"Assassin, Erase My Past" V5 Chapter 5 - Walking In The Night
"I heard you sent the trolls out on a search?"
"They're always on the lookout for the weirdest things, you know? Besides, I don't have to pay them."
Orphen mumbled and lightly tapped the empty bucket lying at his feet with his toe. It seemed that the bucket had been left there during a cleaning session, but frankly, it wasn't even clear how long ago that was. There seemed to be some dust forming on the rim of it.
Orphen looked up.
Leticia's study was supposed to be quite spacious, but it was occupied by bookcases filled with books, a desk piled high with documents and various items, boxes filled with secure letters meant to be disposed of, and surprisingly numerous bundles of letters carelessly relegated to the far corners of the room. The space was as cramped and dimly lit as a seedy bar. Dust swirled in the air, shining in the light filtered into the dark room. The only window was quite large, but not much sunlight shined through it because of a grove of trees just outside the window, which looked to be a windbreak. She was currently standing in front of the window.
Orphen tried to wave away the dust in front of him, and asked.
"Why is cleaning the rest of the house such a trivial matter when your study looks like this?"
"I can't have my janitor coming into my study, now can I? There are too many things that I can't let others see."
She looked out the window, staring at the moonlight sky.
"The document your standing on right now, for example, is a secret document brought to me by an elder's liaison."
"What?"
Orphen rushed to step back.
"Why would you leave something so important on the floor?"
"Because it has long since expired."
She said simply, and turned to face him. Her quiet face, framed by her long black hair, watched him. She spoke with sleepy, listless eyes—
"Now, Krylancelo. Let's get back to the story. I heard that you sent those dwarves to explore the city — what is their aim?"
"I don't have to say anything."
"I told you not to think about that assassin."
"Not to think about him—! The assassin who tried to kill me, and calls himself Krylancelo!?"
"That's exactly why!"
Leticia slapped her hand down on the study desk. A stack of documents on the corner shuffled and fell to the floor.
Orphen looked back at her with a stern look — it was a large room, no matter how cramped it was. Even though they were alone in the room, they weren't very close to each other. Even so, Orphen's nose could faintly smell her through the stench of musty dust.
Perhaps noticing this, or perhaps sensing from the expression on his face, Leticia suddenly relaxed her stiff facial muscles.
"Yes. I've got a few drinks in me, but it's just a nightcap—"
"You don't have time to sleep, do you? You've got orders to capture that assassin."
"Yeah..."
Leticia's bangs fell across her face for a moment as she nodded—
"Let me explain. He — let's call him 'Krylancelo', for the sake of convenience — he's been in town for at least two weeks now. Judging from when he's appeared, he seems to have been in and out of the city quite often. He's already assassinated five black-magic sorcerers. All at night, and all of them Elders of the Tower. Of course, the Elders are also vigilant and have guards around them — yet five have already been killed. Do you have any questions?"
"... Was there something you wanted to ask me?"
Orphen muttered, and her face twitched. Still, she nodded, almost forcibly.
"I'll ask you first. These are questions I've had ever since the incident occurred. I don't expect you to be able to answer them, but first of all, what is Krylancelo's motive?"
Orphen answered simply, folding his arms.
"If he's only targeting Elders, there's plenty of possibilities. Crushing the executive committee, or even just confusing them, could bring most of the Tower's functions to a grinding halt. In fact, isn't the Childman Class the only group currently operating within the Tower to capture Krylancelo?"
It was just a guess, but it wasn't like he was taking a shot in the dark, either — Leticia laughed bitterly as Orphen stared at her.
"Yes. Though it'd be more accurate to say that it's just Forte and I — Comicron died in an accident two months ago, Hartia is in Totokanta, and Korugon, of course, I never know what he's thinking... As for Azalie..."
She shook her head silently, then spread her arms out in a dismissive gesture.
"What I don't understand is, what's actually going on here! Like with Childman Powderfield, our own master! Its been over two months since he disappeared — and even Forte can't locate him. And us, well..."
She muttered weakly.
"I think he knows that we're nothing compared to our Master. If he really wanted to hide his footsteps, I doubt we'd ever find him, whether we spent two months or twenty years trying..."
"............"
Orphen was silent, listening to her complaints. Perhaps she took it as an agreement — perhaps she didn't care — but Leticia looked up from her desk.
