《Enigma》


 Chapter 1: A Lonesome Night

    Ma¡¯at stared down at the suited man quivering in fear. Faint tears were forming in his eyes. His black, matted hair was unevenly parted across his forehead, drenched in a cold sweat.


    ¡°Who were you again?¡± Ma¡¯at finally asked, though it didn¡¯t matter one bit. No truth or lie would save the man¡¯s life. All Ma¡¯at knew was that this was definitely the man she¡¯d been sent to kill. A mercenary must kill their targets, after all. Except if they¡¯re brushed off through coercion or bribery, but Ma¡¯at didn¡¯t have to worry about that. She didn¡¯t have a handler, nor a director. If she did, she filled both roles. Often the jobs she took up were found and investigated by her and her alone, no third parties involved. It was the best way to conduct her kind of work without any meddling or trickery along the road.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you know who I am!? I¡¯m the head of the Gunblades! If you kill me, there¡¯ll be hell-¡±


    Woosh.


    One of the two sheathed swords on Ma¡¯at¡¯s hips suddenly flew forward and swung in a semicircle, decapitating the man in an instant. Squirting blood coated his previously pristine dress coat and shirt, and his body limply fell to the ground from a half-bent pleading posture. The bloodied, floating blade returned to Ma¡¯at¡¯s sheath as if a wayward wind had blown it there.


    The night sky distracted her apathetic, feline gaze from the mess. An ocean of stars above lit the empty landscape in a sapphire hue. Her eyes trained on the horizon, and thoughts of the city Reville entered her mind as it often had on trivial jobs.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ maybe he was right. A break wouldn¡¯t hurt.¡±


    Whether it was the long journey, or the multitude of tiresome jobs she¡¯d accepted, she was deathly tired.


    For her, not much had changed since the war. Since the Advent. The world was still built on blood and bodies, a fact the exhausted woman knew awfully too well. Age marked her face with faint lines. Her charm wasn¡¯t in common beauty found in the faces of those younger than her, but in the sly fierceness in her posture and visage. Her dark skin, a clear giveaway of her Sirithisian heritage, glowed an auburn hue in the light of her newly burning campfire. Her black hair, an ashen shade, glistened like wet charcoal in the dense moonlight. Her two serrated swords sat sheathed on her hips like guns in holsters. Light scars tore across her face in thin lines, fully healed wounds leaving indelible marks. They only added to the catlike fierceness that she held in spades.


    The warmth of the fire settled her mind. Firelight had always calmed her, but on a quiet night like this, it reminded her of someone dear she hadn¡¯t seen in a long time. She smiled and closed her eyes, the campfire finally lulling her into a much-needed sleep. Longing pulled at her heart. Dancing visions of a girl wearing red painted her dreams. She was laughing and smiling. Life seemed to take on a completely new color when she was by her side. Ma¡¯at could never remember her dreams, though she could always remember that special girl in them.


    She woke up with a start. It was still nighttime, technically early morning. The buzzing of distant insects could be heard amongst the flora. Flat, muddy, black marshland as far as the eye could see. It was dotted with razorgrass and reeds hissing in the dry wind. The Eastern Mudflats.


    She tossed a couple new logs into the fire in order to fuel its whimpering embers. In response to the food, the fire grinned in a way only a fire could; it sputtered and glowed magnificently under the still dark sky.


    From around her shoulder she swung a small string pouch into her hands and felt its weight. Then, she opened it and reached inside. She took out three pieces of dried meat and a small loaf of sugarbread. She gorged herself, deeply enjoying the succulent peppered meat as much as she could before she would go without food for another long, long while. Then came the cake. As much as she wanted to enjoy it slowly and thoughtfully, there was almost nothing Ma¡¯at loved more than pastries and other baked goods. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps it was the only ray of light in her gray, dirty, bloodsoaked life. She devoured the sweet bread as she gazed into the campfire, entranced by the dancing flames, then unclipped a canteen from her waist and put it to her lips. Lukewarm water spilled into her mouth in a steady stream, curing her of slight dehydration. The mercenary woman had tracked the Gunblades for quite some distance with no time to satisfy the natural needs of her fleshy construct. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Coming to a silent accordance with herself, Ma¡¯at rose to her feet and walked over to where the man she¡¯d killed hours before still lay. His skin had begun to grow pale and sink into the crevasses of his skeleton. His eyes were lifeless, the furious glimmer that once filled them reduced to nothing. His killer crouched down beside him, stared at him for a while, then reached down and picked up his cold, white hand. A ring was there, adorning his middle finger tightly. It was a silvery blue, and the flat part that pointed away from the back of his hand had a design on it, no doubt the logo or icon of the Gunblades. It was a bullet wreathed in shadowy smoke. Behind the bullet was both a gun and a sword crossed in an X-shape.


    ¡°Really was him.¡± She pocketed the fancy ring and looked to her right a few meters across the plateau.


    Standing there, slightly shivering, was a black horse darker than the purest metals. It had once belonged to the dead man before her, but now was ownerless. He had fallen off of it when Ma¡¯at appeared to annihilate him and his crew. He¡¯d had so much confidence at first, only for it to melt away as soon as his underlings were dispatched. That was how they all were. As long as they had ten, a hundred able bodies to hide behind, they could boast as wildly as they¡¯d like. But when that shield was gone, they fell to their knees and begged for their lives. It was yet another tired scene that Ma¡¯at had long grown accustomed to and bored of.


    She eyed the mare with an odd expression. It was absentmindedly pushing its hooves into the squishy mud, completely oblivious to its newfound circumstances. ¡°Hey,¡± she called.


    The horse looked at her with disinterest.


    ¡°Want to be mine? It¡¯ll be a hell of a lot better than how those reht¡¯kas treated you.¡± Ma¡¯at nudged her head toward the dead leader and a few other rotting corpses.


    The horse blew air through its large rounded nostrils. It took a few steps closer and lowered its head a bit.


    ¡°Smart one, huh?¡± She crept closer to the steed and carefully patted its snout. It whinnied in response.


    The land seemed to heave with life and anticipation as the sun rounded the world-cloth; the seam beyond, under the horizon. In the far distance, a great many landmarks could be spotted. To the west, Dragon¡¯s Jaw: an ominous mountain casting great shadows of equal terror. Lodged in it, Ma¡¯at had heard from a Reville shopkeep, was the skull of one of the long-deceased dragonlords. To the far, far north, Mount Relkry: another mountain though covered in a cloak of white, powdery snow. Rumors had it that it was the breeding ground of hundreds of bloodthirsty vax. To the south, the Bloodspike Rapids: a forest housing a raging river and home to several clans of anisai, though their numbers were nothing compared to several years ago.


    A calling. Another pang of lonely longing filled Ma¡¯at¡¯s lungs, then left her body with a weighty breath as she swung her legs over the obsidian steed. There was no other place she wanted to go at that moment than Reville. A place of history and bustling markets. A place of many cultures intertwined in its busy streets, spreading out like a spider web from each and every citizen. A city of wealth and poverty. Of deal brokers and deal breakers. Of soldiers and mercenaries. Kind folk and murderers.


    But it was also her mission. Her job. A merc¡¯s a merc. The saying she had heard hundreds of times rang like a dull bell inside her head. She had to show the ring to a certain client¡­ as well as tell him the story. He was an odd one, but he always paid in full. And then some.


    With a loud crack of the leather reins, Ma¡¯at rode off farther into the east toward the city burning a hole in her mind¡¯s eye. Across the muddy flatland. Past it. Further and further on.

 Chapter 2: Road to Reville

    A snaking, winding trail of hoofprints led through the middle of the Eastern Mudflats and into the wastelands between them and Reville. The black horse welcomed the change in location warmly, for it hated muddy, wet areas. Mud and grime would dirty its raven sheen.


    Ma¡¯at rode across the barren dirt and past sizable hills and rocks. Shoulder height trees with jagged, skinny limbs could be seen all around. They grew no leaves, but strange fruits hung from them like great bulbous sacks. Chromatically, they ranged from green to blue to purple. A great urge to pluck them and eat them then and there tugged at the merc, but she stifled the feeling for fear of the fruits harboring parasitic life or poisonous seeds.


    The sun had lazily risen to a low point in the sky, creating a beautiful gradient of colors that rippled among the gathering sheep-clouds. The white tufts crawled across it from the Void Sea in the far east and made their way west to recycle themselves and repeat the aerial marathon evermore.


    With only a few bumps along the way, Ma¡¯at felt good about getting to Reville on time. She carried a standard pocketwatch with her in her sling pouch that also relayed the month and day: August 25th. And not a day too soon nor a day too late. Her client loved for things to be just on time.


    Up ahead, a small cabin came into view made out of dark oak logs. Its two square windows were shadowy and the one door at the front was swung wide open. A wizened man sat in a wooden rocking chair on the front porch beside a young girl who stood next to him holding a large book. Its pages sat open in her tiny palms like a viridescent bird spreading its parchment wings.


    The girl set the book down and pointed as the mercenary woman approached. Her mouth jabbered up and down, a sure sign that she was exclaiming something to the old man. The man, upon hearing her, stopped rocking and gazed gravely into nothingness.


    Ma¡¯at rode on, ignoring the two, but was stopped by the girl¡¯s sudden voice. ¡°Hi, miss¡­!¡± She spoke shyly, yet it seemed that her curiosity had burned most of the shyness barring her from speaking. ¡°Are you one of those¡­ missionary folks?¡±


    ¡°Mercenary,¡± the old man grumbled. It was clear he wasn¡¯t enthused about the girl¡¯s sudden questioning of Ma¡¯at.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I said!¡±


    ¡°No, you said¡­¡± The man¡¯s sentence faded into oblivion. Clearly it was a conversation they¡¯d had many times in the past.


    Ma¡¯at nodded while looking the girl dead in the eyes. She was very frail and wore a white dress with black buttons at the collar, as well as a white sun hat that cast a cool shadow across her face.


    ¡°Really?¡± The girl stared in awe, her beady eyes full of wonder.


    ¡°Manners,¡± the old man grumbled.


    ¡°Oh! Sorry, ma¡¯am. My name is Lucy. And this is my grandfather.¡± She gestured with two hands to the old man. He was mostly bald and featured a medium-length beard grayed by age. Half of it still held some youthful black hairs, however. The man¡¯s eyes were just as grayed, if not more so.


    ¡°William is my name.¡±


    Ma¡¯at looked the man dead in the eyes as well. A question rose in her throat which she did not subdue. ¡°Are you blind?¡±


    William continued to stare into nothingness, but his gaze met Ma¡¯at¡¯s coincidentally. He nodded.


    ¡°He is. But he can still work with or without my help. All I do is read him stories every day,¡± Lucy said, giggling lightly.


    ¡°Farming?¡± Ma¡¯at asked.


    William nodded again. ¡°Hypnophage. The only thing that grows out here.¡±


    ¡°Those are the weird fruits that hang from the trees here,¡± his granddaughter added.


    Hypnophage. The word itself was concerning, nevermind the alien appearance of the plants.


    ¡°Only people who come out here are lookin¡¯ to escape reality. Or run from their own minds. They¡¯re our only buyers. Them and quacks. You one of those, mercenary?¡± A cold silence followed the old man¡¯s question. His voice was hoarse and gruff.


    ¡°No. As a matter of fact, I need to get going. I have somewhere to be.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s that?¡± Lucy asked, oblivious to the mercenary¡¯s urgency.


    ¡°Reville.¡±


    ¡°Fancytown, Lucy.¡± William patted her on the shoulder with a rough, callused hand. Years and years of hard labor hung from his digits. ¡°No place for the weak and the poor. You go on your way, mercenary. We common folk want nothin¡¯ to do with Fancytown.¡±


    Ma¡¯at narrowed her shadowed eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t bring trouble. If anything, I cleared it out for you. A band of murderers and thieves named the Gunblades were prowling the outskirts of the city. They might¡¯ve come for you and your granddaughter next if I didn¡¯t put them in their place.¡±


    ¡°Hmph.¡± The old man scoffed and shook his head. ¡°No bandits want hypnophage. Destroys the mind. Kills the id and blooms the ego.¡±


    ¡°He means,¡± Lily added, ¡°that it causes halluco-notions.¡±


    ¡°Hallucinations,¡± William grumbled.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I said!¡±


    William put his head in his hands, then gazed greyly at the merc again. ¡°Pardon her. I try to teach ¡®er, but nothin¡¯ stays in that brain of hers.¡±


    Lucy punched the man in the shoulder, blushing. She pouted and gazed back at Ma¡¯at with a curious look.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Well, you never told us your name, miss.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Ma¡¯at.¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯at,¡± the girl said slowly, enunciating the T with a loud ¡®tuh¡¯ sound. ¡°Never heard it before.¡±


    ¡°She a dark-skin, Lucy?¡± the man asked in a flat tone. He scratched his beard with one hand.


    ¡°Mhm. A real pretty one.¡±


    ¡°You Sirithisian, mercenary?¡±


    Ma¡¯at didn¡¯t answer at first, something that made the old man think she¡¯d gone and left without him noticing. After a while, she responded. ¡°Not anymore.¡±


    William sat in silence and nodded sagely.


    ¡°What does she-¡±


    He placed a hand on Lucy¡¯s shoulder again, this time as a way to quell her voice. ¡°I understand. My son, he fought in the war. Came back changed. Told me lots of things. Things I¡¯m grateful I didn¡¯t get to see with my own eyes.¡± A grim aura wreathed the man. The sun drifting slowly above them all became partly covered by a wayward cloud. They all sunk into a sea of silence for a moment as the cloud passed.


    ¡°He have a name?¡± Lucy asked, pointing at the black horse.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Huh? You gotta name your horse, ma¡¯am!¡±


    ¡°Do I?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! How about¡­¡± Her voice rang like a pleasant windchime in the air as it drifted off, her thoughts colliding into one idea. ¡°Deimos?¡±


    ¡°Deimos?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the name of the hero¡¯s horse in this storybook. Here.¡± Lucy held the book out to Ma¡¯at.


    She leaned over and carefully took it into her own hands. She flipped through it until the striking image of a huge, muscular man riding a black horse came into view. The man held two flaming spears and was using them to fight an armada of ghoulish creatures while on horseback. Ma¡¯at turned the book over and studied its cover. In bold golden letters on green fabric, it read: ¡®Furio: Battle of the Dreaded Scourge¡¯.


    ¡°Well? What do you think?¡±


    Ma¡¯at¡¯s eyes darted across the book as she skimmed the worn pages. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ certainly interesting. I¡¯m not much of a reader, though.¡±


    ¡°No, the name! What do you think of the name?¡±


    She looked down at the horse¡¯s head in front of her and gently stroked its mane. ¡°Deimos. Do you like it?¡±


    The horse whinnied in reply.


    A very small smile crept onto the merc¡¯s face for a moment, but it faded in the dusty wind. ¡°Alright. He seems to like it,¡± she said as she handed the book back over to Lucy. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°No problem.¡± Lucy smiled gleefully. ¡°A name¡¯s free, after all. Everything deserves a name.¡±


    William nodded and closed his eyes briefly.


    ¡°Did you need anything else, miss Ma¡¯at?¡±


    She was about to shake her head, but as she looked at the man and his granddaughter one last time, she changed her mind. ¡°How much for a fruit?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Hmph. 10 Kin.¡±


    She placed two bronze coins in the old man¡¯s veiny hands. After feeling them for a few seconds, William nodded to Lucy and Lucy went and fetched the fruit for her.


    ¡°One hypnophage for you, ma¡¯am.¡± The little girl handed her a pear-sized fruit that glowed with a mixture of swirling colors. Blue, green and purple pressed against its gelatinous flesh.


    She slipped it into her sling pouch and thanked them again, gazing at their situation with mild pity. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯d rather live out here in the dust than in the city? You could even move west.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re content, mercenary. I hope you find a place to settle down, too. A nomad may never be bored, but he¡¯s always lonely.¡±


    Ma¡¯at thought for a moment, checked her pocketwatch, then waved them farewell. ¡°Goodbye. It was¡­ nice to meet you both.¡±


    ¡°Bye-bye!¡± Lucy waved energetically. ¡°Have fun in Fancytown!¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, mercenary. May you find your star.¡± The old man waved blissfully, his cracked skin pale underneath the rising sun.


    Finally, Ma¡¯at rode past the cabin and the two farmers. It was 7 o¡¯clock on the dot. She had to ride, and fast, if she wanted to make it on time. But for some odd reason, she didn¡¯t feel like the encounter had been a waste of time. She didn¡¯t care much for the hypnophage or for the money she¡¯d given away. What was it he said?


    ¡°May you find your star,¡± she repeated to herself. She pondered the phrase as she gently rubbed her horse¡¯s velvety ears. They glistened like her own hair in the dry heat. ¡°Good boy, Deimos.¡±


    Deimos whinnied and tossed his head happily.


    A small smile graced the mercenary¡¯s face again before fading away in the howling wind.


    She came upon a rocky mound and climbed it to a small ridge. Atop it, she could clearly see her goal. The city of Reville sat closer than ever, a gleaming metropolis of steel, brick, steam, brass and smoke. Titanic airships hovered in the sky above it, projecting the city¡¯s military might and wondrous construction across the landscape. Soon, she would be home. She could finally rest.


