceiling, trying to ignore the hateful gaze of the beefy guard, sitting just outside my cell. Aside from that one guy, there seems to be a few more hanging out in the room around the corner. I can hear them chatting with a low voice,

“I never thought she could do something like this. I mean... she looked so frail and innocent...” (drifter 1)

“So you’ve actually seen her face? She got that weird hood on the whole time, didn’t she? Frankly, I was already suspicious of her from the start.” (drifter 2)

“Hah, whatever, you hornswoggler.” (drifter 3)

“No, it’s true. I think there’s a conspiracy for the commissioner’s life, and she’s the one the turncoats sent to kill him.”

“That, or she just snapped or something, decided to blow stuff up. You know how weird magi can get.”

“That’s not... I don’t think she’s like that.” (drifter 1)

“What’s with you? Why are you defending her?”

“You weren’t there in the rescue mission. You didn’t see her fight alongside the wolf.”

“...Pfft.”

...Suddenly, the man guarding my cell made a contemptuous laugh.

“Fools. Those twits got fooled by your honey face, but not me,”

he said haughtily. I leer at him from the corner of my eyes. His face looks especially nasty under the dim light.

“I know what you are, I know from the start. Acting feeble and all, just to get close to the commissioner and stab him in the back. Oy, are you listening me?”

Trust me, I wish there’s some way for me not to.

“You fucking back-stabbing slag. You got the wolf seduced for this too, didn’t cha? Well, not all of us are dimwits like him. I know you’re working with that rattler guy to assassinate the commissioner. It was your last mistake to think you could ever try and get away with your life. I pray you’ll die a slow death for it. I bet you’ve never experienced pain in your life, haven’t you? Just you wait, You’ll‒ “

He stopped when he noticed me getting up from the bed. I walk up the bars and stop just by him, with only the thin poles of metal separating us while I gaze back at him quietly. I see him shuffling uncomfortably in his seat, grabbing the grip of his pistol nervously.

You seem a bit skittish.

“W‒What is it, bitch? You don’t scare me, not with your magic sealed.”

Sealed?

Ah... is that what the handcuff is for?

This thing is supposed to seal my magic, huh?

“H‒Hey, what are you even trying?!”

he shouted, terrified to see me aiming my hands at him. I naughtily smile at him in response.

I want to see how well it “seals” my magic. Do you mind?

“...What are you doing?”

an authorative and familiar voice said from the end of the corridor.

“C‒Commander!”

“Can I have some time with her, Raf?”

“Ah, yeah...”

“Raf” then stands with unsteady legs before rushing away from sight, a bit hastier than he needs to be. Meanwhile, Orlev walks up to my cell while watching me with frigid eyes.

“That firework of yours caused fourteen concussions and three ruptured lungs, all civilians. You’re lucky no one was killed.”

I held back.

“You caused a lot of fear, you’ve realized. Sallis said you’re too dangerous to be kept conscious, and Hork suggested that we should just “slice her white head off before she could mutter a magic word”, so he said. Now everyone wants you hanged, and why shouldn’t I?”

I don’t know. Why shouldn’t you?

I innocently smile at him, and the commander sighs at my attitude.

“The girls were begging for your life. Some of the drifters too, the ones that you saved in the Dread. They trusted you, and you betrayed them. How does that make you feel?”

Better than betraying my own principles.

“You were so sure I’d play in your plan. You’ve never even thought of the possibility of me betraying you, have you?”

We both stare at each other for a while, trying to find out what the other thinks before he ends it, turning around and walking away without saying another word.

--- --- ---

After that, I lay in the cell for hours, staring at imaginary shapes on the ceiling. The guard shift changed a couple of times, but none of them tried to talk to me like the first guy. In fact, some of them I caught stealing glances at me with curious eyes. I can almost hear their minds; “why did she do that? Who is she really?”

Truthfully, the answer is something I have for neither question.