"I thought about the possibility that Krylancelo might be trying to cripple the Tower. As soon as you aim for the head, the rest shrivels up, and becomes unable to act — that's how organizations work, no matter how solid they appear to be on the surface. To be frank, the Tower of Fang isn't what I'd call a strong organization, either."
"... What did you say?"
Orphen asked, unsure of what she meant. Leticia opened a drawer in her desk and withdrew a palm-sized bottle — it had a label on it for what appeared to be distilled spirits. Leticia fiddled with the bottle in her hand rather than opening the cork.
"Even the youngest apprentices know that the Elders aren't the true rulers of the Tower. After the disappearance of Childman, the strongest black-magic sorcerer who'd been running the Childman Class, order within the Tower rapidly deteriorated. You have no idea that Forte already traded his robes as head of the class for those of a master, do you? Other classrooms, especially those made up of younger generations of sorcerers, have begun to show signs of unrest. Forte's teacup was laced with shards of glass — lethally poisoned glass, of course. Forte seemed to know who did it, but he never reported it to upper management. He said that by handling it himself, he could take the initiative — just like his Master!"
Her dismissive tone made Orphen recall that, five years ago, he'd once doubted her and Forte's relationship. Leticia continued, her nose pointed upward.
"This is no joke! So what, he hung some young sorcerer getting ahead of himself out to dry in the eyes of a kangaroo court — what kind of initiative is that!? I'm scared — I never go near the Tower except to perform my regular duties. My robe, too, I try not to wear it as much as I can — it's becoming dangerous to display even the slightest power. Everyone is fighting for supremacy in the Tower."
"... That would seem to suggest another motive for him."
"Yes. The whole thing could be a farce orchestrated by someone else with the intent of further disrupting the Tower's current situation, which was brought about by Childman's disappearance."
"And perhaps they just consider the Elders who are worried about the rise of a second Childman to be a nuisance and have started assassinating them one by one... because they feel like they're in the way. But even if that's the case, the plan is just too crude... It's not really like choosing a prima donna for a theater. Gaining power in the Tower, no matter your history or means, isn't something you can control. There was a precedent set with Childman, who'd also been an assassin."
"I... don't want power. I just want a normal place to live. That's why I gave Forte the position of head of the classroom. I got residency and this house in return..."
Leticia mumbled and suddenly lowered the tone of her voice. She put the bottle of liquor on the desk, and then her tone calmed down.
"So, about the second matter. Whatever the motive, what is the means? How could he kill the elders in such a short period of time when they themselves were supposed to be on guard, with their own bodyguards? In the morning, the bodies are found in some deserted place — even the Childman Network has only a fleeting glimpse of the assassin, and no extended crime scene."
"Well, obviously he can do it, because he already has, but there aren't many people on the continent who can assassinate a man without the eyes of Childman's network catching sight of them. There are only two people in the West who could do such a thing."
"And who are they?"
"Krylancelo and Childman."
Leticia's face twisted sarcastically.
"My brother and my Master — which one do you think did it, Orphen?"
Orphen returned that sarcastic look.
"Your brother flunked out of the Tower because he couldn't kill people. Do you think he'd come back to Taphrem now, after all this time, and carry out those assassinations?"
"... So you're saying it was Master?"
"Childman's out of the question. He'll never come back to this city, or the Tower ever again."
"... You sound so sure of yourself. Do you know something? Do you know why he disappeared?"
"I don't know anything."
Orphen lied. As he said it, he looked her in the eye — obviously, she knew he was lying, but she didn't ask any follow up questions.
(Or maybe Tish is already aware of what happened to Master?)
The thought crossed his mind. Then Leticia asked.
"Then the two people from the west are out... Does that mean that black-magic sorcerers from the east have invaded the city? The only sorcerers who could rival either one of them would be of a class similar to the Thirteen Apostles."
"If that were the case, Forte would've been making a much bigger fuss by now. It seems he's been watching the Royal Capital around the clock. If an apprentice of the Thirteen Apostles stepped foot outside of the Royal Capital and so much as picked some flowers, Forte's network would know about it."
"Hey, Krylancelo..."
Leticia let out a wry chuckle, sounding tired.
"We have a clear look at the assassin — the one who, thanks to that Deep Dragon's attack, has nothing left to hide. He'd been wearing a disguise, but it was burned away. There's no doubt in my mind, it was Krylancelo, isn't that right?"
"Yes."
Orphen admitted.
He saw Leticia take a deep, pained breath.