    Surrounding the city were more muddy paths, though they were much drier than the western reaches Ma¡¯at had rode in from. Lined up in front of the city¡¯s strong bronze gates were rows and rows of people of all shapes and sizes. Tourists, mercs, soldiers, delivery men and the like were waiting to enter Reville with growing fatigue. Some waited patiently, though their disdain born of the time wasted was perfectly clear on their faces. Others were not so quiet, hollering at the dazzlingly-dressed and armored soldiers atop the steel turrets above them. The faint rumble of airship rotors and the lulling sound of propellers in the sky managed to deafen the cries to some extent, though the people¡¯s outrage was still very much known.


    Ma¡¯at rode to the far back of the line behind two disgruntled men. Their suits were brown and rugged, and they held canes crafted out of false gold.


    ¡°Preposterous, I say! What a backup! This city has gone downhill, as I keep telling people. Look at this line. What can possibly be taking them so damn long?¡±


    The other man by his side sighed and rubbed the back of his neck in exhaustion. He was awfully sore from standing for hours on end. ¡°I dunno! But yellin¡¯ ain¡¯t gonna fix anythin¡¯ ya blighter. Doin¡¯ nothing but gettin¡¯ on my nerves, better yet.¡±


    ¡°Hush, boy. How are they to know our anger if we do not make it known all the more? This is the third time! The third! Must they check every person who enters this damn city? At the cost of our valuable time, no less!?¡±


    The other man scowled in frustration. ¡°We¡¯re at the back, dimwit. They CAN¡¯T hear you! Even if they did, they wouldn¡¯t give a rat¡¯s arse. We ain¡¯t noble folk. We can¡¯t cut in line. We can¡¯t do shite but wait and follow ¡®em.¡± He jutted a thumb at the people in front of them for emphasis.


    ¡°Excuse me, but what¡¯s the commotion about?¡± Ma¡¯at asked, staring intently at the two men. They whipped around in surprise. Apparently, they hadn¡¯t noticed her riding up behind them.


    ¡°Tommy,¡± the eloquent one whispered, ¡°that¡¯s a merc. Don¡¯t be rude, old chap.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t gonna, ol¡¯ coot.¡± He turned and met Ma¡¯at¡¯s gaze. He was a slightly rotund man. A pocketwatch dangled haphazardly from his right chest pocket. ¡°Sorry, miss. My buddy ¡®ere likes to hoot and holler like a goddamn owl. Or maybe like a rooster. Damn annoyin¡¯, even to me,¡± he said with an odd grin. He coughed awkwardly and straightened up. ¡°And, umm¡­ to answer your question. There¡¯s been a lotta crime recently, so Reville¡¯s searching each and every person coming through. Pain in the arse¡­¡±


    ¡°A lot of crime?¡±


    ¡°Mhm, that¡¯s right.¡± The polite, skinny man held his pointer finger up as if he were exclaiming something profound. ¡°Many do-badders out and about. I would watch out, my lady. Though you appear to know your way around a blade, there is no telling what evil men inside these walls would do to kidnap an exotic woman such as yourself.¡±


    The orbicular gentleman eyed his fellow with a cocked eyebrow.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need your flattery,¡± Ma¡¯at replied. ¡°I know too well the evil that takes root in every city. Reville is no different. But it¡¯s my home. I won¡¯t have you slander it in front of me.¡± Ma¡¯at¡¯s fierce eyes tore the prideful man into pieces.


    ¡°Pardon me, ma¡¯am. I did not mean to belittle Reville in any way. I simply-¡±


    ¡°Should¡¯a listened to your own advice,¡± the rotund man spat, then punched his colleague in the shoulder. ¡°As I was sayin¡¯, everybody¡¯s in an uproar ¡®bout how long the searches are taking. We probably won¡¯t get into the city for another few hours at least.¡±


    ¡°A few hours, huh?¡± After thinking for a moment, an idea formed in Ma¡¯at¡¯s brain. She treaded off toward the end of the line, leaving the weary men in the dust. Their embarrassing squabble continued behind her, fading into white noise, then nothing. Nothing but the hum above and the countless other complaints polluting the busy air.


    A gathering of soldiers were busy searching a wagon just before the city gates. One of them, holding a clipboard and a black quill pen, looked up to see a mercenary riding straight toward them on a black horse. As she approached, he held up a palm to stop her. ¡°Halt. What is your business? Why are you cutting in line, merc?¡±


    ¡°I hear you have a crime problem,¡± she responded.


    ¡°Yes, what of it? Come to puke your complaints and critiques all over me and my men? We¡¯ve had enough of that, thank you.¡±


    ¡°No. I came to show you this.¡± Ma¡¯at plucked the Gunblades ring from her bag and held it up in the dawning sunlight. Its silvery metal twinkled and made the guard squint his eyes.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Just a ring. A ring once owned by the head of the Gunblades, who I killed on a job last night.¡±


    ¡°The head¡­¡± The guard¡¯s repetitious sentence trailed off as he stared into space. Coming back to himself, he blinked three times and met Ma¡¯at¡¯s attention again. ¡°I see. Who gave you such a job?¡± The man wrote something with the quill pen, listening intently.


    ¡°A merc doesn¡¯t give up her clients. Surely you should know that.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine. Is that why you''ve come to Reville today? To turn it in?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ what is your name and class?¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯at. Class B.¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± the man took a deep breath and thought pensively. Then he turned to a soldier near him and whispered a conversation for a moment.


    Ma¡¯at tapped her right sheath in a steady beat, most likely out of habit rather than impatience.


    The guard returned to speak with her. ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll let you in. Just let me examine the ring closely.¡± He did so, turning it up and down. ¡°Okay. Seems real. Keep in mind, merc, that if you¡¯re lying we¡¯ll either arrest you or ban you from entering the city outright. Understand?¡±


    ¡°No lies,¡± Ma¡¯at replied with a nod.


    ¡°Okay. Let her in,¡± he said to the others. He turned back to Ma¡¯at and pointed through the gates. ¡°Ride in through that tunnel and you¡¯ll come to the central district. You can get anywhere you need to go from there.¡± As the man spoke, he slowly realized that she had likely been to Reville before, and that the information was redundant.


    Ma¡¯at nodded again, and as she did so, the great gates rose to finally let her inside the city. She rode into the shadow of the wall, then the structure itself. A refreshing coolness fell upon her skin in absence of the beaming sun. She moved forward into the darkness of the tunnel ahead, the gates creaking to a close behind her.


    The tunnel had rows of silent soldiers against its walls standing perfectly still. No sound but Deimos¡¯s hooves clacking against the cracked cobblestone filled the dark space. At the very end, the golden light of dawn shone through as if to welcome the mercenary woman back home. It pulled her out from the shadowy, dank tunnel and out into a sprawling city crawling with humanoids of many races. Beastmen, vulpats, illum, demonites and more walked along the beautiful streets. Many wore armor and weapons, as well as backpacks and cooking supplies. Others, unarmed citizens, passed by in a hurry on their way to their jobs or whatever else was on their minds. An almost overwhelming feeling of sonder swept over Ma¡¯at like a coastal wave. A shiver ran up her spine.


    Warm, cozy and welcoming would be the best words to describe a city like Reville. Near Valeigh Street, a party of violinists played a colorful melody that seeped into the brittle cracks of the old buildings and their occupants. Passerby stopped to hear them play, clapping as they finished song after song. Dozens of people in suits and dresses sitting at a nearby cafe drank their coffee with glee. Endless babble left their mouths; countless conversations Ma¡¯at was not privy to and could not understand from her distance. The central district was wide and oval-shaped. An array of shops, restaurants, and other establishments lined the curved roads. The mesmerizing smell of freshly baked bread wafted into the mercenary¡¯s nostrils from one of them. A great pale fountain sat in the middle of the district. Refreshing, cold water streamed down its oblique foundation satisfyingly. The calming sound it emanated was overpowered only by the busy talks of the people sitting on its rim chatting. An elderly man nearby flipped through a dirty newspaper, its pages torn and coated with a certain grime. Oil, perhaps from machinery, the same that painted his fingers a deep blue-black hue. Absurd articles lined its every corner. Somewhere else, deep below in the Great Sewers of Cytique, scurrying rats ran miniature marathons in search for fleeting scraps of food. Their mother had long passed, being caught by a stray cat from Halei Street. The cat was owned by a red-headed woman, the same that looked down from a balcony across from the fountain down at the city gates and at Ma¡¯at. Her eyes glowed emerald like two jade stones illuminated by a full moon. Young men in overalls and young girls in frilly clothes ran down the sunlit avenues, the street sides lined with canals featuring more flowing water. The water flowed in and out from the grand Lake of Deceit just outside of Reville, its depths fabled to hold treasures beyond imagination. A man in an auburn suit fitted with a black tie and wearing a top hat smoked a cigar by the street corner. A burly man sat on a wooden crate sharpening a massive sword. Office workers typed away on shoddy metal typewriters in a nearby building. Dogs barked. Back at the city gates, a dark-skinned mercenary woman atop an obsidian steed peered across it all, especially the bustling markets dishing out wondrous snacks and sweets, her black hair painted faintly white by the enrapturing sun climbing the world-cloth beyond. A dark speck on an ever-growing flower. Another shiver ran up her spine in tandem with a cool breeze that passed through her.


    She rode through, keeping to the right to avoid oncoming carriages and wagons. Some were pulled by other horses, but others were pulled by creatures that only looked like horses. Some appeared avian, like large ravens with crooked ostrich necks. When stretched out, they looked awfully similar to the rows of black street lights lining most of Reville¡¯s roads. At night, they shone dimly and painted the sleepy city in a nostalgic, almost sad blue.


    She passed the fountain and rode down one of the many streets leading out from the circular central district. Valeigh Street, home of artists and enjoyers of art alike. Shop windows held in them canvases painted with a wide assortment of colors. Forest greens, forlorn blues, striking purples, passionate reds. They stole her sight for a moment, then vanished from view when the building she was searching for finally reared around one of the swerving corners. Another old-style building, its paint slightly chipped and rolling down in vibrant swirls. Brown and gold, like shiny coins placed on a fresh corpse before sending it to its final resting place deep below the lake¡¯s surface.


    Ma¡¯at rode to the building¡¯s street side and hoisted herself off of Deimos¡¯s back. Realizing she didn¡¯t have a rope to tie him there with, she turned to look into the horse¡¯s face with that same commanding, matriarchal gaze she always wore. ¡°Don¡¯t you run off now, alright? Yell if you need help.¡± Horse thieves from the past flashed quickly through her mind like a projector switching slides.


    Deimos didn¡¯t move a single hoof. He leaned down and smelled the cobblestone wet with dew.


    Ma¡¯at looked at him endearingly, then left and took a step up the curb from the busy street. She looked up at a wooden sign dangling from the chipped overhang. Two chains held it in place, though one of them looked badly damaged as if it were about to break and take everything down with it. In bold black serif letters, it read:


    SYGGRAFEAS


    ~Writer Extraordinaire~


    A wave of relief passed over her as she read those words. She finally realized that her journey from Reville to the far reaches and back was finally complete. She could finally reap the rewards she was owed. All she had to do was make it through yet another conversation with the Writer, which did make her somewhat anxious.


    Summoning what resolve was lost with her tiredness, she stepped forward and opened the door to the quaint building. The scent of dry paper was the first thing she sensed as she went to meet with her client.

 Chapter 3: The One-Eyed Writer

    A wizened yet gentlemanly man, caught in the middle of folding his laundry, started and suddenly walked across the dusty room over to his chair wherein he sat. He scribbled something on a piece of paper at his desk, the scrawling noise fine among the crowded interior. He then shifted over to a matte black typewriter. He pressed several keys in quick succession, finishing abruptly. Ma¡¯at couldn¡¯t tell what he had written, but that seemed like a trifle compared to the mountain of works surrounding him in crumpled notes and stacked pages.


    ¡°Ah, well if it isn¡¯t my favorite storyteller!¡± he exclaimed, tilting his head upwards in an erratic motion and nearly falling out of his chair. ¡°How I missed you, Ma¡¯at!¡± The Writer threw up his hands as if to celebrate the coming of some divine miracle. ¡°Just a moment, my dear. Sit there on that comfy seat while you wait. Just need to finish up a couple things and we can talk. Coffee? Tea?¡±


    Just as eccentric as ever, she mused. ¡°No, that¡¯s alright. Do what you must, I¡¯ll wait.¡±


    ¡°Ah, what an angel!¡± He disappeared into a backroom of sorts where his laundry was, then disappeared down another corridor that could not be seen from Ma¡¯at¡¯s position. The rustling of papers could be heard, many papers, which came together to create a sound like waves crashing against a riverbank. A couple times, Ma¡¯at swore she could hear the sound of him tripping and falling over. At last, he returned with a packet of sheets crinkled and torn, tied together through a loop at the top left.


    Ma¡¯at idly tapped her foot and folded her arms, looking around the odd workroom. The Writer¡¯s desk was large and imposing, cut from a dark oak. It reminded her of William and Lucy for an instant. Along the far walls were rows and rows of photographs and paintings framed in gold and silver. Most were landscapes, but some were portraits of people Ma¡¯at didn¡¯t recognize. She took a light breath. The air was stifling and musty, which only made the claustrophobic room feel more tight around her. Dusty rays of luminescence tore through the blinds of the old window behind the Writer, letting in just enough natural light to see what he was doing.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he smacked the packet with the back of one hand in a gesture of finality. He then picked up his quill pen again like a knight taking up his sword. ¡°Sorry about that. Was about to tidy up before you came.¡±


    A white lie. From what Ma¡¯at knew of the man, it would take an invading army for him to finally pack up his things and arrange them in a pleasant fashion. A forgotten duster on his desk told her his claim wasn¡¯t entirely untruthful, however.


    ¡°No need to lie. At this point, seeing this place neat and clean would be¡­ uncomfortable.¡± A wry grin appeared on her face.


    ¡°No need to lie? I¡¯m a writer, dear Ma¡¯at. It¡¯s my job to lie!¡± He straightened his tie and adjusted his monocle. The monocle improved the vision of his right eye, while his left eye was missing entirely. Though, one couldn¡¯t tell at a glance. He simply held it closed at all times. ¡°Well, of course, when it comes to true stories I only have to stretch the truth somewhat.¡± He looked up at Ma¡¯at with a strange expression, perhaps filled with a bit of guilt and embarrassment. ¡°Ah, but almost never for yours, dear. You always bring me the best ones.¡± He smiled.


    Without a word, Ma¡¯at reached into her pouch and lifted up the silvery ring procured from the Gunblades. She reached over the Writer¡¯s desk and set it atop a stack of papers and books in front of him.


    His eye widened and he picked it up without hesitation, inspecting it as a jeweler would inspect a rare gem. His other fingers rose to adjust the magnification of his monocle using a dial on its side. His hawk-eye grew larger and larger as the magnification grew in intensity. ¡°Great job, great job. Perfect.¡± He set it back down on his desk, decreasing the magnification to look upon Ma¡¯at again. ¡°This is it, alright. A Gunblades ring. Did I tell you about the significance of this ring?¡±


    Ma¡¯at shook her head, her scruffy chin-length hair dancing around her in an orbit. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°The Gunblades have a semi-complex hierarchy. It is very familial in its design, like many mobs and gangs, but there is one distinct difference.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Every boss that leads a section of the gang is given one of these,¡± he pointed at the ring with a wrinkled finger. ¡°Do you know what that means?¡±


    Ma¡¯at thought for a moment, her eyes darting elsewhere before returning to peer into the middle-aged man¡¯s glass-shielded iris. ¡°It¡¯s some kind of reward¡­ or symbol for being a leader?¡±


    The Writer shook his finger like a metronome and clicked his tongue. ¡°Not quite. You¡¯re not wrong, but you¡¯re not entirely right either. There¡¯s more to it than that. Leaders in the Gunblades are given access to incriminating information, while goons and the like are not privy to their dealings. Sure, they know the little things, but the bosses are given much, much more trust. Thus, if any of them are captured¡­¡±


    Ma¡¯at grew puzzled, but then realized what he was getting at before he told her himself.


    The Writer picked up the ring and tapped the sigil three times, then pushed it in like a button. The sigil sprang up and outward on a tiny latch, and the ring¡¯s innards were exposed for them both to clearly see. It began ticking, clockwork mechanisms within whirring and growing increasingly louder. ¡°...they have a way out.¡±


    ¡°You mean¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bomb.¡±


    ¡°You mean I¡¯ve been carrying a bomb around with me this entire time!?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the Writer replied calmly.


    ¡°And the city¡­ the soldier let me cut in line just so I could bring a bomb into Reville¡­¡± Ma¡¯at¡¯s right hand rose to her head as she fell into a comfortable blanket of disbelief.


    ¡°If it makes you feel any better, they couldn¡¯t have known anything. Most people don¡¯t know about the rings being suicide bombs. So don¡¯t tell the government, y¡¯hear? It would be really bad for me if the public found out about this from you.¡±


    ¡°Are you insane?¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯at, I¡¯m a writer. Of course I¡¯m insane.¡±


    Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick! Tock!


    ¡°Why is it still open!? Close it!¡± Ma¡¯at reached over in furious desperation and closed the latch on the ring. The ticking of the mechanisms inside quieted to a solemn silence.


    ¡°Oh¡­ whoops. Good catch, girl. That would have been bad,¡± the Writer said, erupting into raucous laughter.


    Ma¡¯at stared at him with a mixture of fear and anger, half of her face stuck in a nervous smile like rigor mortis freezing the face of a tired corpse.


    Coughing awkwardly to diffuse the situation, the Writer put the ring back down on his desk and typed away on his typewriter some more, his fingers jumping along the keys.