Just as I’m getting sleepy, a new set of approaching footsteps draws my attention. The owner, a familiar blonde man carrying a briefcase and dressed in a labcoat, sticks out like a sore toe in this dungeon. Rips, he was called, I think. He’s the guy that stuck a huge needle into my back and is the one currently training Farica in medical arts. Speaking of the latter, she’s here too, looking even more lost than her mentor.

I haven’t seen her since... after Latasha left, I think. Last time I saw her, she was still the same little wuss, but... here she is, wearing that eerie labcoat in a scary dungeon, with an unfazed expression on her face. What kind of things did Rips teach her in these past few days?

“Rips? What’s going on?”

the guard asked him.

“I have to check her for euphosys and rule it out as a possible cause. Commander’s orders.”

“Ah, sure. I don’t get what’s the point, though. Crazy or not, she’s still a deadman walking.”

“Would you mind giving us space?”

“Huh? No, she needs to be guarded at all time‒”

“She’s locked in a cell and cuffed with a grade-six mana restraint. Are you afraid of a little girl that much?”

“But...”

“Don’t worry about it. Unless you want me to get something to treat your anxiousness with?”

The guard runs away after that, leaving just the three of us in the dungeon. The two in front of me then make strange eye contacts with each other.

“...If you’ve got something to say, say it now,”

Rips said to the girl beside him. Farica nods and faces me then.

“Fay...”

Hey, Farica.

“Did you... really do all those things?”

*nod*

...Ah, don’t make that face.

“Why?”

she asked me, her voice slightly trembling.

Well, that’s...

After rummaging through her pockets, she hands me a set of writing tools through the gaps. A writing slate, a chalk, and a small block of wood covered in cloth.

“Tell me.”

It’s complicated.

“Tell me,”

she pressured, glaring at me with her hand still held out.

I hesitatedly take the tools, but instead of writing anything, I just stand there with the tools in my hand, lookng back at her while I think of what to write. In the end, there’s nothing I can write to her that would ease her image of me. When she realizes that, her face turns sour.

“...Of course. What was I thinking? There’s no way you would’ve told me.”

I’m sorry.

“I can’t believe you, Fay. You tricked me. You tricked everyone. You manipulated us all to get to your goal.”

...Sorry.

I give the tools back to her, but she slaps it back towards me, causing them to fall onto the cell’s floor. After pulling away her scornful gaze, she marches away from the cell and up the stairs, her footsteps echoing grimly.

It’s not as if I didn’t see this coming, but it somehow still leaves a bitter feeling when a girl like her looked at me like that. An innocent, naive girl she really is, but that expression... what was it? Anger, because I betrayed her trust? No, rather than hate, she looked like she was hurt.

I wonder, did I look like that too back then, when I found out about Hadda’s lies? How did he feel back then, knowing he’s just lost the faith of the person who trusted him the most...? ‘I trusted you’, was what her face said, but what did she trust me as? All I did was do what I really wanted and be myself. In the end, the ‘Fay’ in Farica’s eyes is not me, but someone else who has my face.

“...You must forgive her. Despite what everyone else thought of you, she still begged for your life. She said that there’s a reason that made you do all of that.”

He unlocked the cell door as he said all that, giving a somewhat dangerous eye signal at me.

“Don’t try to run, okay?”

Uhm...

After settling on the cell’s floor, he opens his briefcase and pulls out from the inside, a disturbingly familiar device. I instinctively backed out into a corner and seeing me like that, his eyes flashes ominously as he says to me,

“Don’t worry about it.”

Oh, god...

Not this again.

--- --- ---

...........

“...Preliminary inspection shows no signs of euphosys, but I’ll have to see the lab test to know for sure.”

Putting his tools back into his briefcase, Rips then looks at me with a childish smile painted on his face.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to run away, faean.”

Even if I did, there’s probably hundreds of soldiers waiting for me up there.

Besides, I can probably break out anytime I want. In another case, something he said has been bugging me, so I grab the writing slate that Farica gave me and then... uh, where’s that chalk that I dropped?