"I never... I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, okay? I saw you being attacked this morning, and for a second, I thought — Oh, Krylancelo is trying to kill someone I've never met before. I wondered who it was, that dark-haired man that was about to be slaughtered..."
"Maybe that was because... he's the Krylancelo that everyone always wanted."
"............?"
Orphen's emotions turned empty as he continued.
"He's not like me — he's the ideal form of 'Krylancelo' that Childman was trying to cultivate... When people hear the name Krylancelo, he's what everyone imagines, and when they see him, they'll be convinced that he's the true Successor of Razor Edge."
"Krylancelo! I didn't mean it that way!"
She kicked at the study desk, and walking around it, was about to approach him when Orphen grabbed her hand. Leticia stopped moving, as if she'd been frozen by sorcery.
Orphen quietly continued.
"Ask me the third question."
"...I won't dare to identify him as 'Krylancelo', so I'll proceed by referring to him as the assassin. In any case, there must be someone sponsoring him."
"The answer to that question has to do with the motive. It would be... someone who wants to kill the Elders using an assassin named Krylancelo..."
Orphen sighed.
"Forte would be a prime suspect. I don't want to think about that too much, though."
"Well... I don't want to suspect my own people. Fourth question."
"Yeah."
Orphen murmured, and Leticia looked at him with sad eyes.
"Do you hate me now?"
"...? I don't understand."
When Orphen asked back, and blinked, she quickly came up to him, as if in warning.
"I... Do you think I bought this stupid house just to live here alone? I've been waiting for you for five years."
She continued — using her hand to gesture to her chest — to her study — and finally out the window of her study.
"I knew you'd come back someday, so I thought I'd make sure that we all had a place to live... I even had a room ready for Azalie. She might not have liked this kind of thing, but... if you want to live with a girl of your own choosing, I can build you another house away from the main home. To tell you the truth, and you might think I'm crazy for asking this, but I — I was thinking maybe I could be the one to fulfill that role for you."
"It's not like you to flirt like this, Tish—"
"What do you mean 'not like me'!?"
Thoom! A loud crash slammed against the wall even though no one had touched it — Leticia had long since had a tendency to invoke sorcery without being aware of it when she got overly excited. Of course, it was a very weak power. Even now, the shockwave that she'd unknowingly released thudded against the walls of her study. It was a secret to outsiders, but in fact, her second name — Keening — was also derived from this tendency.
Her eyes flared with rage, and she grabbed him by the chest.
"Even just now — saying things like 'Everyone's ideal Krylancelo'!? Even when people are attentive and quietly listening, you still have to say something to make them feel bad! You said it five years ago, too — that you believe names have meaning! I believe that too, but not in the same way that you do. It's not that the name itself has meaning. It's what you're called that has meaning. Whatever name you use to refer to yourself, you're still my brother, and you're still Krylancelo!"
She lowered her voice a little, squeezing his shirt with an unbelievably strong grip.
"And to Cleao? The person that she sees, it's you, Orphen."
"............"
Orphen looked into her eyes, which were only about fifteen centimeters away, aghast. He murmured, in a quivering voice.
"It sounds like you're preaching, Tish..."
"Of course I'm preaching to you."
She pressed her fingers harder.
"I have to say what I want to say, too — and what do you think I've been feeling for the past few days!? I haven't heard from you in five years, then two months ago, Hartia brought back a report stating that Azalie was dead, and that you were on the verge of committing treason against the Orisons, in case you weren't aware of that fact! Do you know how much trouble I had to go through to get that revoked!? Since then, Childman's been missing — the atmosphere of the Tower has turned to one of suspicion and it's no longer safe to go near it, then two weeks ago, an assassin calling himself Krylancelo started going around and killing Elders! You never told me your motivations earlier, but I had no doubt at the time that you'd come back to this city to avenge Azalie's death!"
Leticia had perhaps said those words without thinking about it—
When Orphen had heard them, though, something flashed through his mind.
But despite this, she continued.
"Forte gave me an order to capture or eliminate Krylancelo — and I accepted it. I thought it was you. I knew I could stop you, and if I couldn't, I figured I'd kill you, then myself. And so, night after night, I continued to patrol the nights, slowly reaching the end of my rope, when yesterday I got a call from a ranger station outside of the city. They said that you'd been taken into custody!? I didn't understand what was going on, but I rushed out and found you, looking exactly the same as you did five years ago, fighting with a grown-up version of yourself, a version who grew up to be a decent human being. After I helped you home, a strange dwarf was holding my cat hostage, Pat had destroyed the flower beds that I'd just built, you've been criticizing my study, and what's more, you think I smell like alcohol!? Even I can have a drink sometimes! Do you think I'm being a pain in the ass!? 'Cause I'm not even joking, I haven't begun to say enough!"