    ¡°If¡­ if all of them carry these things and know about them, then why didn¡¯t the one I killed activate it? Could¡¯ve blown me to hell and back and I wouldn¡¯t have had any idea what happened.¡±


    The Writer threw his pointer finger up and his face lit up as if to say ¡®Eureka!¡¯ ¡°Exactly! I was thinking the same thing. Why didn¡¯t he? Maybe he just didn¡¯t have the spine to do it. Fear got the better of him.¡±


    ¡°Or¡­ maybe he just didn¡¯t have enough time. Or he thought he could bargain with me.¡±


    ¡°Hahaha,¡± the Writer laughed dismissively. ¡°I doubt that. His boss would skin him alive if he made a deal with a merc. Literally. They would probably skin him alive for that. No mercy in the Gunblades. No, he must have thought he could convince you to spare him. Then, when your back was turned, he¡¯d kill you.¡±


    ¡°Who knows¡­¡± Ma¡¯at said, her voice trailing off into a whisper. There was no sense dwelling on the thought process of a dead man.


    ¡°That reminds me. Do tell me the story of the job this time, too. I¡¯ll pay more for it, you know that.¡± The strange man clicked the keys some more on his typewriter, his fingers jutting up and down at the side of the polished, wooden desk.


    The Sirithisian woman sighed, putting the hectic events before aside. ¡°I¡¯m not sure why you insist on it. I¡¯m really not very good at this kind of thing.¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Nonsense! You¡¯re magnificent at it. Perhaps it is the unique way in which you recount events that inspires me so. Perhaps you are¡­ my muse.¡±


    ¡°Muse?¡±


    ¡°Yes. My endless font of inspiration! Go on. Tell it. Tell the story and I shall listen. Do not mind the clicking and ka-chinging of the typewriter. Don¡¯t let it distract you.¡±


    Ma¡¯at straightened her back and looked to the side as the past flooded back to her frontal lobe. Memories crawled their way into her neocortex.


    ¡°You may begin,¡± the Writer said, adjusting his monocle.


    ¡°Okay. After a dozen other jobs, four days ago I decided to follow the lead on the recent disturbance on the Reville outskirts. A group of Gunblades were spotted on August 21st, and on August 22nd there were eyewitnesses to them committing a crime.¡±


    ¡°What crime was that?¡±


    ¡°They stole from a family of farmers on the outer reaches. A family of three. Two elderly folks and their adopted child. They murdered the elderly and kidnapped the child. They also stole a wide variety of items ranging from food to a 30-C Girris lever-action rifle.¡±


    The Writer nodded.


    ¡°I then began tracking their movements. Eventually, they realized I was on their tail and attempted to make it back to Reville and re-enter the city before I could find them. They didn¡¯t. I rode in on another horse, which they shot and killed, but not before I sent both of my blades out to them. I cut a leg off of each of their horses, immobilizing them, and began killing all who stood in my way. I came to the last one.¡± Ma¡¯at recounted the rest of the events that led her to the Writer¡¯s office. When she finished, it was clear that her voice was somewhat hoarse and that she was fatigued. She had done more talking than she often did in a week.


    The Writer typed away for several minutes, then spoke. ¡°You said he claimed he was the ¡®head¡¯ of the Gunblades?¡±


    Ma¡¯at nodded.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± the Writer replied, pinching his goateed chin inquisitively. ¡°Maybe he really was trying to bargain with you. The Gunblades¡¯ head is much scarier than any underboss. That must have been what he was, however.¡±


    ¡°An underboss? So he was lying?¡±


    ¡°Seems that way to me. The Gunblades aren¡¯t the brightest in the city, but they surely wouldn¡¯t send their head honcho out with a handful of lackeys all alone. I just can¡¯t see it.¡±


    ¡°You want me to find the true head, then?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ in due time. There are two other things I¡¯m interested in. One is that wondrous fruit you described. Show it to me, please!¡±


    Ma¡¯at relinquished the wobbly liquid-filled fruit to the Writer with an ounce of suspicion in her heart.


    ¡°Shall we eat-¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    The Writer gasped in astonishment and looked at the mercenary as if she had said something horribly uncouth. ¡°And why not!?¡±


    ¡°I already told you. The old man, William, said they have hallucinogenic properties.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And¡­ that¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°Grand. Then shall we-¡±


    Ma¡¯at¡¯s hazel eyes tore into the Writer as if she were a gigantic man-eating beast bent on devouring him limb from limb. ¡°No. I don¡¯t particularly feel like chasing a madman down the street today. Examine it and give it back. Besides, I bought it.¡±


    ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°Just 10 Kin.¡±


    ¡°A bargain, then! All the more to enjoy it while it¡¯s fresh!¡±


    The terrifying expression pushed him back into the realm of the sane yet again. That, and one of Ma¡¯at¡¯s blades slowly levitating from its sheath.


    ¡°Fine, fine. Spoilsport. It is quite marvelous. I wonder¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Well, I just wondered if they were from before or after the Advent. As you know, many strange things like this began sprouting up from the earth after that. It¡¯s certainly strange enough, but I haven¡¯t the foreknowledge to know. My stay in Reville began a year or two afterward, and I rarely leave it.¡±


    The Writer¡¯s curiosity, to Ma¡¯at¡¯s mild annoyance, was quite infectious. For longer than she aimed to, she stared deeply into the swirling colors of the fruit, lost in thought.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± the Writer suddenly said, handing it back to her. She put it back into her sling pouch.


    ¡°And the second?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°What was the second thing you were interested in?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. Forgive me. Age often steals my thoughts away like some kind of psychic pickpocket. I was interested in you, dear Ma¡¯at. How are you feeling?¡±


    Ma¡¯at crossed her arms. ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± The Writer stared into her tan, dark face. Her black hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring in just as it had the night before in front of her campfire. ¡°You seem awfully tired.¡±


    Ma¡¯at sighed deeply, her chest rising and falling, pushing her arms up and down along with it. ¡°Well, yeah. I am. What about it?¡±


    ¡°Imagine yourself in a bleak coldness. If you don¡¯t keep moving, you¡¯ll freeze to death. As I told you before, you deserve a break. And I think perhaps it would benefit you to spend that break among friends.¡±


    ¡°Friends?¡± Ma¡¯at enunciated the word as if she had never heard it before in her entire life. ¡°What friends?¡±


    The Writer didn¡¯t answer her query. He ducked down at his desk, opened a drawer with an iron handle, and took something out of it. He placed it on the table before her. It was a pouch of money. ¡°2,000 Kin for this job, the story, and small things in the past. And for the next. After that, though, I suggest finding a place of respite. Take a load off. You¡¯ve earned it.¡±


    ¡°...Thanks,¡± she replied, looking down and taking the money sheepishly. ¡°Maybe I will. What¡¯s this next job, then? Finding the head, right?¡±


    The Writer nodded with a crooked smile. ¡°My sources tell me he¡¯s in the city right now, as we speak. Here, take this as well.¡± He handed her a strange tool of unknown variety. It was metal and makeshift, seemingly junk when seen with untrained eyes. Small antennae and coils sprouted from its frame like pea pods from soil.


    ¡°What is it¡­?¡±


    ¡°A thingamajig. It¡¯ll help you find your man. Or, at least, their hideout.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­ but what is it, really?¡±


    The Writer rolled his eyes and shook his head lightly. ¡°Young folk these days¡­ no respect for the whimsical. Fine. It¡¯s an Arcane Construct of my own design. Some Technicist crap I found wound together by hopes and dreams. And magic.¡± He grinned devilishly. ¡°I inserted into it my desire to find the Gunblades and their leader. Like I said, it¡¯s a thingamajig.¡±


    Ma¡¯at pocketed the tool, dismissing the Writer¡¯s eccentricity with a simple nod. Despite his urge to call it such a childish name, the item was forged from a skillful intellect. Whether he just wanted to push past the praise his work would garner or not was unknown. It was impressive craftsmanship all the same, especially for someone who wasn¡¯t a trained magus working in a mage¡¯s workshop every day.


    ¡°I have all the faith in the world that you can take care of this, Ma¡¯at. The Gunblades are ruining Reville¡¯s grand economy, and those spying bastards have chosen to do nothing about it¡­¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s nothing. I bid you good luck, girl. See you soon.¡± He waved her goodbye as she rose from her seat.


    ¡°Goodbye, Writer. I¡¯ll be back with good news.¡± Ma¡¯at left the dusty office and opened the hefty wooden door leading back out to the street. Clear, refreshing air flushed her lungs as it swung open. The busy passerby and their idle chatter returned to ring in her ear canals.


    Deimos whinnied at the sight of her, shaking his head in excitement.


    ¡°Sorry, buddy. I¡¯ll have to leave you here a bit longer. If they see you, it could be bad. They might want you back.¡±


    Deimos blew air out of his nostrils. A twinge of sadness pierced Ma¡¯at¡¯s heart as she stared into his dark eyes.


    She patted his snout, then turned her back and walked off further into the labyrinthine streets.


    Zzzzzzzz¡­ brrrrrrrrrr¡­


    Something buzzed and whirred inside her bag. She revealed the Arcane Construct and stared at it much like how an explorer might gaze enigmatically at a newly discovered species. It was terribly unknown and odd to her. She wasn¡¯t quite knowledgeable when it came to technology, especially not magical technology as advanced as it.


    Zzzzzzzz¡­ brrrrrrrrrr¡­ zzzzzzt!


    As she turned her body, the machine emitted a sound that she could only guess was an alert of some kind. Part of her wished that she¡¯d asked the Writer just how the tool worked and how to use it, but it was too late for such a thought anyway. Maybe he was testing her. Testing her to figure it out on her own without his rambling wisdom.


    She turned left and right, and in doing so, the machine grew quieter. She turned to the same direction she had before, and immediately it sounded the same electric hum it had before. A loud alert. Loud to her, anyway. As she looked around to see if anyone else was annoyed by the sound, she realized that no one had turned her way at all. Perhaps they couldn¡¯t even hear it. Ma¡¯at assumed it was just another product of the Writer¡¯s mind; that it was simply infused with his secretive and reclusive nature.


    She followed where it guided her, for she knew it would lead to her goal, and by extension, the Writer¡¯s goal: the Gunblades¡¯ hideout. Like a metal detector sniffing out gold or a sweeper for landmines, the machine whirred and buzzed, leading her deeper and deeper into the less-populated dark avenues of the city. Indigo District, home to criminals and thieves. Far from Reville¡¯s main military eye and the eyes high in the sky leering down at them from the teetering airships above.

 Chapter 4: Gunblades

    The midday sky almost seemed to darken as Ma¡¯at crossed the threshold. The dark, dank alleys of Indigo District weren¡¯t exactly the most pleasant places one could see in the city. The wonderful shops, the string instruments, the smell of grinded coffee beans; they had all vanished.


    In their absence, pawn shops and obvious fronts lined the crowded routes hoisted in tents or built into the walls surrounding them. The pleasant music was gone entirely save for an elderly person or two breathing hoarsely through silver harmonicas. And the smell. The smell, if it wasn¡¯t being blocked out by pipe smoke, was indescribable at best. But there was a great deal of smoke billowing from pipes held by people of all ages and races. It swirled in bluish purple plumes. If Ma¡¯at couldn¡¯t avoid breathing it in, she felt it. It was intoxicating indeed. It settled even the most jagged, edged nerves. Settled them into a tranquil lake sat underneath a veil of violet mist.


    ¡°Some Tranquility, lady?¡± A man at the side holding a black, ornate pipe held it out to her. The same mesmerizing smoke grew upward from its end like some ancient plant.


    Ma¡¯at looked at him at first with annoyance, then relaxed as she realized he was simply being kind. At least, it seemed that way. Maybe he was just trying to get another buyer addicted to the stuff. ¡°No, thanks. If I wanted a good night¡¯s rest, I wouldn¡¯t be a merc.¡± She gave him a faint, wry grin.


    ¡°Heh! You¡¯re a funny one. How ¡®bout me and you-¡±


    There it was. All shades of kindness led back to selfishness in the end. Ma¡¯at held up a palm dismissively. ¡°I¡¯m busy. Looking for a hideout. If you can tell me where I might find,¡± she leaned in close and drew her voice into a fine whisper, ¡°the Gunblades, I could pay you. Anything at all?¡±


    The man scratched his bristly chin and coughed, colorful vapor escaping his throat briefly. ¡°Yeah? And what¡¯s it to you, merc? Who¡¯s your handler?¡± Rejection had angered the man somewhat, but he hid it beneath a mask of Indigo comradery. ¡°Real gutsy asking about them. What if the Nye Inkorpt are listening in, eh? Ya think of that, lady?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care. And I don¡¯t think they¡¯re interested in some goons like them. If you won¡¯t give me any info, I¡¯ve got my own ways. I¡¯ll find them regardless.¡±


    He glanced at her twin blades, then at the ground, then at her face. Beautiful¡­ and terrifying, he thought. He sighed, pushing off the veneer of coldness he¡¯d donned and coming back to himself. ¡°Fine, fine. Don¡¯t know much, but I know they¡¯ve got a guy on their side named Cloak. Bad guy. Think he¡¯s a merc. Heard he works for some shady companies, but I don¡¯t know which rumors are true and which ain¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Rumors?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well¡­ one says he works for Inkorpt. Another says he works for Vroque. But I can¡¯t believe either of those. The Nye Inkorpt uses and tosses away mercs like dirty rags. And Vroque¡­ Vroque is too¡­ normal for that, I guess?¡±


    ¡°Normal?¡±


    ¡°You know Vroque, yeah? Everyone there is a nutcase, but what they actually do isn¡¯t all that shady. They wouldn¡¯t want a guy like Cloak. I mean, I heard the guy fought in the Relic War. He¡¯s gotta be out of his mind.¡±


    Ma¡¯at narrowed her gaze. ¡°Really? You think everyone who fought is crazy, huh?¡±


    The man took a long drag from his pipe, turned his head, and breathed out purple fumes into the surrounding air. ¡°¡®Course. You can¡¯t even talk about specifics about the war without an official breathing down your neck. Talk about shady. Everything about the war is shady.¡±


    Ma¡¯at rested a hand on her right blade. She fell into silent contemplation for a few seconds. ¡°Yeah¡­ you¡¯re not wrong about that.¡±


    He looked at her wearily, as if he were trying to approach some wild animal. ¡°I¡¯m Grin, by the way. Freelance merc on the side. Though I haven¡¯t finished a job in a while.¡±


    ¡°Grin, huh? Interesting name.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah. Nevermind it. It¡¯s a sad story. So why are you trying to find these guys, miss¡­?¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯at. And that¡¯s none of your business.¡±


    ¡°Right, right. Sorry. Well, that¡¯s about all I know. Sorry about¡­ well, you know. Just getting tired of people coming to Indigo for answers all the time. These people have enough on their plates.¡±


    Ma¡¯at cast a sideways glance at the beggars and the slumped, Tranq-addicted folk. She turned back to Grin and flipped a coin she¡¯d brought out of her pack at him. He caught it easily. ¡°That¡¯s for the info. If I were you, I¡¯d use it to do merc-work on the regular. Better than peddling Tranquility.¡±


    Grin studied the coin carefully, then bit into it with his molars to test its authenticity. ¡°Thanks, lady. I¡¯ll think about it. I realize it¡¯s a bit hypocritical to care about the same people I¡¯m gettin¡¯ hooked on this stuff, but¡­ what are you gonna do? I¡¯ve gotta make ends meet somehow.¡± He smirked sadly, taking another puff from his pipe. ¡°Good luck with your hunt, Ma¡¯at.¡± He chuckled to himself and left through a dark, narrow alleyway.


    She traced his walk through the alley with her eyes until he disappeared behind a bastion of dirty, cracked walls.


    Zzzzzzzzt! Zzzzzzzzt! Zzzzzzzzt!


    ¡°Ack!¡± Ma¡¯at shot up in surprise and cried out uncharacteristically. She took out the Arcane Construct the Writer had given her once again. It was making an ungodly racket. ¡°Asophi¡­ this thing never stops.¡± Upon inspection of the tool and her surroundings, she realized she had finally gotten close enough. The alleys led to the main street, much like the nicer alleys did, but this one was much dirtier. Gang members cracked their knuckles and eyed the Sirithisian merc with a mixture of suspicion and antagonization as she passed through.


    As she neared a blocky, abandoned warehouse, the tool suddenly stopped. It began melting into a black, viscous goo that slowly dripped through Ma¡¯at¡¯s fingers and landed on the ground. With each passing moment, it grew translucent and seemed to fade from existence.


    She was about to complain about its odd way of signaling that she¡¯d found the right place when a party of people came bumbling out of the back door. She ducked behind the nearest corner and cocked her head to listen in on them.


    A young girl wearing a black suit extended her arms outward as if to catch something. She breathed in and let out a heavy breath. ¡°Pwaaa~ See? Isn¡¯t it nice?¡±


    ¡°What, going out for a smoke?¡± A burly man, also wearing a suit, slung a unique firearm over his shoulder. It was long-barreled and featured a slim, silver edge along its bottom. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out what faction the grunts belonged to.


    ¡°No, no! The afternoon air! Ain¡¯t it refreshing? Can¡¯t stand being cooped up in there with that grumpy asshole.¡±


    ¡°Come on, he¡¯s not that bad. He might not have the cleanest vocabulary, but at least he tells it to you straight up. Lotta sneaky fucks don¡¯t think twice about lyin¡¯ or stabbin¡¯ you in the back. Cloak ain¡¯t like that at least.¡± A younger man with long, black hair began putting strange flower petals into the end of his pipe and lighting it.