“Here,”

Rips said, giving the missing chalk to me.

“Do you want to say something?”

Just a question...

I write the word and then show it to him.

‘Yufhosys.’

Rips takes the slate and chalk from me before correcting the word.

“It’s written like this. ‘Euphosys’, it’s an illness that attacks the mind. It makes you crazy and act like an animal, or so what most rabble would say. I don’t believe that’s how it works.”

An illness? Like a disease?

“I’ve researched on some... ‘materials’ a friend of mine acquired in the past. I’ve found that the ‘carrier’, which I call ‘Agent E’, interferes with the brain and somehow warps our social inhibitors. That’s why I think the symptoms varies from one person to another, because every individual interacts differently in their social environment.”

Err...

“While some may lose all restraints, others may maintain enough to continue with their usual lives. For example is... do you know of the previous lord of House Vane, whom they called the Mad Lord? I think some of his victims called him ‘Saint’‒”

“Are you planning to get another apprentice, Rips?”

the chief’s low voice cut in before the person himself appears from the shadows. That’s weird... I didn’t see him until just now. Was he deliberately hiding his presence?

“Chief Aldwan, you need anything?”

“I just came by to check on our little magus, see if you’re treating him well. Hahaha!”

“...I don’t get it‒”

Before Rips can even react, the chief hammers his fist on the poor man’s head, knocking him out instantly.

...What?

“Okay, let’s get you out now, little magus.”

Um...

“What, him? Don’t worry, Rips knows about your plan. I just thought it’s safer for him like this. That way, no one will be suspicious of him breaking you out. “

You’re here... to break me out?

"Here, let me get that restraint off you.”

Before the chief manages to unlock the magic handcuff, it falls off my wrist and drops down to the ground with a clang.

“...Huh?”

I got it.

“How did you...”

Same trick I did to break out of that cage back then. More importantly, shouldn’t we go? Erm... chief?

The chief just stares at the fallen handcuffs, mumbling to himself,

“she used magic even with the restraint... yar’veh, vok...”

Hey, chief!

I snap my fingers in front of him.

“O‒Oh, right! Err... here,”

he said, dropping a big, empty flour sack in front of me.

“I need to get you out undetected, so...”

You’ve gotta be joking...

“Oh, and you should probably bring that,”

he suggested, pointing at the writing slate.

“You might need it.”

--- --- ---

For the first time in seventeen months, I am being carried in a sack, heaved over the shoulder like a baggage. The chief carried me out of the dungeon and then through the guild building, during which I heard several people calling out to him.

“Hey, chief. You’re going back already?”

“Aye, my guys back at Gerslow can’t handle crap without me this long. Send my regards to Orlev, will you?”

“Will do. What’s that you got in there?”

“Oh, nothing... just some junk I’’m getting rid of.”

Then we got on some kind of horse-drawn vehicles. I think the guild is situated near the east gate, because the journey through the town only took several minutes. We stopped after going out the city gates. As soon as he puts me down, I jump out of the sack and take a long breath of the fresh air, before glaring at the chief with contempt.

Can’t you think of a better way?

“We shouldn’t waste time. The city’s on alert after your little light-show. They’ll be searching for you once they realize you’re not in your cell.”

He points at a stationary carriage as he continues,

“we’ll be using that one. We’ll go to the checkpoint just a bit further, between here and Gerslow. I’ll drop you off there. You go hop on the carriage first and wait for me.”

Fine. Got it,

I replied as I start walking.

“Oh, and be good to the guy we’re travelling with.”

Eh?

I look back at the chief questioningly, but his back is already turned, his hand waving at the guardsmen at the gate. I continue to the new carriage and open the door, and... well, inside is a man I least expected to see.

His cold eyes dimly lits inside the shaded carriage, his usual fake smile no longer on his face. We both stop in our motions, evidently not expecting to see each other here.

Seriously, chief... what were you thinking?

Why the hell is Ichard here?