She was getting closer and closer as she screamed at him — the force in her hand growing stronger and stronger. Orphen almost coughed and just nodded, stiffly, with only his eyes.
She continued, her lips pouty. Behind her, boom! — a stack of papers erupted upwards without warning.
"Also — that whole 'It's not like you' comment, you're not one to talk, you know that, right? You're so upset because you were approached by that other 'Krylancelo'! Five years ago, you defied even Childman, and ran away from the Tower!"
Hearing this, Orphen was suddenly freed from his bindings.
"Y...you saw him? You saw him come to this house, saw us meet?"
"This is my house! If there were an intruder, of course I'd notice!"
Orphen laughed as she shouted.
"I didn't notice until he'd already showed up..."
"Who cares!? What, are you trying to become a master of hide and seek!?"
Orphen, angered by her outburst, tried to back away and unintentionally fell on his ass on the dusty floor. Amidst a blizzard of dust, Leticia, who'd been holding onto his chest, was dragged into a kneel on the floor.
Orphen spoke up, weakly.
"But five years ago, I would've noticed—"
"Oh — That's right! You don't want to be called by your own name, but you want to be treated like you used to be, isn't that so?"
Orphen had been caught off guard by her tone of voice ever since she'd started yelling at him a bit ago — and he had a feeling that he'd heard this tone somewhere before.
Wherever he'd heard it, she continued.
"But I think you're mistaken! You think you're inferior to that 'Krylancelo', don't you!? What makes you think that you're so inferior? That you're not good at killing? That you can't imitate his sarcastic way of speaking?"
"I—"
"Well, maybe you're right — maybe he is indeed the Krylancelo that Childman was trying to raise all along. He could've quickly stabbed Azalie when she turned into a monster — but if he was the ideal Krylancelo that Childman was trying to raise, then you're your ideal self, the one who defied his Master."
And — little by little, Leticia's tone was slowing down. Orphen, still fallen flat on his butt looked up at her as she leaned over him. In the dust, he could see her dark hair glistening and cascading down like a black waterfall amid white mist.
He felt like she had a different look in her eyes as she watched him — and come to think of it, she'd mentioned having a bit of alcohol in her system...
"You've changed these last five years. You've gained so much. You may have lost some of your power in exchange for that, because of how much time has passed, but everything else is still here. This city isn't going anywhere. I'm still here, too. Can't you see that?"
"I... just..."
Orphen froze, he felt like he was dreaming. He couldn't form his words — he was cowering, unable to move.
Before he knew it, he felt Leticia's hand, which had left the collar of his shirt, start to caress his cheek.
"Of course, maybe that's just favoritism..."
He started to realize that her face was getting closer than it should—
(Wait—)
The moment he was about to raise his voice—
"Maaaastteerrr!"
Bam!
There was about four and a half seconds between him hearing the voice and the door swinging open.
By then, however, Orphen had jumped at least two meters back from where he'd been sitting on his ass. He plunged head first into a box of unorganized papers, and struggled to get up.
"Y-Y — You little shit — Majic!"
Orphen yelled at his student as he came bursting into the study.
"What the hell do you think you're doing — barging in here out of the blue!"
"Oh, uhh, no, I just..."
The blond boy, with his hand still on the door, mumbled in annoyance.
"I'm sorry, I forgot to knock, but Master, you don't have to get so angry that you blush..."
"S—Shut up! Who's blushing!?"
"Who's..."
"What's wrong, Majic?"
— A cool voice interrupted.
He looked over and saw Leticia, sitting elegantly on her desk as she smiled at him.
(Women seem to be more relaxed in situations like this...)
Orphen thought secretly, as he inwardly broke out in a cold sweat.
(Well, maybe it's because they're already used to resentfully covering up their outward appearance.)
He added the disturbing thought. He then heard Majic yelling as he frantically waved his arms.
"Oh right, there's an emergency! If I remember right, it's dangerous to go to town because of the assassin you were talking about, right? Especially at night."
"... Yeaaahh."
Orphen nodded while forcibly suppressing his heart palpitations. Majic continued with a groan.
"There's no sign of Cleao — I think she's gone outside."