    ¡°Shut the hell up, Duco. He wouldn¡¯t want you yapping about him this loudly. I doubt you¡¯d like him when that rifle of his is ten feet up your ass.¡±


    ¡°Yeah! Shut up, Duco!¡± the woman yelled and erupted into laughter. Her hair was long and tied into braids at the sides. It was a purplish color which matched her crazed eyes.


    ¡°You too, Kalaya. You have a death wish?¡±


    ¡°Is that a serious question?¡±


    ¡°Rhetorical, really. Just testing if you¡¯re as dumb as you sound. And look.¡±


    ¡°Yeah!? I¡¯ll kill ya right here, dumbass. I¡¯ve killed twenty o¡¯ guys just like you, bitch. I¡¯ll rip you apart! I¡¯ll skin you alive! I¡¯ll-¡±


    ¡°What? You¡¯ll what!?¡±


    ¡°Shut up. Look over there.¡± The mad woman pointed toward a figure approaching them.


    ¡°A dark-skin,¡± Duco said. ¡°What¡¯cha doin¡¯ out here, huh?¡±


    Ma¡¯at continued to approach them silently. She moved both arms up and unsheathed her blades. They slid smoothly up through the metal and leather until they were fully exposed to her enemies. Then, she flipped both of them upward in a fluid motion and caught them mid-air so that both blade-ends were facing the right direction.


    ¡°You should walk away. You don¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°Cram it, Duco.¡± The burly man lowered his gunblade and checked its revolving chamber. It was fully loaded, as he expected. He flicked it to the side again, the chamber neatly clicking back into place.


    ¡°What? Just some third-rate merc trying-¡±


    ¡°She ain¡¯t third-rate,¡± Kalaya snapped. ¡°Remember the group they sent out that was bein¡¯ tracked?¡± With every word, the woman¡¯s fang-like teeth gleamed in the shadow of the old warehouse. Two small sharp horns jutted out of her head, a trait intrinsically linked with that of the demonite race.


    ¡°Sure. What about ¡®em?¡± The man continued to smoke his Tranquility without a care in the world, as if the mercenary out for their blood was no more than some pissant challenging a god such as him.


    ¡°That¡¯s the bitch that got ¡®em,¡± Kalaya continued, her voice entangled in a violent mixture of confidence and fear. ¡°Her name¡¯s¡­ Matt¡­ or Marmalade¡­ or somethin¡¯...¡±


    Ma¡¯at stared at them in utter fascination. It was awe-inspiring just how miraculously stupid these people were. ¡°It¡¯s Ma¡¯at.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it, chumps. I can handle her. Y¡¯all just stand back and let ol¡¯ Duco handle it, as per usual.¡± The neatly-dressed, narcissistic man spun his gunblade around and around his right pointer finger like some legendary desperado.


    ¡°Woah!¡± Kalaya yelped. ¡°Where¡¯d you learn to do that, Duco!?¡±


    ¡°Shut up. Not telling. Gotta focus.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯d you never teach me, huh!? You can actually do somethin¡¯ that cool and you never taught me? The hell¡¯s the matter with you, Duco!? I thought we were friends!¡±


    The man didn¡¯t answer her. He continued to spin the gunblade around his finger at a blistering, rapid pace. The pipe in his mouth sizzled and let out a small stream of violet smoke as he did so.


    ¡°You,¡± Ma¡¯at said while pointing at the burly man with one of her swords. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it to you!?¡± The man raised his weapon up and near his head much like how a duelist might prepare before shooting a perfect shot through his opponent¡¯s skull. Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°I usually like to know people¡¯s names before I kill them.¡±


    The burly man chuckled dryly. ¡°Alright, lady. You got spunk, I¡¯ll give you that. I¡¯m Luthe. I ain¡¯t gonna ask any questions. You¡¯re after us. That¡¯s all that matters, right?¡±


    Ma¡¯at was relieved that at least one of them was capable of having a discussion, no matter how trivial it was. She stood about ten feet away, waiting for them to make the first move.


    ¡°On the defensive, eh? That¡¯s a mistake, dark-skin.¡± The human known as Duco narrowed his gaze. Time seemed to slow. Everything unimportant to his muscle memory faded away into the back of his muddled subconscious. All he could see through the tearing, white reality his mind had constructed for him was the mercenary woman in front of him with her twin blades at the ready. His pupils shrunk to two fine points in his ocular nerves. The spinning stopped.


    Blam!


    A gunshot rang out, the noise traveling across the old buildings and throughout the avenues of Indigo District.


    Pale smoke wafted out from Duco¡¯s handcannon and danced in the air, merging with the mesmerizing smoke leaking from the pipe haphazardly dangling from his lips.


    ¡°Did ya get her!?¡± Kalaya asked as she peered into the swirling miasma.


    The lone woman held one blade up, as if to deflect something. The moment had already passed.


    ¡°No¡­ ain¡¯t no way you deflected that, lady. Bullshit. What¡¯d you do, huh!? Huh!?¡± Anger visibly grew on Duco¡¯s face, filling his bulging veins like blood clots. His pride was being tested.


    ¡°I deflected it,¡± Ma¡¯at replied simply. ¡°All those gun tricks do nothing but distract you more than they distract me.¡±


    ¡°Grrgh¡­ I¡¯ll¡­¡± Duco sputtered with rage.


    ¡°Hold on, Duco. Somethin¡¯ ain¡¯t right,¡± Luthe said. ¡°She¡¯s only holdin¡¯ one blade.¡±


    ¡°Eh? You¡¯re right. Where¡¯d you put the other one, huh? Show it to us. Or do you really think you can kill us with just one of those rusty swords!? Huh!? Talk, bitch! Show us where it-¡±


    A sound, like a whistle or maybe a violin being played ever so quietly, entered their ears. Then, a serrated noctite blade entered Duco¡¯s ears. It had flown around the entire building as if being pulled by some extremely durable, unseen thread. It whirled around the warehouse and slashed in a forward motion toward the gunman like the scythe of a grim reaper. His head was cut cleanly in half horizontally. The top fell, then the rest of his body followed.


    ¡°Holy shit!¡± Luthe cried. He stared in blind disbelief for just a moment, then turned and readied his gun.


    What he hadn¡¯t noticed, though, was that the serrated blade hadn¡¯t been thrown. It was being controlled. A small blue gem on the bottom of each of her blade¡¯s hilts had been created especially for her. There was once a time when Ma¡¯at had thought she had no magical ability at all. It turned out that she did, although it was very specific and a niche case at best. However, when her power was linked so firmly with an object, she could manipulate it just as fluidly and quickly as she could one of her own arms. Each noctite blade was a solid part of her, like two phantom limbs.


    The blade sat idly in the air as Luthe aimed his gun at Ma¡¯at. Still, he hadn¡¯t noticed. The blue gem on its hilt gleamed in the shady afternoon light, then it flew forward with the speed of a bullet.


    ¡°Arrrrgh!¡± The blade passed straight through the man¡¯s right arm, suit and flesh, slicing it to the bone. His arm dangled lifelessly by the last remaining tendons. With every movement, searing white pain streaked up his arm and torched his mind. He screamed uncontrollably.


    ¡°You! You whore! I¡¯ll kill ya for that!!!¡± Kalaya screamed wrathfully and ran straight at the merc. She slashed at her, but in a unique way of fighting with such a weapon. As she made the slice, she also shot the gun in the instant it was aimed at her foe. Ma¡¯at barely deflected it and cursed herself for underestimating her enemies, even for a moment.


    Luthe fought through the pain and pulled the trigger on his gunblade four times. Four silver bullets were cast toward the Sirithisian mercenary.


    Ma¡¯at held out the blade in her hand and tipped it to one side. The azure gem glowed brilliantly. The sword began picking up speed at a miraculous rate, spinning and spinning just as Duco had spun his gun in an act of showmanship. However, Ma¡¯at was not a show-off nor was she anything close to a narcissist. The ever-spinning blade acted as a razor-sharp shield of black steel, easily destroying all four of Luthe¡¯s bullets as they attempted to pass through and injure its mistress.


    ¡°For Duco!¡± Kalaya, not noticing the futility of the action, fan-fired all of her remaining bullets at Ma¡¯at to no avail. Each and every one exploded from her gunblade only to be launched straight into her enemy¡¯s revolving shield. They were cut into metal ribbons and scrap that littered the bloody street corner.


    Ma¡¯at stopped her blade, caught it, and kicked Kalaya with all her weight. With a cracked whimper, the demonite girl fell to the ground hard.


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ Duco¡­¡± Luthe stumbled forward, the gun in his hand loosening in his grip. A seemingly endless stream of blood cascaded down his mutilated arm and onto the ground in a sickening mess.


    The blade that penetrated his arm was hanging above him now, preparing to deliver the blow that would put an end to his misery.


    Ma¡¯at stared at them both with an absent expression, free from any guilt a common citizen would feel in that moment. It was just a job, after all. And it was time to finish it. She called for the levitating blade to kill Luthe and for the one in her hand to launch forward into Kalaya, who was still heaving on the ground.


    But no sooner had the thoughts entered her mind that they escaped her entirely. She felt a painful bump on the back of her skull, then the ground, then the world and her consciousness falling into darkness.


    ***


    Voices in the dark spoke to her from beyond the shadows. Hushed whispers. People talking from a very far distance. Was it¡­ a dream? Her imagination?


    ¡°Ma¡¯at. Wake up, Ma¡¯at. You¡¯re in trouble now. What did I tell you? You¡¯ll die if you keep this up. Even you know that. One more job. One more tired blood-filled job, and it will all be over, right? That¡¯s what you¡¯ve been saying for years. I couldn¡¯t watch you suffer anymore. How do you do it, from where you are? How do you watch from behind those eyelids of yours? Please, find something new. Search. Seek. Explore and learn this world before your time is cut short.¡±


    ¡°Who¡­? Is that¡­? No, it can¡¯t be. This is just my imagination.¡±


    ¡°It is me, but I¡¯m not there. And I will never be there. You have to come find me, Ma¡¯at. Otherwise, you¡¯ll be stuck in this limbo for the rest of your life.¡±


    Firelight illuminated the void, dotting it with thousands of brilliant stars.


    ¡°Find people. People who care. Care for them and help them. Then, eventually, you¡¯ll find me.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t understand¡­¡±


    ¡°You will. Like all things, it must be given time.¡±


    The stars began to fade, one by one. Until only one was left. The last light in the dark expanse. Then, it too danced into ash and faded into darkness. It was time to wake up.


    ***


    Water splashed across Ma¡¯at¡¯s face, the downpour tearing her from primordial sleep. Something restricted her movement and locked her limbs. She was tied tightly to an excruciatingly uncomfortable chair in the middle of a large, open room. The black night sky could be seen through open windows high near the rafters. Moonlight poured in, painting her and others in the room in a solemn, white shade.


    ¡°So this is her. The Swordstress of Ironside. Hmph. That¡¯s an old tale.¡± A hoarse, raspy voice came from a tall man in front of her. He wore a long, dark brown cloak that whirled around his neck and draped down like a mantle from his shoulders and back down to his feet. His arms were loosely crossed. He had a squarish, edged face with strong features. Deep wrinkles sunk his skin to the bone of his skull, though he didn¡¯t look famished in any way. He was muscular, but more lean than anything. He had a bristly, gray beard that grew no longer than an inch. Bandoliers could barely be seen underneath the cloak. They held dozens and dozens of silver bullets for the rifle that sat upon his back in a leather scabbard.


    Ma¡¯at immediately recognized it as a 30-C Girris lever-action rifle, the very same kind the Gunblades had stolen a few days back. Had they made a trade-off without her knowledge? Or was it simply a coincidence? It didn¡¯t really matter either way. She scanned the room once more, gauging her location. About a hundred, maybe two hundred large wooden crates lined the interior around her and her captors. She gathered that they hadn¡¯t taken her very far. It was the very same warehouse that she had killed Duco outside of. The Gunblades¡¯ hideout.


    ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve got a lot on your mind, Ma¡¯at. So much so that a loudmouth like me was able to knock you upside the head with this ol¡¯ baby. I¡¯m a bit disappointed, really. I¡¯d heard about the Swordstress when I used to do freelance work across the wastes. I always wanted to fight her, one on one. But, well, we don¡¯t really have time to mess around right now.¡±


    Ma¡¯at coughed and cleared her throat, then shook off the droplets of water clinging to her hair. ¡°Cloak, I assume?¡±


    The side of the gruff man¡¯s mouth upturned into a small half-grin. It was genuine. ¡°Heh. You know, for a sorry-ass merc doing work for that idiot of a writer, you¡¯re more of a detective than anything. You should be an investigator for the Nye Inkorpt. I¡¯ve heard they pay real well.¡± He chuckled lightly to himself.


    ¡°How long are you gonna take to slit her throat!? She killed Duco!¡± Kalaya walked out of the shadows into the moonlight. Her hair looked like a bluish gray in it rather than its normal nightshade tinge.


    Cloak turned his head to his colleague and launched a fist into her face, knocking her flat on the concrete floor. ¡°Shut the fuck up, demonite. I told you to wait.¡± He sighed while rubbing his shoulder, then turned back to his captive. It appeared as though he had a totally different demeanor when talking to those he respected. ¡°You won¡¯t find the boss of the Gunblades here. Not even I know where he is. He¡¯s a shitty leader, but he sure knows how to disappear when things get bad.¡±


    Ma¡¯at looked at the nameless members resting in the back. Two were sitting on a large crate. When she looked at it, she felt a sort of crushing sensation, as though something extremely heavy was pressing down on her arms.


    ¡°Sorry, Ma¡¯at. Couldn¡¯t take any chances. That big box there and those idiots sitting on it are on top of your blades.¡± He scratched the side of his face. ¡°Beautiful swords once you get a better look at them. Enchanted black steel. Noctite, right? Where¡¯d you get ¡®em?¡±


    Ma¡¯at¡¯s vision wavered to another corner where the man she¡¯d injured was sleeping on a bedroll. Or, perhaps he was in a coma. A person near him had wrapped the severed portion of his arm and was casting a small spell on it that emanated a faded, green light. ¡°Friend of mine gave them to me. So, what¡¯s the game here, Cloak? Are you going to kill me or are we just going to talk until the sun comes up?¡±


    A displeased look wiped the small smile he¡¯d had away. He adjusted his belt and the bandoliers above it. He knelt down to her and his voice hushed into a whisper. ¡°Well¡­ that job offer wasn¡¯t entirely a joke. I¡¯m technically a Nye Inkorpt agent. They don¡¯t know I do this stuff on the side, but I know their tricks. And you can bet they never see me on those shitty Technicist drones.¡± He glanced around to make sure none of the Gunblades could hear. ¡°Work with me. Forget about that one-eyed freak. Wouldn¡¯t even have to be with the Inkorpt. We could work as a two-man office. What do you say?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say you¡¯ve made a lot of enemies. And you¡¯ll make even more, letting me go.¡±


    ¡°Hmph. Oh, Ma¡¯at. Anyone that ever dares to harm you will be dead the moment the thought even enters their mind. I can protect you. I¡¯ve killed more men in a day than you ever have.¡±


    Ma¡¯at stared into Cloak¡¯s deepset, black eyes. ¡°I can assure you¡­ that¡¯s not true.¡±


    His face scrunched up, his edged features losing their weight for a moment. ¡°Maybe so. But it still stands. Let me help you, and we can make a good team. Mercenary work is as lucrative as it¡¯s ever been. We could go to the far west. Altruin and New Aza are attacked by horrifying shit all the time. We could make a name for ourselves.¡±


    ¡°Cloak! I¡¯m gettin¡¯ real tired of this! Just bash her brains in already! We¡¯re lucky the Inkorpt didn¡¯t hear our shots earlier. We¡¯ve gotta get outta here!¡± Kalaya complained from the floor. She was tenderly rubbing her bruised face.


    ¡°She¡¯s right. Better if they find the hideout without us than with us!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, true.¡±


    ¡°Somebody¡¯s gotta carry Luthe, though.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll carry ¡®em. Start packing up whatever you can.¡±


    Anger boiled up inside Cloak in an instant, and he turned around with fury in his eyes, ten times the amount that he held for Kalaya. ¡°Shut the fuck up and don¡¯t move! All of you! Unless you want me to report to the boss that his underlings haven¡¯t been following my orders. Unless you WANT to be skinned alive, crippled, and hanging from a lightpost, I suggest you stop moving right fucking now!¡±


    A hush came across the warehouse. Even Kalaya had gone totally silent.


    ¡°We¡¯ll pack up and go when I give the word. Now¡­¡±


    It was at that moment that Ma¡¯at peered up again at the moonlit windows. The full moon was in view, and in front of it was a truly beautiful woman dressed in strange attire. Despite there not being a single cloud in the sky nor a droplet of rain otherwise, she wore a black raincoat. In her hands she held an umbrella of the same color, its top extended and puffed out like the tailfeathers of a peacock. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡±


    Cloak looked at her, muddled in confusion. He traced her sight to the windows, and there he saw the same silhouette as well. The mysterious woman took a tiny step onto the metallic windowsill, then jumped and landed in the middle of the room beside Ma¡¯at and the rifleman. ¡°Who the hell are you!?¡±


    The woman peered down at Ma¡¯at from beneath her shimmering umbrella, then at Cloak with a posed look. ¡°I am Sato, Maiden of the Rain. I have come to collect this warrioress and unleash a deluge of rainwater and pain across this building. I¡¯ve come to eliminate you all, here and now.¡±

 Chapter 5: Maiden of the Rain

    ¡°What is this shit? Who hired you!?¡± Cloak was quickly becoming furious, rage revealing the valleys of veins in his forehead. His arm instinctively rose toward his back to fetch the rifle from its scabbard.


    The self-introduced woman laughed lightly as if Cloak had said something funny. ¡°I shall never reveal that information, for it is impertinent that this act remains a secret. Tien told me, ¡®Now, Sato, remember never to tell anyone who you work for!¡¯ Haha. I am no simpleton. My affiliation with Vroque Company and¡­ Ah. Whoops.¡± She stared blankly past the rifleman as if to mentally escape the situation.


    Cloak eyed her with a cocked eyebrow, his arm frozen in mid-air. ¡°Vroque. Hmph. ¡®Course. Well¡­ Sato, was it? You really think you can take down twenty armed men all by yourself?¡±


    The rest of the Gunblades checked and loaded their weapons. The small metallic clinking of silver ammunition being inserted into their respective revolving chambers echoed twenty-fold throughout the warehouse. Some of them who had been sitting on various wooden crates all this time launched to the ground and readied themselves for the coming altercation.


    ¡°With my eyes closed,¡± Sato replied.


    The gruff man grinned, likely eager for some action after so long. In one swift motion, he pulled his rifle down from his back and aimed it straight at the umbrella-wielding woman.


    And wield it she did, as a weapon, for the end of the umbrella after the open plume came to a sudden and deadly sharp point made for piercing and slashing. She could not cut a bullet in flight, however. What she could do, and did do, was swing the open umbrella in a circle around herself, almost in a dance. As she did, water formed. As though created through some bizarre alchemical nonsense, torrential clear water came into being through her circular motion. It spiraled around and around her until she came to a stop, then she closed the umbrella and pointed its end at the rifleman who was already pulling the trigger. The flood expanded all at once, rolling in vicious waves that consumed the other Gunblades in its wake and pulled at Cloak, ruining his precise aim.


    ¡°Wha- grglrgl¡­¡± Kalaya had opened her mouth to complain and exclaim, but water silenced her and threw her and her comrades against the outer wall and into the large wooden crates, breaking them apart into hundreds of jagged splinters. Stolen supplies such as food and medicine lined their revealed innards, as well as contraband consisting of purple flowers and other drug-related paraphernalia.


    Sato stood triumphantly, slashing her umbrella blade to the side. Rainwater flung off of its onyx sheen and plopped into puddles that littered the now-desecrated warehouse.


    ¡°Clever, girly. That some kind of pre-war relic?¡± Cloak asked as if he were truly interested, when in reality he simply wanted to buy himself time to think and observe his surroundings. His steely eyes grew dark. ¡°No. That¡¯s true magic, ain¡¯t it? You¡¯re a witch.¡±


    ¡°I am no long-nosed hag, Gunblade. I¡¯m simply a mage who has spent much of her time in these tight, stifling alleyways.¡± Though Sato threw him a small smile, a glimmer of sadness seemed to permeate her words. ¡°No matter. I am a merciful mage, and a merciful woman. Leave this one to me and I shall spare you all. Vroque cares not for gun-toting gangs. The Inkorpt can deal with your lot.¡±


    ¡°Heh. I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t do that.¡± The rugged acting-underboss of the Gunblades glanced at his subordinates. They were slowly recovering, climbing back to their feet. The comatose man known as Luthe had nearly drowned in the Maiden¡¯s deluge, yet he still clung to life.


    ¡°And what do the Gunblades want with this mercenary in particular, hm?¡± Sato walked in front of Ma¡¯at, who was still tightly tied to the chair.


    Looking up close, she spotted a black tattoo of a fluttering butterfly on Sato¡¯s neck. Below that was the hood of her raincoat, and above it was her jet-black hair tied in a medium-length ponytail.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s more of a¡­ personal interest. Though, I don¡¯t doubt I¡¯d be handsomely rewarded if I brought her to the boss. Either way, she¡¯s valuable. Why does Vroque want her, eh? I thought all you crazy bastards cared about were treasure maps and contracts.¡±


    Sato stayed silent for a bit, almost like she was remembering something. She nodded along to a thought in her head that went unheard to the others in the room. ¡°Yes, well¡­ that¡¯s classified. If I reveal any more than I already have, a certain someone will be very, very angry with me.¡±


    Cloak, visibly confused, contemplated then deflated. ¡°Oh, well. That just leaves one option, the ultimate deciding factor when two factions are left at an impasse.¡± Cloak quickly loaded his rifle. His hands moved with pure muscle memory, unhindered by any intrusive thought or hesitation. ¡°To kill each other and see who¡¯s left standing.¡±


    Sensing the man¡¯s malicious intent, Sato turned on her heel and slashed across Ma¡¯at¡¯s seated form. Then, she turned back around and opened her umbrella.


    ¡°Fire!¡± Cloak ordered. As he did, he himself pulled the trigger on his 30-C Girris rifle. A melting orb of white smoke exploded from its barrel, and a silver bullet cast from its firing mechanism launched at Sato with considerable speed. She couldn¡¯t evade it in time.


    But she didn¡¯t have to. She swung the opened umbrella up to act as a shield against the oncoming projectile. As if the sleek, rain-wet weapon were made out of impenetrable metal, the bullet struck dead and bounced off, deflected.


    The Gunblades who had recovered already had their sights trained on the mage. In a white haze created by a dozen pistols firing at once, an equal amount of bullets were sent Sato¡¯s way. The same result. They all flung off, unable to pass through her umbrella shield and pierce her mortal body. Dented, dead bullets fell to the ground in front of her in a pale rain.


    Though, she had realized a little too late something vitally important. After the initial shot, Cloak and Kalaya were nowhere to be seen amongst the chaos of smoke and gunpowder. At the corner of her eye, jutted horns crept from crate to crate in order to flank her two adversaries.


    Ma¡¯at realized the same, though she also perceived a strange shimmering image rushing through the warehouse on the other side of them, opposite to Kalaya¡¯s vantage point.


    Ma¡¯at launched from the chair, kicking it backward into a dirty puddle. She turned around and ran toward the strange, illusory mass as if her life depended upon it. She heard a click.


    Blam!


    Out of thin air, another plume of white smoke let out. The invisible thing had shot.


    Ma¡¯at did not stop. She rushed the thing with all her strength and tackled it to the ground, fighting it. They wrestled, launching punches at one another until the thing seemed to kick Ma¡¯at off. But she¡¯d grabbed hold of something tactile. Cloth that reflected zero light. She fell to the right side, holding the strange, invisible item in her hand.


    The shimmering image faltered, and there, climbing to his feet with rifle in tow, was Cloak. The cloth revealed itself in the Sirithisian¡¯s hand to be his worn mantle.


    ¡°Saw me, huh? Knew I needed a better one. Without your blades, though, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re outmatched Swordstress.¡± Cloak aimed his rifle steadily at Ma¡¯at, cocking it.


    There was nowhere to go. If she got up and ran, he could simply adjust his aim slightly and ram another one of his silver bullets into her leg. A sharp, streaking pain rattled her. She felt blood leaking out of her body. Seemed he had already met his mark with the previous one. She didn¡¯t have a choice after all. There was little to no chance she could pull herself up without faltering for even a second. And a second would be far too late. A second would send a bullet straight through her other leg. Or worse, should the rifleman decide her life would come to an end this day and not one far into the future. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    As if to wash away the fear seeping into her beating heart, another rolling wave toppled Cloak over before he had the chance to shoot.


    Sato glanced back at Ma¡¯at with a meaningful gaze, her eyes a gorgeous violet. Then, she turned and sent the torrential water over toward the various crates on the other side of the room. Gunblades were swept up in the water once again, and the larger crates in the back were sent flying into others.


    Choking sounds came from Ma¡¯at¡¯s left. Cloak struggled to gather himself and gather air into his lungs, for they were full of liquid. ¡°Son of a¡­¡± He stopped mid-insult and wheezed.


    But with the rising tide, with the deluge Sato could continuously summon forth, the mercenary woman felt her phantom limbs grow lighter. The water had toppled the heavy boxes crushing her noctite blades, releasing them just as she was unbound by Sato¡¯s sharpened umbrella.


    ¡°Not so fast.¡± Another crushing feeling assaulted Ma¡¯at¡¯s nerves. Cloak¡¯s heel pressed firmly against her arm, grinding it down into the floor. ¡°You¡¯re my bounty. I ain¡¯t gonna let this fancy bitch steal you from me.¡±


    A black object carried itself out of the settling water and whizzed past the Maiden of the Rain¡¯s head. It flew across the room in an arc and slashed at Cloak¡¯s ankle, carving a shallow gash in it. He screamed in pain, grabbed his leg, and fell over.


    Ma¡¯at, freed and armed, called for her other blade as well. She caught it deftly as it careened toward her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let them escape!¡± Sato warned.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t planning on it.¡±


    Sensing his imminent execution, Cloak swallowed the pain screaming from his wound and dredged up his rifle from a nearby puddle. Though, he didn¡¯t have time to take aim. As a man who had been in a great deal of life-threatening situations and battles, he knew when to stand his ground and when to retreat. This was the latter, no question. And he knew his peons would have his back one way or another. At least, he hoped so. There was that little bit of fear that they would turn tail and desert their acting-underboss, but his confidence wouldn¡¯t allow it to surface. He simply had to act, fear or not.


    Ma¡¯at spotted Cloak running past her toward the exit and readied herself to cast a blade into his torso, but as she extended her arm, it was stopped by a sudden clash.


    Kalaya had met her weapon with her gunblade. The metal screeched as they fought against one another. Ma¡¯at¡¯s strength would prevail, but the demonite girl had succeeded in what she was trying to do. Her boss had successfully gotten away, rifle and all, without facing the consequences of his selfishness.


    The rest of the Gunblades had given up on fighting a ranged fight. They charged forward through the clear-turned-murky water and slashed at Sato with the same mid-strike gunshot technique Kalaya had tried to use on Ma¡¯at hours earlier.


    Sato, ever graceful, was just as so in close combat. It was mesmerizing, so much so that it distracted Ma¡¯at from her own fight for a moment. She would close the umbrella to use as a blade, then break their stance and go in for the kill. But how she would dispatch them was wholly unique. She¡¯d impale them with the end of her umbrella, then open it forcefully, unleashing a wave of water from within her enemy, blowing apart their innards and rendering them lifeless.


    The only surviving Gunblades had no recourse. They all ran and surrounded her, ready to pierce and blast her apart.


    The Maiden danced in a small circle, creating a nebulous field of rainwater around her in a donut shape, then raised her weapon high above her head. With another forceful opening of the black plume, the water tightened into a blade of water that was sent outward from her at a truly horrific speed. It was like an ultra-sharp sawblade extending out from her form, and as it was, the remaining Gunblades that could stand could no longer. They were all separated at the waist, cut in half and left to sink into the knee-deep waters that had filled the warehouse.


    ¡°Damn you¡­! You killed Duco!¡± Kalaya swung mightily at Ma¡¯at, who was on the defensive.


    Normally she would be able to defeat the suited woman easily, but the hole bored through her thigh did not do wonders for her fighting spirit. Her body wavered, and she stumbled over herself more times than she¡¯d like to admit. Blood drained from her body. She felt frail, but she could not allow herself to be beaten by some random Indigo gangster that cared for nothing but money and violence.


    As Kalaya knocked her adversary down and slashed one blade from her hand, she saw her opening. The girl¡¯s eyes widened, and she drew back her blade for a single attack. She was aiming for her heart. A quick, clean kill. Her only chance.


    The ever-spinning blade, as the planet revolves around the sun. She¡¯d fallen for the same trick again. Right as her piercing attack sent her gunblade straight at Ma¡¯at¡¯s chest, the noctite sword in her enemy¡¯s other hand levitated and swung in fourteen circles like a desk fan. It easily deflected the weapon. Ma¡¯at kicked the girl down and got back to her feet. Her limbs ached. Her body would not allow her to carry on much longer without fainting from anemia. She called back her other blade and put them to the young woman¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Wait¡­! Please¡­!¡±


    ¡°Wait? Would you have waited for us?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ doing my-¡±


    ¡°Doing your job. Right. So am I¡­¡±


    ¡°Hold on.¡± A voice came from behind her. A hand fell on her left shoulder and the pleasant voice, belonging to the lady Sato, fell upon her fading mind. ¡°She¡¯s no threat now. All who could fight have fled or died. All that remains is the injured and their only healer.¡±


    ¡°Is¡­ Luthe still alive?¡± Kalaya spoke carefully. Too much emphasis on one word would cause her throat to rise and be cut by Ma¡¯at¡¯s crossed blades.


    ¡°That¡¯s the large one, yes? Mhm. He lives.¡± Sato turned to Ma¡¯at, but being behind her, Ma¡¯at could not see her face. She wore a pleading look this time. ¡°A life taken for no reason is equally meaningless. Cutting her throat will only darken your heart further, Ma¡¯at.¡±


    ¡°How¡­ do you¡­ know¡­¡±


    Anemia took her, whisking her thoughts away to parts unknown. She withdrew her blades and slumped down onto the wet floor like a ragdoll, unconscious.


    ¡°Oh, dear. I was afraid this might happen.¡± Sato closed her umbrella¡¯s canopy. It crumpled as if made of cloth.


    The sheer sight of something that had taken so many of their bullets crumpling just like any cheap fabric struck an odd sense of fear inside Kalaya. Though this woman, this self-proclaimed Maiden of the Rain emanated a cheery disposition, she would not hesitate to kill either. As someone who had lived on the streets a good deal of her life, she felt within herself a strange understanding of Sato. Perhaps she had lived a life similar to her own.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fear, girl. My only objective was to bring this mercenary to my workplace. Alright? I only did what I had to. Only¡­¡± Sato looked off into the dreary windows and past them, into the face of the full moon leering at them from the shadowy heavens. ¡°Only¡­ I would have liked to see the look on his face as I stomped his heart into a muddy puddle. Shame he got away. But¡­ look on the bright side. Maybe this is your chance to do something better with your lives, hm?¡± Sato gave Kalaya a warm smile, despite the grim circumstances. Her dark bangs came down in two small stretches on either side of her face. Her eyes glowed violet in the dull moonlight, dredging up from within Kalaya memories of lonely, rainy days spent out in the cold. Without a place to be. Without a home. Without a family she could go back to.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t have anywhere else to go, aight? You have your company¡­ and I had them. But now¡­ it¡¯s all gone to shit.¡±


    ¡°No, no.¡± Sato reached out and patted the Gunblade¡¯s head, then gently touched her demonite horns. ¡°I thought the same, once. But there is always a place one can feel at home. And there are always people willing to help. My mother¡­ My dear mother Shino believed in Deus Come Thus. And thus, we believed in the guiding star of pain and strife. Wise men would often say that experience is born from suffering. But sometimes, miracles are performed, be it through divine means or simple, unseen generosity. Be it a generous star or idle fate, we are destined to find those who can help us. Do you think the same?¡±


    Kalaya sat dumbfounded. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure. But I want to.¡±


    Sato grinned from ear to ear. ¡°You think I¡¯m strange. That¡¯s all well and fine. How about this? Become a baker!¡±


    ¡°A baker¡­?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Become a baker! Imagine it. A cute demonite girl selling delicious pastries. It¡¯s brilliant. What do you say? Beats being a bloody, dirty gangster, right? And better yet, I get a new place to eat snacks!¡± Sato giggled with joy. An odd, childish side of her had seemingly sprung out of nowhere. ¡°Oh, Tien won¡¯t believe this! I¡¯m a genius!¡±


    And so the battle with the Gunblades was over. Whether one could say it was a victory or a defeat was uncertain, but one thing was for sure: Sato was overjoyed and hopeful for the adventures yet to come. Ma¡¯at, still unconscious and losing a large amount of blood, obviously had nothing yet to say on the matter. In time, however, she would wake to a familiar voice, a sweet smell, and a new future.

 Chapter 6: Vroque Company and Firm

    Idle chatter rattled off in a blank space in Ma¡¯at¡¯s addled brain. She was being dragged from what felt like a very, very long sleep. The mixture of anemia, mild starvation and dehydration was a powerful toxin indeed. It had left her unable to do anything but rest, a happening that would have been a great shock to her if she were capable of emoting at all. Unfortunately, she was not. Sleep still kept her locked onto the couch she laid upon, unmoving except the occasional twitch of the nose and such.


    The first thing she heard was a familiar, light voice. An angel?