"—So, I'm going to help look for him, too."
"I don't know why, but..."
"Well, that's all right."
Dortin mumbled as he looked up at Cleao, who was holding the black baby dragon on her head. She looked down at him and held up her index finger, looking rather determined.
"No matter how you slice it, Orphen's been kind of out of it. As a reliable partner, I want him to be able to relax."
She added. She was wearing an ill-fitted T-shirt over her jeans. On top of that, she was wearing a deep purple blade-resistant jacket. She didn't have her usual sword — though, Dortin would like to think that his brother was the only person on the continent who was strange enough to not fear being seen walking around the city with a sword strapped to his belt.
"It was insane to join the search without a weapon."
He heard Vulcan say firmly.
Cleao, glancing over at him, retorted.
"I lost that sword, you know. It was one of my favorites among my father's collection."
"That's what you lost. A warrior's soul... After all, that sort of self-awareness is the difference between the Mazmaturia Fighting Dog and a meddlesome little girl."
"... You know what hurts worse than getting cut with a knife?"
"Uuuuhhhh!"
Dortin spoke to Cleao as she twisted her knuckles into Vulcan's temples.
"But seriously, it's dangerous to have no means of protection."
"You don't have anything either."
"Yeah, you're right... but it doesn't seem like there are many people who would seriously try to kill us."
"Well... That's not such a bad thing, but..."
Cleao, narrowing her eyes, threw Vulcan aside. She pointed to the baby dragon with his eyes closed and his paws dangling over her head.
"I've got Leki. So it should be fine. Even Orphen has stopped wandering off without waking me up first, ever since this little guy came along."
"So you're borrowing the tiger's authority—"
Vulcan stealthily muttered, and Cleao stomped him to shut him up.
Dortin sighed and looked around. It was nighttime in the city.
The night sky was casting its own light on the surface of the world — a white light in the oozing blue darkness. The stars and the moon, and the clouds that absorbed their light and seemed to drift gently on the wind. The orderly streets of Taphrem were still bustling, even if they weren't densely populated.
Perhaps they were people coming from different streets, but you could faintly hear the monotonous sound of taiko drums and harmonized voices chanting sutras...
Cleao, perhaps noticing this, suddenly looked up.
"What is that? That sound."
Dortin replied, scratching his cheek beneath his glasses.
"I think it's Laudatore Temporis Acti."
"Louda-wha? What's that?"
Cleao blinked. Even though she was listening, she hadn't removed her foot from Vulcan's back. Dortin held out his hands.
"Basically, it's Dragon Faith. In my own words. Well, not exactly, but..."
Hearing that, Cleao seemed taken aback. She turned her head in the direction of the sound, as if in alarm.
"Why would there be Dragon Faith here, in this city!? Of all places."
Well, even the girl knew that the so-called Dragon Worshippers were at odds with the sorcerers, so her surprise might've been justified. However, this town was a special case.
"Well, isn't there a structure built by the Wyrd Dragons, the Nornir, right here in this city?"
Dortin explained simply.
"The World Map Tower — that's what they worship as their idol. It is, after all, the only thing left on the continent that the Nornir and their people made specifically for the humans... Besides, sorcerers have a wide latitude. The city law allows for freedom of religion, whether you worship a dragon, the Demon King Sweden Boli, or even the Wyrd Sisters. That's why there's even a branch of the Kimrak Church in this town."
"Heh..."
With a dejected look on his face, Vulcan shouted, still pinned under her foot.
"Hah... I can't help but smile when the ignorant little girl opens her big fat mouth."
"You didn't know that either, did you!?"
"Daaaahhh! Stop grinding your heel!"
As Dortin watched them absentmindedly, as was always the case, Cleao suddenly turned to him with a gleam in her eye. She was still standing over his half-crying brother.
Suddenly, she asked.
"Hey, do you want to go see it?"
"What?"
Dortin asked back in a stupefied voice.
Cleao had already left his brother alone and walked away before he could give his consent.
"Oh, you know, that Louda thing. Doesn't it sound interesting?"
"Oh, uhh—..."
Dortin responded, catching up with her. He grabbed onto the hem of her blade-resistant jacket.
"I'm not saying it's dangerous to go take a look, but worshippers performing ancient rites can be quite nervous..."
"What? If you don't check out the stuff that interest you, you'll regret it later."
"I wouldn't say that — not in your case, you're more likely to regret taking unnecessary risks..."