    ¡°Ma¡¯at~ Time to wake up¡­! That healer isn¡¯t going to pay himself~¡±


    No. Not an angel. Taxes. Much like an ornery cat, Ma¡¯at tumbled over in her sleep and crawled into the nook of the couch cushions.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be like that! You were lucky, though. The bullet went straight through your thigh. I couldn¡¯t believe it at first. Apparently, healing magic only works if there are no foreign objects blocking bloodflow.¡±


    Ma¡¯at finally came to her senses, her morning voice muffled by the cushions and blankets covering her. ¡°Is that¡­ Sato?¡±


    ¡°Of course! Who¡¯d you think I was?¡±


    ¡°No one, really. You just sounded like¡­¡±


    Sato pinched her chin like some philosophical scholar, then opened her mouth as she came to a conclusion faster than Ma¡¯at could finish speaking. ¡°Oh! Did you think I was your mother? Hmhm. Well, I¡¯ve heard that before. You see, there were many days when I was bedridden and sick, and my own dear mother would read to me and pray for my-¡±


    Ma¡¯at flipped over and ripped the coverings off of herself, fresh air invading her lungs and bright light entering her eyes. She was in a dimly lit office, much like the Writer¡¯s, yet this one was much more spacious and tidy. It was a far cry from the almost suffocating, mazelike office her client resided in. Two small desks were near where they both chatted in comfort, and a larger desk toward the back of the room sat near a large chalkboard. Symbols and plans were scrawled across it, but Ma¡¯at was too fatigued and sleepy to make any of it out. ¡°No. You just sounded like someone I knew. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Camelia, was it? That¡¯s the name you kept saying in your sleep.¡±


    Ma¡¯at sighed. An urge to let anger overcome her and threaten Sato rose up within her, but again, exhaustion would not allow it to happen. ¡°Don¡¯t say that name. And don¡¯t listen to me while I sleep.¡± Staring into Sato¡¯s calm eyes reminded her that something much more important was on her mind. ¡°Ah! Asophi¡­ What happened while I was out? Why did you help me? Who are you anyway?¡±


    ¡°Calm down, calm down. I was getting to that. Don¡¯t worry, everything is taken care of. I should probably start with the fact that you¡¯ve been asleep for three days.¡±


    ¡°Three days!? How is that¡­ Ow.¡± Her whole body ached. Beside her was a small table lined with an array of medicine. It seemed the healing magic wasn¡¯t quite enough to bring her back to normal.


    ¡°We had the healer that was keeping that man Luthe stable work on you afterward. Without him, you probably would have died.¡±


    The fact that she had to rely on an enemy for help didn¡¯t sit well. Even worse was the realization that she¡¯d failed her client and allowed Cloak to run off without one iota of his whereabouts.


    Sato sensed Ma¡¯at¡¯s displeasure with the recent events. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I told you, everything was taken care of. I was hired by that old writer friend of yours to save you and drag you back here. But as you can tell, I¡¯m not exactly knowledgeable when it comes to stitching people back together again. So, we were both quite lucky that night.¡± She smiled.


    ¡°The Writer hired you? Where is he now?¡±


    ¡°Right here, Ma¡¯at.¡± A familiar face walked in at that moment. It was Syggrafeas, Writer Extraordinaire. ¡°Now, before you say anything, you succeeded! Keep that money of yours. I believe it is still with that black horse you rode in on. He¡¯s waiting patiently outside.¡±


    Flabbergasted, she shook her head. ¡°Succeeded? No, I failed you. The magical device you gave me led me there, but I didn¡¯t find the leader of the Gunblades. Just some strange man with a rifle. But¡­ maybe if we tracked him down, he¡¯d lead us to-¡±


    The Writer, in his neat and dour brown suit, smirked and swatted the air with his hand in a dismissive gesture. ¡°No, no. I don¡¯t care about all that, Ma¡¯at my dear. The Gunblades can run along and infect some other city for all I care. All I wanted was to drive them out of Reville, and you succeeded! I tried my hand at making another Arcane Construct, failed, tried again, failed, tried again and tested it. I walked around the entire city and do you know what I discovered!?¡±


    Ma¡¯at¡¯s confused eyes darted from the Writer to Sato then back to the Writer again in silence.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t even a blip on the map anymore! No more Gunblades in Reville. So pat yourself on the back, dear girl. You did it. Job¡¯s done.¡±


    ¡°Is it really that simple?¡±


    The elegantly eccentric client plopped down on the couch opposite of Ma¡¯at, resting his chin on his wrists. ¡°It really is. I tipped off the Inkorpt about the warehouse and all, too. They should¡¯ve already cleared it out and cleaned it up by now. Must¡¯ve been a tough gig, though. Don¡¯t envy them.¡±


    Sato took a seat next to Ma¡¯at in turn, perhaps feeling awkward being the only one standing. ¡°There¡¯s more.¡±


    ¡°More?¡±


    ¡°More! Remember when I told you that you should take a break? Among friends?¡± The Writer adjusted his zooming eyeglass.


    Ma¡¯at sighed and pinched in-between her temple and her nose. ¡°Yes¡­ what about it?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I came up with something incredible! Amazing, even. A plot that would put the most devilish, thieving villains out of the job! A design so meticulously brilliant that any scholar in a city-wide radius would flee at the sight of it.¡±


    ¡°Get on with it already.¡± A fear rose up in her chest. Not a primal fear, no, but a fear of what her old colleague was scheming. Whatever it was, it had his one eye twinkling with delight. It was that starry shine in his lone pupil that told her he was planning something that she would not be enthused about.


    He leaned back and raised his arms as if to embrace the building they occupied. ¡°I spoke with Vroque¡¯s chief executive the day before you arrived. Me and him made a certain deal: he would absorb my office, and in exchange, he would hire me as one of his directors! What does this mean, you ask? He¡¯s also agreed to hire you, Ma¡¯at my dear! You can be a bonafide mercenary now, but not limited to shady killings and executions. We can travel the world, set sail, adventure, discover things any normal person couldn¡¯t even dream of! What do you think!?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she replied coldly. Not a hint of curiosity or adventurous spirit could be found in her apathetic tone. ¡°Not interested.¡± She leaned forward and raised her leg, inspecting her bullet wound. It was wrapped in silk bandages. Though it was sore, it seemed to be nearly healed.


    ¡°No¡­? Ah, I should mention that Sato will join you as one of our colleagues.¡±


    Sato nodded, looking at Ma¡¯at with a curious expression. Her violet eyes were darker than they were the night they met. Perhaps they were the kind that changed with their owner¡¯s emotions. Was it a sign that she had hoped Ma¡¯at would join her?


    Ma¡¯at scoffed at the idea and rubbed at her bandages in contemplation.


    Sato glanced at the Writer with another one of her meaningful looks.


    ¡°Ah, right. I should also mention that another will join you. Though, I don¡¯t believe she¡¯s here quite yet. Her name is Tien, a good friend of Sato¡¯s. I think you two would get along nicely-¡±


    Ma¡¯at¡¯s bestial, fierce hazel eyes tore into him. This time, however, it was not a friendly warning. Anger sparked to life within her heart and pumped through her veins. ¡°Stop. Just¡­ stop. I don¡¯t need ¡®adventure¡¯. I don¡¯t need friends. I¡¯m not your daughter, Sygg. You and I are too old for things like this. I don¡¯t have time to run in circles and waste time. I¡­¡± She stared into the Writer¡¯s half-heartbroken visage for a time, then left the room without another word.


    ¡°Ma¡¯at, hold on¡­!¡± The Writer tried to stop her, but she had already left.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bring her back,¡± Sato said. She placed a hand on the Writer¡¯s shoulder and ran after the Swordstress. She grabbed her coat and ran down the stairs. Two floors down. She yanked the door open and stepped out into the streets of Reville, darting her head left and right.


    Deimos was gone from the curb, and he could not be seen amongst the busy crowd chatting and walking along.


    Ma¡¯at rode toward the central district with a heavy heart. In a way, it felt as if she¡¯d been abandoned. The one person she could rely on had gone behind her back and sold off her one haven. Her one place of comfort, where she could feel at home. Though she would lie and curse the Writer for his messiness and that stifling, oblique office, she harbored a certain love for it as well. Now, it was as good as gone. And their partnership was moot.


    A good while passed in the early morning. Sato ran along the avenues, searching and searching. She came across many crowds, many races, but not once did she spot a dark-skinned woman riding atop a black horse. She was about to give up¡­ but something suddenly popped in her mind. A thought, a leading thought that carried her steps and urged her forward one more time. One more place, she thought. One more, then I¡¯ll give up on her.


    The early morning became the afternoon. The hazy sunlight began to clear with the skies. Another beautiful day, just as it was when the Sirithisian mercenary had arrived. Even if she¡¯d lost the Writer to Vroque¡¯s grasp, Reville was just as wondrous a city as always. Full of sonder, full of life.


    ¡°You think you can just walk out on our boss to stuff your face?¡±


    Ma¡¯at looked up, a cupcake in each of her hands and her mouth stuffed with pastry mulch.


    Sato looked down at her with a certain judgemental ire, her bangs wistfully brushing at her face with the autumnal wind. All at once, though, the ire vanished completely. As if consumed by her gluttony made manifest, the Maiden of the Rain joined her so-called colleague at the small table. ¡°I was thinking the exact same thing!¡± she cried, her voice muffled by foodstuffs.


    ¡°You¡­ like this stuff?¡± Ma¡¯at stared at her with fascination.


    ¡°Love it!¡±


    Hesitating, she continued to eat and eat. They each spent an embarrassingly large amount of money on sweets, so much so that when they were done they could barely lift their heads.


    An inordinate amount of time passed. Digestion left them weary and tired, and already noon was upon them and fleeting.


    ¡°Whew~ It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve done that! Tien always tells me I¡¯ll get fat and ruin my diet.¡±


    ¡°She must not understand the woes of a pastry-lover. What kinds of things does she like to eat?¡±


    Sato paused to think. ¡°Um¡­ fish? She likes to buy some bizarre looking things. Most of them don¡¯t even look edible! I keep telling her to buy food that looks appetizing, but all she says is: ¡®Look, Sato. The tastiest delicacies appear disgusting at first glance. The grosser they look, the greater they taste.¡¯ But she¡¯s wrong. She¡¯s been wrong so many times I¡¯ve lost count. We once ate a gargofin caught at Winter¡¯s End, and it might have been the most disgusting thing I¡¯ve ever tasted.¡±


    To the rain woman¡¯s surprise, Ma¡¯at chuckled, a sunlit smile appearing on her face. Noticing Sato¡¯s glare, she hid it just as quickly as it had shown through. The events that led to them even being at the cafe crept into their minds after they had buried it underneath a mountain of cake.


    ¡°...Have you thought about it? Joining Vroque, I mean.¡±


    Ma¡¯at stared into her empty plate. Muddled responses flew around in her brain, but she was too exhausted to cut the conversation short again. ¡°Of course I have. But freelance work is all I¡¯ve got. It¡¯s not as though I have anything against you. It¡¯s just¡­ for so long, I¡¯ve been alone. It¡¯s too much of a change. Besides, I can¡¯t go too far from Reville.¡±


    Sato poked her half-eaten cake with a fork, her eyes trained on Ma¡¯at¡¯s downtrodden form. ¡°Why not? What¡¯s so important that you can¡¯t leave every now and then?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t watch you suffer anymore. How do you do it, from where you are? How do you watch from behind those eyelids of yours? Please, find something new. Search. Seek. Explore and learn this world before your time is cut short.¡±


    The voice from the dream repeated in her head, echoing off into the distance.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that, exactly¡­¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Sato narrowed her gaze. She crept forward across the table, her forearms weighing it down, and stared directly into Ma¡¯at¡¯s face. ¡°Are you waiting for someone? Is it that Camelia person?¡±


    ¡°Waiting? No. Just hoping¡­ Hoping that she comes this way.¡±


    Sato shook her head, her ponytail dancing behind her neck. She pursed her lips. ¡°Don¡¯t you see? This is the perfect opportunity, then! Once we start getting contracts farther out, there¡¯s a higher chance you¡¯ll find her there. Who knows when she¡¯ll ever come this way, if she ever does? Besides, don¡¯t you want to see the world? Meet all kinds of people, see all kinds of things?¡± She looked around them. A clerk at the counter typed busily on a typewriter before turning her back to make a customer some coffee. ¡°This¡­ is all that¡¯s here. I love Reville. But sitting here and waiting forever for something to happen won¡¯t do anything. If you want to see her again¡­ if you want to talk to her, then you only have one option in my eyes. Go and find her.¡±


    ¡°Find people. People who care. Care for them and help them. Then, eventually, you¡¯ll find me.¡±


    Was that voice¡­ really Camelia?


    Sato smiled lightly as she realized she was getting through to her. ¡°And the Writer will still be¡­ kinda like our client at Vroque. I mean, he¡¯ll be our boss, so it¡¯s similar.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s terrifying,¡± Ma¡¯at replied with a smirk.


    ¡°Heheh. Yes, a bit. But isn¡¯t that what makes things fun?¡± Sato dipped a spoon into her tea, swirling it around and around. ¡°Ma¡¯at¡­ what do you want to do? With your life, I mean. What¡¯s your dream?¡±


    ¡°My¡­ dream?¡± In all her years, she couldn¡¯t remember a single time when someone asked her such a question. She was taken aback, perplexed. ¡°I¡¯ve never had one.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense. Everyone has a dream. Anything you strive for can be your dream. Why do you do merc work?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the only thing I¡¯m good at. And it pays well.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean,¡± Sato said, losing herself in her spiraling drink. She looked back up at Ma¡¯at. ¡°What¡¯s the real reason? For me¡­ I want to open a bakery. I¡¯ll hire the most adorable girls I can find, and everyone from the four corners of Vastyliad will come to try my food!¡±


    The Swordstress looked at Sato like she¡¯d just thrown up onto the table.


    ¡°See? Dreams are dumb. But it doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re not meaningful. What¡¯s yours, huh?¡±


    Ma¡¯at stared into the blue sky. Into the wispy pale clouds. At the gliding birds, free and flying across it, their feathers frail and light. Then she turned and looked into the cafe¡¯s kitchen. Into the fiery abyss of their cookware. The raging warmth of the oven and pastries inside. Warmth. A fiery warmth and an old memory. ¡°To see Camelia again. I want to sit beside her at a campfire, just one more time.¡± She shut her eyes tight, as if she could feel the dancing flames against her bare skin. As if she could feel the weight of Camelia¡¯s head resting on her shoulder.


    Sato grinned eagerly. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled!¡± Without a second thought, she sprung up from her chair, yanked Ma¡¯at up, and dragged her out of the cafe.


    ¡°What? What¡¯s settled?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna join us, of course. After all, we¡¯re already friends!¡±


    ¡°Already¡­? Wait¡­!¡±


    Sato threw Ma¡¯at onto Deimos¡¯s back, jumped onto his front, grabbed the reins, and rode off back to the office. Back to Vroque Company and Firm.


    ¡°...So, this is a new development?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m afraid so. The Advent brought¡­ Oh!¡± The Writer, interrupted by the reappearance of the two women, stopped himself mid-sentence. ¡°You¡¯re back!¡± He stood in front of the huge chalkboard at the end of the room, a white stick of chalk pinched in his fingers. ¡°I started early. I thought it would have taken you longer-¡±


    ¡°I just went to the nearest cafe,¡± Sato said, chuckling through the sentence. ¡°This lady can really eat.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you to-¡± Ma¡¯at began, but the sudden appearance of a new face and voice made herself known. Standing from her sitting position and turning around to face Ma¡¯at and Sato, a straight-haired brunette woman of a shorter stature stared daggers contemptuously at one of them. Her eyes were sky blue, and she wore a red dress shirt, black pants, and a brown overcoat. Beside her chair was a black attache case which Ma¡¯at assumed to be her¡¯s.


    ¡°Sato¡­ what did I say about you going to the cafe?¡±


    The tall, raincoat-wearing woman scratched the back of her neck anxiously. Her voice trembled. ¡°Uhm¡­ that it¡¯s not healthy¡­? But I didn¡¯t go there to eat! I went there to bring Ma¡¯at back. See? Brought her back.¡± Though it was technically the truth, it was also what law officials would call a ¡®half-truth¡¯, another form of lying.


    Tien shifted her interrogation to Ma¡¯at. ¡°That true? Did she really not order anything?¡±


    Ma¡¯at looked at Sato in the corner of her eye. She was practically on the verge of tears, begging her to help her out. Was she really so simple as to lie to a woman she barely knew for a woman she also barely knew? Why? There was nothing in it for her. Even so, the Maiden¡¯s pleading, glassy violet eyes had a certain power over her. ¡°Y-Yeah¡­ she didn¡¯t order anything. I ate everything myself.¡±


    Tien crossed her arms and looked them both up and down in suspicion. ¡°Hm. Really? Alright, then. We have more important things to talk about, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we do.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Ma¡¯at asked.


    The Writer directed her and Sato to sit down in the neatly prepared chairs beside Tien. It seemed as if he were preparing to give them a lecture on something. He scrambled over to his desk on the left. The windows, now open, let the bright, blue sky and sunlight in. It painted the room in a cool, refreshing color that left no space for darkness. He picked up three sheets of paper, three copies of the same document, and handed them out to each of them. Then, he walked back over to the chalkboard and wrote down several different definitions. He also scribbled some half-hearted drawings to give a simple visualization of each word.


    Ma¡¯at took a cursory glance at the piece of paper in her hands. It read:


    Article 7-A: Effects of the Advent


    - Memory loss in different degrees all revolving around when the Advent occurred


    - New plant life such as hypnophage and Flowers of Tranquility growing all around Vastyliad


    - Magic rarely makes a chime sound, it now makes musical sounds akin to violins and pianos


    - Most have been given latent magical abilities relating to the realization of their Paracosm


    - Everyone has been given the ability to project their Paracosm, essentially their ¡®inner world¡¯ that is the manifestation of both their trauma and emotional strength


    - People can still be taken over by their magic and their Paracosm, becoming Enigmas


    Article 7-B: Inherent Magic


    ~Ocularis~


    Magical eyes that the user is born with. They can hold a number of varying powers and can be hidden and used at will. Very rare.


    ~Paracosm~


    A person''s inner world given metaphysical form through inherent magic. Without intervention, this realm remains in the subconscious imagination of a person. Through a traumatic event or magical reflection, however, these realms can be harnessed as physical instruments. They can also take control and transform the user into a hideous being known as an Enigma.