"Leave it alone, Dortin!"
With a loud thud, Vulcan, who'd been lying on the ground until then, stood up. He flung his fur cloak aside and continued with his theatrical overacting.
"We have no time to be bothered by a fickle little girl who can't concentrate or pay attention! We have a serious plan to feed that sweet loan-sharking sorcerer false information, because he was dumb enough to trust me, his biggest natural enemy, when he got down on his knees and begged me for a favor! Now we'll lure him into a trap, and settle this whole thing once and for all, and get to have a laugh to boot!"
"What are you thinking telling me all of that...?"
Cleao sighed.
Dead silence. Vulcan thoughtfully put his finger to his mouth for a moment, then answered.
"Oh."
He raised his voice as if he'd suddenly remembered something.
"I'm always dragging him along, so I'd forgotten that some little girl was tagging along beside him.
"Well, I can't really argue that, but..."
Cleao seemed dismayed.
"B—But, you — you've been making all these useless plans! Why don't you try to be useful for a change, and stop taking detours!"
"Huh. You talking to yourself now, Dortin—"
"I'm talking to you!"
Cleao shouted, her hair standing on end. His brother didn't show a bit of remorse, and simply smiled.
"You stupid little kitch monkey! You think that the Fighting Dog of Mazmaturia, Volcano Vulcan, would really try to please that loan-sharking sorcerer!?"
"...Kitch monkey...?"
"In other words, I wanted to call you a bitch monkey, but well..."
As he stared at the two of them fighting from a distance, Dortin rubbed his forehead and sighed again.
(This isn't a good time to be exploring... It's absurd to think we could find a single person in a city in the first place...)
Then.
Thoom, Thoom, Thoom, Thoom — Dortin was startled by the sound of approaching drums. He looked across the street and saw what looked like a funeral procession coming towards him.
It was eerie to see the group of figures moving along the street — especially at night. Even the random passersby along the road were avoiding them at a short distance. All of the people in line were wearing a white cape-like hood over their eyes. These hoods were characteristic of the Dragon Worshippers of Taphrem, which allowed them to participate in ceremonies while keeping their faces hidden.
One of the people at the front of the line was beating a drum. It was a simple drum, about the size of a wooden hammer, and looked like something you could buy at a toy store. The words being chanted in tandem with the drum beat were either prayers or meaningless grunts, and each one of them was a completely different tone. Some interpreted this as a curse against the voice magic sorcerers, but Dortin didn't believe that was the case — rather, he believed that it had no meaning at all. That it was just a bunch of disparate people coming together in a disparate way.
That's what faith under persecution meant — even if they had a right to exist by law, that didn't mean that there wasn't any silent (or even loudly outspoken) oppression. The Dragon Faith was as ancient as the Kimrak Church, so it was a little better off, but when it came to newer forms of religion, that oppression could be severe. No one complained about invading privacy under the guise of protective 'surveillance', after all.
Well — that sort of oppression, it wasn't necessarily something that had to be stated. Not everything in the world was one-size-fits-all.
(Huh...?)
It was only when the line was getting pretty close that Dortin noticed something odd.
(Why are they walking around here in the first place, when we're so far from the World Map Tower...?)
— And behind him, about to settle the score—
"Oh what do you know!?"
Cleao shouted, quickly standing up. She thrust her index finger at Vulcan, who was lying in shambles on the street.
"There's no way I'll stand for some little tanuki calling me a monkey!"
"Is that what this is about...?"
Dortin muttered from behind, and Cleao turned around.
"This is important. We have to fight against unjust slander. I was seriously offended when Orphen told me that I needed to fix my violent tendencies."
"I've heard that there are types of therapy for tobacco smokers where they sit around in a circle and quit smoking by complaining to each other about the risks of it..."
"What are you trying to say?"
"Nothing..."
Dortin looked away, his eyes naturally falling on the procession about to pass nearby. The procession of white capes continued on its way, still chanting in their rumbling voices. They recited their prayers to the Dragon races, the rightful rulers of the continent—
(............?)
Dortin suddenly blinked his eyes. The figure at the head of the procession, the one beating the drum, promptly stopped.
The chanting of the procession didn't stop, however. Only the drumming did, and the person at the front handed the drum to the person behind him.
And just like that, he took off his hood.
"Ah—!"
He heard Cleao let out a short, shrieking cry. An unremarkable black-haired, dark-eyed boy's face appeared from beneath the hood—
The boy mumbled something. He could see it only in the movement of his lips, but the voice itself was mingled with the chanting from the procession, and he couldn't hear a word of it.