    ~Enigma~


    Monstrous beings that were once humanoid. Usually created through ¡®breakdowns¡¯ or ¡®wrathcurse¡¯ events, causing the person to transform into an abomination that relates to their Paracosm in some shape or form.


    Article 7-C: Enigma Hunting [TOP SECRET]


    All Vroque employees hired under Iteration 7 will be given contracts mostly involving the elimination of Enigmas. These will be mostly contained to the main continent, Vastyliad. Consult your registered director for more information.


    Ma¡¯at stared at the document in bewilderment, unable to parse the strange language used and the headache-inducing content therein.


    ¡°Forgive me for the text¡¯s brevity,¡± the Writer carried on. ¡°I didn¡¯t have much time to jot down every little detail. But I¡¯m sure I can answer any questions.¡±


    ¡°Mm, right. As I was saying,¡± Tien said calmly and intellectually, ¡°these ¡®Effects of the Advent¡¯ are new developments? And these can¡¯t be all there is. An event of that scale had to have made changes to the world that are beyond our knowledge.¡± She pointed at the loose paper in her hand poignantly.


    ¡°Quite right,¡± the Writer responded. ¡°These are just the ones that I have been able to confirm through investigations and the things mercenaries have told me.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t these¡­ Paracosms¡­ or Inner Worlds exist before the Advent as well? Breakdowns and such have been occurring for hundreds of years.¡±


    ¡°Right again.¡± The Writer nodded and went back to scrawling on the chalkboard. It squeaked as he wrote, making Ma¡¯at and Sato wince at the uncomfortable sound. ¡°Only now we have grown to understand the cause. Through certain missions Vroque led to the Technicist underground, it is surmised that emotions and cognitive thought have a great power over our world. It is the source of magic itself.¡±


    Tien¡¯s eyes practically gleamed with stars as she listened intently. She, too, was jotting down notes onto the backside of the document on a clipboard she¡¯d found. The other two were lost in a sea of confusing words and diagrams.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so dumbfounded, Sato. You know this stuff, kind of.¡±


    ¡°I do?¡±


    ¡°She does?¡± Ma¡¯at inquired.


    ¡°Mhm,¡± Tien confirmed. ¡°It¡¯s the whole basis of your abilities. You¡¯re able to do the things you do because you can tap into your Paracosm.¡±


    ¡°What the hell is a Paracosm?¡± Ma¡¯at snapped, annoyed by the woman. Though she¡¯d read the meaning on the page, the definition left a lot to be desired.


    ¡°A Paracosm, otherwise known as an Inner World,¡± the Writer explained, ¡°is an entire metaphysical world beyond our own that exists on a separate plane of existence. It is overlaid on a humanoid¡¯s mind, and grows with the mind. And the mind grows with it.¡±


    ¡°An entire world? You¡¯re saying that everyone¡¯s mind is connected to worlds we can¡¯t see?¡±


    ¡°Exactly, Ma¡¯at my dear! I knew you¡¯d understand. Think of it as a door. Everyone has such a door to their Inner World. What leaks through the keyhole forms their personality and attributes. Their race, their ideals, their characteristics. However, some hold the keys to such doors and are able to open them. Some wider than others.¡± He glanced at Sato, then back to Ma¡¯at. ¡°What this means is that those who can open the doors to their Inner World are capable of using magic that reflects their Inner World in turn. Their magic brings forth their Inner World into reality in some shape or form. However, opening the door too wide will result in disastrous effects. This is what creates an Enigma: a monster born when a person is completely overwritten by their own Paracosm.¡±


    Ma¡¯at stared back down at the document with a gained sense of understanding. These words started to make sense, and they connected with things she already knew about the world of magic. What she¡¯d seen in the war and elsewhere made it clear that ¡®magic¡¯ in the literal sense was quite limited. What a person could achieve was based on their birth and bloodline, and then how that magic could take form would also depend heavily on how developed their imagination was and how much emotional turmoil they¡¯d suffered. Why that was the case was unclear, but she doubted the Writer would know the answer to such a vague question.


    ¡°You understand now, Sato?¡± Tien asked her friend, a nice yet concerned smile on her face.


    ¡°Yes, though what is this thing called an Ocularis? I¡¯ve never heard of anything like it.¡±


    The Writer nodded and pointed to a crude drawing of an eye he made. It was bone white and was composed of many circles and shading of the iris. ¡°Oculari are much less known. Truth be told, we don¡¯t know much about them. What we do know is that some people are born with very unique eyes. Perhaps with eyes that can physically gaze into their Inner World?¡±


    ¡°Is that the case?¡± Tien asked.


    ¡°It is highly probable. Just a hypothesis from me, though. I¡¯ve never known anyone with an Ocularis to ask. But every case seems to be different. I¡¯ve heard of people born with eyes that gave them the innate ability to use pyrokinesis. I¡¯ve also heard of people with eyes that can see some seconds into the future. All scary, fascinating things. But as I wrote, they are very rare. I came to know about them not even a few years ago.¡±


    They all remained in silence for a time.


    ¡°Any other questions?¡± The Writer asked, to no reply. ¡°Then, I have to ask, why are you here Ma¡¯at? I thought you weren¡¯t interested.¡± He crossed his arms in an attempt to appear despondent, but his ravenous passion for giving such a lecture had all but burnt most of his worries away.


    Ma¡¯at sighed and crossed her arms as well. She looked away. ¡°Sato convinced me to come back, so here I am.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ll be joining us? Even if you¡¯d be a Vroque employee on paper?¡±


    She took a deep breath and silently let it pass through her nostrils. It calmed her somewhat. ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll work with you all as long as it continues to align with my goal.¡± She threw a fleeting look at Sato. ¡°As long as it aligns with my dream. But as soon as it doesn¡¯t, I¡¯ll leave and we¡¯ll go our separate ways.¡±


    Childishly bright smiles appeared on the Writer and Sato¡¯s faces at the same time.


    ¡°Glad to hear it. Truly. Ah, perhaps we should redo introductions? Now that we¡¯re all officially the employees of ¡®Vroque Company and Firm Iteration 7¡¯!¡± The Writer shouted the boring and soulless name of the building as if they were a traveling circus.


    ¡°Wow. That¡¯s a terrible name,¡± Sato said.


    ¡°Yeah, it doesn¡¯t really tell people what we do. Can we change it?¡±


    The Writer thought, pinching his chin ponderously as he always did. ¡°Hmm. I don¡¯t see why not. As long as it sounds professional, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°What about¡­ ¡®Vroque Bakery and Firm¡¯!?¡± the Maiden of the Rain yelled out. It seemed as if she couldn¡¯t help but reach for her dream at every chance she had. It was a sentiment that spoke deeply to the type of person Sato was. Her strength of will, though Ma¡¯at wouldn¡¯t admit it, inspired her greatly. Deep down, the mercenary believed that this woman could lead her to better days. That she thought so very different from her, and in doing so, could show her paths that were otherwise blocked off by tremendous, insurmountable thorns.


    ¡°No, Sato. Professional!¡± Tien chastised and shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t have any ideas.¡±


    A simple name came to Ma¡¯at¡¯s mind. ¡°What about ¡®Vroque Investigations¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Mm! That could work,¡± the Writer agreed.


    The others nodded.


    ¡°Sounds good to me,¡± Tien said. ¡°Well, it¡¯s nice to meet you, Ma¡¯at. I¡¯m Tien. I¡¯m more into data and paperwork stuff, but if you two ever need me physically on the job, I can hold my own.¡± The brunette woman shook Ma¡¯at¡¯s hand, her calm blue eyes settling her nerves. ¡°And this is Sato, as you know. We¡¯ve worked together for quite a while at another Iteration, so if she ever annoys you, just let me know. I¡¯ll give her a stern talking-to.¡± She laughed upon seeing Sato¡¯s displeased look.


    ¡°I¡¯m not annoying. I¡¯m Sato, Maiden of the Rain! I¡¯m actually a pretty well-known merc around here, Ma¡¯at. Whatever kinda case it is, I¡¯m sure I can help you solve it. Especially if it¡¯s more of a¡­ physical debate rather than an intellectual one, if you understand. Heh.¡±


    Tired and sore, Ma¡¯at shook her hand and was led by the Writer back to the couch for some necessary rest. In days time, they would receive their first contract. Sleepiness claimed her and led her through a blurry dream mirroring the events that had transpired and the people she had met. The future had come and gone, leaving behind a new one to replace it.

 Chapter 7: Murder in Broad Daylight

    It was 8:30 AM on September 1st when the Writer burst into their lodgings and told them to gather in the main room. Though the city of Reville didn¡¯t have many planted trees on ground level, it did have a fair amount on top of buildings. With autumn¡¯s slow arrival, a small scattering of orange and red leaves draped the city and fell into the small streams of water running through it from Larueszeradt.


    Sato yawned, stretching her body across the couch in the main office. The fading orange gleam of dawn shone through the wide windows to her left. ¡°Why¡¯d you have to wake us up so early, Sygg?¡±


    Tien, opposite of her and full of energy, looked at the Writer with excitement. She gasped loudly. ¡°Is it a contract? Finally?¡±


    Sato let her head fall backward lazily against the cushions as she stared up into the ceiling. ¡°Why are you so excited to work? I¡¯ll never understand it¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is,¡± the Writer replied, unperturbed by Sato¡¯s comment. ¡°Our first one. Though, it is a relatively odd one. Our client isn¡¯t exactly one person¡­ In fact, a subsection of the Union contacted us. Our very own government.¡±


    ¡°The Union of Isles? They¡¯re the ones who own Reville, yeah?¡± Tien asked, though she already knew the answer.


    ¡°Yes, which did make me glad at first, seeing as how Vroque isn¡¯t too well-known outside of this city. Unfortunately, that didn¡¯t last. An official from here contacted them, and they contacted us. It¡¯s about a very sudden and strange murder that occurred early this morning. Let¡¯s see¡­ it must have happened¡­ three hours ago.¡±


    ¡°A murder, huh? Why can¡¯t the Union handle it? Or just hire the Nye Inkorpt like they always do?¡±


    The Writer grinned strangely. ¡°Excellent question. I don¡¯t really know, either. My best guess is that they¡¯re still busy with all the other syndicates running around the city. That and the endless tourists waiting to enter it.¡±


    ¡°Hm. Whichever it is, it¡¯s true that the Union has their hands full right now. Better yet, this could be just what we need to get our name out there. Vroque has always played second fiddle to the Inkorpt, but if the Union¡¯s trusting us with this instead, it could help us at least become equal to them in the people¡¯s eyes.¡±


    The Writer chuckled and turned to stare out the window into the busy sunlit streets. Small children walked along the walkways, most likely toward Exilliei District, which was where a great deal of schools and other educational buildings stood. Their faint voices and laughter could barely be heard through the glass and the blowing wind outside.


    ¡°What are the details, then? About the murder.¡± Sato spoke up, raising her head to attention.


    ¡°I was getting to that, but we can¡¯t start without Ma¡¯at. Where is she?¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± a voice came from the doorway. The Sirithisian woman of the same name with her shoulder-length, fluffy hair stood there. It was clear she was tired, but finally ready to work after her recovery. She had laid in bed with nothing to do for far too long, and Sato¡¯s endless talks as she healed did not help her situation. If anything, it annoyed her to no end that she couldn¡¯t even escape it. Now, though, she could leave and work in perfect silence apart from her own thoughts rattling off inside her head.


    ¡°Great!¡± the Writer exclaimed. ¡°Well, why don¡¯t you and Sato head to the crime scene and Tien here can help me with some things. I have the utmost faith in you two.¡± In one smooth motion, he snapped his fingers, pointed at them, and winked. It was exaggerated and weird, as if the very action itself was sarcastic.


    Ma¡¯at and Sato stared at him in confusion and made it known audibly.


    ¡°What do you mean? Leave Sato here, I can handle it myself.¡±


    ¡°What? Aren¡¯t you gonna give us the details, at least?¡±


    The two stopped and looked at each other with raised eyebrows.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you want me to help?¡± Sato asked.


    Ma¡¯at sighed. ¡°Because I can handle it myself. You¡¯d slow me down. Just help him and Tien with the paperwork or whatever.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­ because you handled the Gunblades just fine without my help.¡±


    Ma¡¯at¡¯s eyes darted away, gazing into a dark patch of shadow beneath the Writer¡¯s heavy desk. ¡°That¡­ was a minor mistake. It was a busy day, and that Cloak guy is real quiet when he needs to be¡­¡±


    ¡°Minor? You call getting shot in the leg minor?¡± Sato stared in disbelief at her colleague¡¯s bandaged limb.


    ¡°Shhhh,¡± the Writer shushed them, putting a finger to his mustachioed lips. ¡°Stop this bickering, now. Do as I say. About the info, Sato. I¡¯ve got the client waiting there. He¡¯s an officer of the Union. Red cape, gold-trimmed. Can¡¯t miss ¡®em. Now go to the crime scene and bother him, okay? Go, go!¡±


    With that, the two women were shushed and pushed out of the office, left out on the street in an awkward alliance.


    Ma¡¯at looked off into the distance as she always did, avoiding the annoying conversation that would soon latch her to the Maiden of the Rain beside her.


    ¡°You lied. What¡¯s the real reason you don¡¯t wanna work with me? I thought we were friends.¡± Sato¡¯s purple puppy-dog eyes made her feel sick to her stomach with guilt.


    Ma¡¯at crossed her arms and stepped down from the curb. She patted Deimos on the snout. ¡°Look, it¡¯s nothing personal. I just like to be alone, I told you that. You might thrive with a partner, but¡­ I¡¯m not so social. So don¡¯t expect much from me.¡±


    Sato looked at the mercenary as if she were talking to a little girl. She felt as if she understood her reclusive personality a little better, but decided that she wouldn¡¯t let it get in the way of their camaraderie. ¡°Haha, well I will. The first step to improving your social skills is to talk to people! Luckily, your big sis Sato can get along with anyone, no matter what!¡± She stood triumphantly, then slowly began mounting the back of the dark horse in front of her.


    Ma¡¯at stifled a chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m older than you and Tien. If anyone is a big sister here, it¡¯s me.¡±


    The two rode upon Deimos through the streets. After a short while, they arrived at the edge of Valeigh Street: the long, winding street of art and music. There, surrounded by a small crowd, was the crime scene. Beside a bent lamp post, a red, mutilated thing clung sloppily to the cobblestone. The bulk of it was hidden underneath a pale tarp, but the seeping sanguine liquid leaking from it made it slightly transparent. The crowd were covering their mouths and mumbling amongst themselves. Holding them back was a team of around ten Union soldiers dressed in white and gold.


    And near them, a tall figure stood garbed in a red cape with gold trims. His hair, too, was golden. Long blond locks rolled down his immaculate armor. His skin was pallid and pristine. Noticing the Vroque girls, he turned and began walking toward them with a prideful gait as if he were walking the red carpet. A silver-gold rapier on his hip jangled in its sheath and let out small echoing clicks. It reminded Ma¡¯at and Sato of the silver rounds the Gunblades had used for their weapons. Perhaps they were made of a similar compound. ¡°Niale! Good morning. Uhp, well, maybe not so good. No morning paired with a murder could be described as ¡®good¡¯. Just morning, then. My name is Raphael, Captain of the Union¡¯s 11th. I assume you are the lackeys Vroque sent, yes? You do not look like common citizens to me.¡±


    ¡°Lackeys¡­?¡± The word struck an odd cord in Sato. She wasn¡¯t sure if the man was being rude on purpose or not, but from his hoity-toity stance the latter was probably true. ¡°Yes, we¡¯re both from Vroque Investigations, Vroque¡¯s 7th Iteration. I¡¯m Sato, and she¡¯s Ma¡¯at. We weren¡¯t given any prior information, so if you could give us any details, that would be great.¡± She flashed a half-forced smile.


    Raphael nodded passively, then turned to his side to look at the mess of red and white at the scene. ¡°Sad state of affairs, I¡¯m afraid. An illum pauper, his wife said his name was Drosen. There were some witnesses, we have two here. They say it must have happened mere hours ago. Quite unfortunate that only a drunk and a beggar were around to see what happened. We don¡¯t have much to go on, really. Though it¡¯s better than no witnesses at all, I suppose.¡± He shook his head, but it wasn¡¯t remorseful. It was as if he only did it to fake remorsefulness. He was sad about how it added to his work load, however.


    ¡°Can we see the body?¡± Ma¡¯at asked the blond-crowned man.


    Raphael smirked. ¡°Right this way. Keep in mind that there isn¡¯t much left. To call it a body at this point teeters on the edge of comedy.¡± He fully turned around, his red cape swinging to his side. The two women followed the short distance, occasionally taking glances past him at the crimson mess draped in white. ¡°Clear the crowd! Then reveal the mess for our friends here. They¡¯re from Vroque.¡±


    Half of the men draped in white and gold, Raphael¡¯s closest soldiers, nodded firmly and began ordering the masses to leave the area. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    One of them, closest to Raphael, stepped forward. His silver helmet lined with gold shone regally in the morning gleam. It had three eccentric slits in the front for his eyes and featured a curved, eccentric horn-design that stopped abruptly after leaning forward. He spoke quietly with his captain for a moment, then nodded solemnly and knelt down beside the cloaked mutilation. He gripped the tarpaulin fabric tightly, then removed it from its place.