Then the boy disappeared.
(Huh...?)
Reflexively, he turned his head around — almost at the same time that Cleao shrieked. He saw the girl crouching on the road, holding her blonde head. In a tight voice, she screamed.
"—Leki!"
The meaning of her scream was lost on Dortin. Leki — that little dragon was right on top of Cleao's head. However, standing right in front of Cleao was the boy who'd just disappeared...
He plucked Leki, who seemed unable to move, from the top of the girl's head. A single needle was sticking out of Leki's back as he hung there limply. The needle was as long as the spokes of a bicycle, and it seemed that it had penetrated from the baby dragon's back clear through to its belly.
The boy put the white hood back on as he held the still-unmoving dragon in his arms.
"First — I'll start with the most dangerous of pawns — so no hard feelings, right?"
He mumbled something along those lines and returned to the queue.
"Ah..."
Cleao stood up steadily, clutching her still trembling shoulders in her own arms. She bit her lip, looking pale.
"W-wait! What are you going to do with Leki?"
She ran at the boy in the procession, who was already several meters ahead of her. Without looking back, the boy sped away from the line and quickly entered the nearest alley with the baby dragon in his arms. Cleao followed him and also disappeared into the alley.
"W-what the hell just happened?"
Dortin groaned. The procession continued on as if nothing had happened. The night sky was clear, and there was nothing happening on the streets of Taphrem.
But — something was wrong.
Cleao had followed him. For now, he did what he did best—
Dortin, deciding somewhat late, spun around and ran — only to stumble over his brother's body, which was still lying on the road, and stopped him dead in his tracks.
"W-What are you doing, Brother?"
"Nothing, I just can't move because of the damage caused by that girl's Avalanche Hold..."
"Oh, geez!"
Dortin cried out in desperation and hoisted his brother's body over his head. He then started to run as fast as he could.
"... No, Dortin, don't be in such a hurry to take me to the doctor, your brother's condition isn't that bad."
"Nobody's thinking about that!"
Dortin spat. Vulcan mumbled above him, somewhat groggily.
"... Then where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"What do you think we've been doing all this time while making these night rounds? That guy — that was obviously the assassin. We have to report this to the sorcerer!"
Behind Dortin, the monotonous beating of drums, probably from the person who'd just been forced to play them, began to echo through the night streets once more.
Table of Contents
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| (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) |
The Usual Victim The Sudden Assassin The Melancholy Homecomer The Persistent Visitor The Night Walker The Seeker Confronted The Successor of Steel |
- Notes
- Vulcan's tiger comment is based on a Chinese saying "To borrow the tiger's authority." This saying comes from a Chinese fairytale, in which a Tiger, stalking through the woods, happens upon an unsuspecting Fox. Just as he's about to devour the fox, the fox balks at the Tiger's arrogance, and promptly informs the Tiger that he's not the only king of the jungle. The Tiger doubts the fox's claim, of course, and to prove himself as king of the jungle, the Fox invites the Tiger to follow him down a path. He insists to the Tiger that everyone who sees the fox will flee in terror, and that if proven correct, the Tiger must spare his life. The Tiger agrees to this.
As they walk down the path, villagers and animals alike flee from the Fox. At the end of their stroll, the Fox turns around and tells the Tiger that this proves his claim. The Tiger has no choice but to concede, and leaves the Fox. What the Tiger did not realize, is that the animals and villagers alike saw not the Fox, but the enormous Tiger following behind it. They only ran because the Tiger was there, but the fox arrogantly strolled along as if he were the creature to be feared, and the Tiger believed his lie.
This saying, of course, means to throw around weight that isn't yours. In Vulcan's case, he's saying that Cleao's using Leki to bully others, because it's Leki, not Cleao, that they're afraid of. - Laudatore Temporis Acti is a latin phrase referring to one who praises the past. An example of this is people who speak often of "The good old times."
- Vulcan & Cleao's stupid argument. This is awkward to tackle in English. He called her a (Go)mesu Monkey in the original text, referencing the kanji (ko), meaning child, and mesu, meaning female, usually when referring to an animal. He just changed the first sound from Ko to Go, with the implication being that he wanted to call her 'little girl monkey' (girl in this case being used in a derogatory way to refer to her like an animal. I used kitch/bitch because it carries the derogatory animal context.