    There it was. The body of an illum man, stretched, battered, minced, and bent at the same angle as the dented post. He wore simple clothes, now drenched in rustic red and black. His legs were broken, his torso disfigured, and his neck snapped. His bloodshot gaze was filled with onyx ichor like two glasses of dark red wine. Whatever color his irises were had been erased and lost to any who hadn¡¯t known him in life. His pointed ears, characteristic of the illum, were pale. In contrast, though the illum normally featured pale, ghostly skin, his was dyed in complete crimson and deathly decay. No remnant of life remained within him. The most striking of it all, Ma¡¯at noticed immediately, was his twisted torso. His guts spilled out from numerous rips in his abdomen, yet there was no real trace of a blade being used. Yet, that was not the most concerning object of fascination. Growing from his mutilated intestines were beautiful vermilion roses speckled with dew. Small white stars dotted their petals. In any other situation, the sight could be seen as beautiful. The man had been turned into an immaculate recreation of a rose garden.


    The stench was unbearable and unrelenting. Sato and Raphael wore visages of disgust while Ma¡¯at, unfazed, checked every inch of the strange phenomena.


    ¡°Well? What do you think? Magic, surely?¡± the Union Captain posited, his hand a dam containing the contents of his stomach.


    ¡°Has to be,¡± Ma¡¯at responded unceremoniously. ¡°Whether it¡¯s from a spell or a weapon is unclear.¡±


    ¡°How could a simple magical weapon do this?¡± Sato gulped, also straining to contain herself in the midst of the pooling fumes. ¡°Look, there aren¡¯t any slice marks. And no bruising on the body itself.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, but¡­¡± She stared into the strange wounds, trailing off. ¡°...but we can¡¯t be so sure. Could be a weapon capable of hiding its true nature. For now, though, we should assume it¡¯s due to a spell or hex of some kind. Hm? What is it?¡±


    Sato pointed at the bent lamp post. The lantern light it once held had fallen and shattered in a dozen pieces. A small puddle of dried oil snaked along the ground.


    ¡°I was wondering about that, too. Can you bring one of those witnesses you were talking about?¡± She eyed Raphael with a commanding stare.


    ¡°Right away,¡± he replied, leaving to fetch them. He was simply relieved that he would be able to get away from the smell for a short time.


    Ma¡¯at stood and took a few steps back, still eyeing the corpse how a predator might examine its dead prey. It was a technique she had learned years and years ago from a friend of hers. Sometimes, to get a better understanding of something, one must learn to take a step back and look at it from another angle. Looking at it too close would mean you could miss the obvious in the background, and looking at it from too far would mean missing the clear clues hidden in the fine details. ¡°Hmph,¡± she smirked.


    ¡°What?¡± Sato asked, turning to her with one eye still trained on the body.


    ¡°Nothing. Just funny how merc work is. One day you¡¯re hired to kill someone, and the next you¡¯re investigating it yourself. What a dumb, absurd world we live in.¡±


    Sato responded with plain silence. It was a statement that she couldn¡¯t exactly refute. It was the truth, if a bit exaggerated. Part of her was stunned, too, by Ma¡¯at¡¯s investigative abilities. The Writer had told her so when she¡¯d met him following the initial deal with Vroque¡¯s executive, but to see it in action was another thing entirely.


    ¡°Okay, here is the first witness.¡± Raphael lightly pushed a man in his late thirties toward them. He was unkempt and wore a brown, checkered coat and dirty pants. ¡°State your name, fool.¡±


    The man¡¯s dreamy look dissipated slightly, and he held up two hands as if to calm Raphael¡¯s fiery disdain. ¡°Ah, right, right. Sorry. My name is Jeri.¡± His voice was hoarse from factory smoke. He fit the bill for such a worker.


    ¡°And!?¡± Raphael cried, violently pushing the man again. ¡°Say what you saw. Be proud. It¡¯s the only time you¡¯ll be truly useful to the Union, dog.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, sorry. Niale, ladies. Umm¡­ to get to it, it was just a few hours ago now. I was walking down the street-¡±


    ¡°Drunk, with a bottle in your hand. Do not obviate any information, no matter how critical!¡± the Union Captain chastised the man.


    ¡°Fine, fine. Yes, I was a bit drunk. I was walking down the street, swaying this way and that, when I saw it. This man¡­ what was his name?¡±


    ¡°Drosen,¡± Sato reminded him.


    ¡°Right, right. Drosen. I saw this man, this man whom I once saw working with my brothers at the factory. He was stumbling, drunker than a bunch of skunks. Drunker than me! He passed the light post here, when suddenly¡­ he was thrown.¡±


    ¡°Thrown?¡± Ma¡¯at repeated.


    ¡°Thrown. He went flying backward into the post and knocked the lantern off its hinges. Whole thing bent backward. Then¡­ he grabbed his stomach. I thought he was gonna puke. But, no. He didn¡¯t. It was like¡­ he was possessed or something. He screamed, then his legs¡­ ugh¡­¡± Jeri put a hand to his balding head, rubbing it to calm himself. Beads of sweat dripped down his face.


    ¡°Did you see anyone else? Anyone who looked suspicious nearby?¡±


    He hesitated slightly in thought. ¡°No, no. Nobody. Not a soul. Except for her,¡± he pointed at the other witness. She was a studious looking woman wearing an artist¡¯s apron. Her black hair laid across one shoulder, and her eyes shone in the gloaming of the towering buildings. The faint sputter of a soaring airship above them passed as it disappeared into a cluster of white clouds.


    Ma¡¯at stared at the woman, then laid eyes on the broken lamp. Its glass shards were not pristine and clear, they were an oily black. It looked as if something had passed through them. ¡°Thank you. Let him go.¡±


    Raphael pushed the poor man away, leaving him to stumble off and leave the scene.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think it was him?¡± Sato asked her quietly.


    Ma¡¯at shook her head slowly, contemplating her next move. ¡°Have you noticed it yet?¡±


    ¡°Noticed what?¡±


    ¡°The glass shards. They¡¯re black.¡± She knelt down beside the post.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time to analyze some city fixture, ma¡¯am. We called you Vroque people to solve the murder, not repair a light.¡± Raphael scoffed, clearly pleased with his remark.


    Ma¡¯at leered at him from over her crouched position. ¡°Make yourself useful and get the other witness, reht¡¯ka.¡±


    His grin faded instantaneously, then he turned and left with the same regal demeanor. His pride, however shallow, remained stalwart in the face of her mockery. What helped him, too, was that he didn¡¯t know the meaning of the word she¡¯d uttered.


    ¡°What¡¯s a¡­ reht¡¯ka?¡± Sato asked her, truly curious.


    Ma¡¯at smiled and nearly laughed, yet held herself back. ¡°It¡¯s a Sirithisian word. In your tongue, it would mean something similar to¡­¡± She thought for a moment, a wry smirk appearing on her tanned face once more. ¡°It¡¯d be about the same as calling someone an idiot. Or a dumbass.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Sato took in the information as if she were sitting in an actual classroom learning the language. That same childlike side to her seemed to come out whenever she was flustered or curious about something she didn¡¯t know about.


    ¡°More importantly, the shards¡­¡±


    ¡°Right. You were talking about how they¡¯re black. Aren¡¯t they just covered in oil? Or dried blood?¡±


    Ma¡¯at shook her head, her dark hair swishing left and right. ¡°No,¡± she continued in her usual, brusque manner of speaking, ¡°they aren¡¯t painted black. The glass itself has had its properties altered. Here,¡± she said, picking up a shard. She passed it to Sato. ¡°Can¡¯t you sense it? Probably better than I can.¡±


    The Maiden gripped the piece of glass between her thumb and pointer finger intensely, focusing her mind on it. A feeling coursed through her phalanges and entered the shard like a neural probe. ¡°You¡¯re right. They aren¡¯t dyed black from some liquid. They were colored black through some powerful magic. Pinpoints reflected back and forth almost ad nauseam. It¡¯s like¡­ light-¡±


    ¡°Light reflected through a mirror,¡± Ma¡¯at finished her thought.


    Sato stared at her, then looked downward, lost in a deluge of questions with no answers. In the deep dark, in the abyssal black, she could feel something else present. The remnant emotions in the magic. Though faint and broken, she could feel a pinprick of love. Thorned love. Obsessive and destructive, but born from pure adoration. Desire filtered through a wretched lens.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you noticed? There are a lot of mirrors around here. Glass, puddles¡­¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s your last witness,¡± Raphael interrupted. ¡°Make it quick, then solve this thing so we can all go back to sleep.¡± He stepped away, and the woman Jeri had pointed out stepped forward. Paint splattered her apron.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name, miss?¡± Sato asked.


    ¡°Reina. I¡¯m a painter, as you can see.¡±


    ¡°Did you know this man? Drosen?¡±


    The woman doused in many colors adjusted her rounded glasses. ¡°In a way, I did. Not personally. My sister knew him.¡±


    Ma¡¯at examined the woman. She didn¡¯t seem outwardly suspicious. In fact, she seemed like the timid type. The type that wouldn¡¯t dare to ever commit a crime. Despite that, she gripped the side of her apron anxiously. She was afraid of something. Afraid of the inevitable question that was to come. ¡°What¡¯s your sister¡¯s name? How did she know him, exactly?¡±


    Reina took a couple of measly steps toward them, her eyes cloaked in hidden fear. ¡°Please, I don¡¯t know what to say,¡± she whispered. ¡°I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    Ma¡¯at glanced around the street. Aside from the crowd pushed back by the Union soldiers, the only ones who dared to come near the scene were random passersby. ¡°Afraid of what?¡± she whispered back.


    ¡°I¡¯m worried. I¡¯m worried that¡­ my sister has done something awful. But¡­ she couldn¡¯t have done this. There¡¯s no way she could have. She¡¯s too¡­ sickly.¡± A flicker of light in her eyes. Blue and serene beauty. Love and care for her sister. Bitter sadness and self-loathing for her suspicions.


    ¡°We¡¯re here to help. Could you take us to her?¡± Sato gave the woman a trustworthy look.


    Reina pulled her hands up to her chest, clasping them. Holding herself for warmth. Warmth for her body and spirit. Her eyes darted back and forth from Ma¡¯at and Sato to Drosen¡¯s roseate remains. ¡°O-Okay. We don¡¯t live very far. It¡¯s just me and my sister. We¡¯re down the street.¡± The bespectacled woman closed her eyes for a moment almost as if in prayer, then led the investigators away.


    ¡°Where are you going!?¡± Raphael cried after them.


    Sato grinned mischievously. ¡°To solve the murder, reht¡¯ka! Hmhm.¡±


    Ma¡¯at went wide-eyed, her mouth nearly agape. ¡°Wow. I thought you said you could get along with anyone.¡±


    She deflated, a bit defeated. ¡°Well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe there¡¯s just some people you¡¯re destined to dislike, no matter what.¡±


    ¡°Hmph. Maybe. He really is an asshole, though. Can¡¯t see anyone getting along with him.¡±


    The two ladies followed Reina to her tenement. Time would tell if their hunch would lead to valuable progress in the case or doom them to fail their very first contract.

 Chapter 8: Amorous Thorns

    ¡°You can keep your shoes on, detectives. I can assure you, my sister has done nothing wrong. You¡¯ll be in and out before you know it.¡±


    ¡°Wait a minute,¡± Sato said. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say you were worried that she might¡¯ve had a hand in the murder?¡±


    Reina¡¯s face was cast in shadow, forlorn and statuesque at the bottom of the staircase. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s exactly why I need you two here. To clear her of any wrongdoing. Not just for her sake, but mine as well. I know¡­ I¡¯m a terrible, selfish sister.¡±


    Sato looked at her with pity in her heart. ¡°No, you¡¯re not. That just means you care about her. A bad sister wouldn¡¯t think twice about anyone but herself.¡± She smiled warmly. Ma¡¯at wondered just how much Sato had internalized her mother¡¯s personality into her own. There was no way of knowing without knowing Shino herself, but perhaps one day she could ask her. Or ask Tien.


    No. Why do I care at all? Sato¡¯s her own person. The last thing she wants is me butting into her past. Hell, it¡¯s the last thing I¡¯d want her to do. I need to focus on the contract. On myself.


    A bit of light returned to Reina¡¯s face and her disposition cleared. Ironically, Sato had partially wiped away the storm cloud that had been brewing over the young woman¡¯s head. ¡°Th-thank you. That¡¯s very kind of you to say. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m not a very confident or social person, you see. Rosaline¡¯s always been the popular one.¡±


    She led them up the carpeted stairway. With each step, the wood beneath the fabric quietly creaked. It was certainly an odd sight, if there had been anyone else there to see it. A Sirithisian woman clad in battle garments armed with two blades and a woman wearing a raincoat armed with an umbrella tip-toeing up some apartment stairs. The absurdity of it all was lost to them in the moment¡¯s passing.


    Along the banister they trailed until they reached the fourth floor, the penultimate story of the tenement. The ever-so-faint speech of the neighbors barely eked out through the sturdy walls. They were in a fairly long hall that led to other halls, and behind them was the staircase they had just ascended. A high-reaching yet slender window stretched across the other side opposite to the passage leading to the zig-zagging halls. It was clear, though very fine markings were scrawled across its corners. It was a glossy, pleasant paint. An artist had added much-needed color to the muted interior.


    ¡°Is this your work?¡± Ma¡¯at studied the paint as she spoke. It was clear her inquiry was for Reina¡¯s ears.


    ¡°Mm. No, that is Rosaline¡¯s. I¡¯ve done the bottom floors. They were some of our first works. Our first jobs painting. The old renter lady that owns these flats had pity on us starving artists, and¡­ asked us to pretty the place up a little. It was tough work, and took a long while, but it was a pleasant time.¡± The painter nudged her black-rimmed glasses back up on the ridge of her nose and fell sullen. ¡°Some days¡­ I dearly miss those times. When it was just me and her, painting away. Giggling. Calling up to each other from the bottom and the top of the building. It was so much easier then.¡±


    Sato examined the girl as she dreamt of the past. The violet flames around her pupils flickered. She tapped the end of her umbrella on the wall absent-mindedly. ¡°Did something happen, then?¡±


    Reina¡¯s head bobbed up and down reluctantly. She clenched her apron again as if bracing for impact. As if someone were about to abuse her, but neither Ma¡¯at nor Sato nor any ghost or apparition likewise made its move. Fear had begun to creep back into the poor woman¡¯s muddled heart. ¡°Then¡­ my sister fell sick, unable to paint. Only I was left to take care of her. To take care of us,¡± she said, an ache lowering her tone. ¡°For a while, I thought it was simply a cold or fever. But then she began to babble.¡±


    ¡°Babble?¡± Ma¡¯at asked as they both followed Reina¡¯s small steps further into the darting hallways. Countless doors passed them by. More creaking echoes accompanied their walk.


    ¡°Yes, detective. Incoherent things. Rambling. Like she¡¯d gone mad in the night. She began to¡­ obsess¡­ over every little thing. It was hard to leave her alone for too long. But I had to, to pay the rent.¡±


    Ma¡¯at and Sato exchanged glances.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± Reina said, gesturing toward another wooden door. Except, this one was totally unlike the countless others that looked identical to one another. Their door was painted with wonderful flowers that stretched across the chipped frame and grew outward slightly onto the walls.


    ¡°Roses.¡±


    Reina locked eyes with the dark-skinned mercenary, then turned back around, facing the door. ¡°Yes. White-speckled roses are our favorites. I still bring home some every now and then for her. She still loves them. It¡¯s one of the rare things she notices nowadays.¡± Finishing her explanation, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, leaving the way open for the two investigators to enter quietly.


    It was a pleasant home, fit for two pleasant-sounding sisters. Flower pots holding buds and barely-blooming flora. Knick-knacks lining the pale-painted shelves over the steel kitchen sink. Cogwheels hanging like ornaments from the living room light. Quaint windows, few as three, squarish and rigid. The morning gleam now transforming into the midday autumnal shine shot rays of golden starlight into the abode. It was small, yet cozy all the same. A true artist¡¯s home. Brushes lay drying, their tips still damp with cleansing water. The striking smell of paint stung Ma¡¯at and Sato¡¯s nostrils as they walked further in. The front door came to a silent close save for a metallic click of the lock being pushed up and over the tumbler.


    ¡°Welcome in. I¡¯ll lead you to Rosaline¡¯s room, u-unless you¡¯d like something to eat and drink first?¡±


    They both shook their heads no, though Sato was much more downtrodden in her refusal.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s alright. Sato doesn¡¯t need to put on any more pounds,¡± Ma¡¯at mused, a nefarious gleam in her eye.


    ¡°Pff. Speak for yourself,¡± the Maiden of the Rain retorted. She shook her head dispiritedly.


    Reina giggled. It was such a quiet, somber laughter, as if she hadn¡¯t laughed in a long time. ¡°Hmhm. You two seem to be good friends. That¡¯s great. Work with those you love makes time fly by.¡± Her words dripped with melancholy and she fell into wistful thought.


    ¡°We¡¯re not friends,¡± Ma¡¯at objected. ¡°We¡¯re¡­ coworkers.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re friends,¡± Sato confirmed, ignoring her colleague. She closed her eyes briefly and nodded as if to say it was common sense and couldn¡¯t be refuted in any way, shape or form. ¡°She just likes to be¡­ difficult sometimes. But I know she loves me!¡± Sato reached out to pet Ma¡¯at¡¯s hair, but her hand was swatted away.


    ¡°The sooner we finish this job, the sooner I can get away from you.¡± She stared at Sato coldly, then glanced back at Reina. ¡°Please, take us to your sister. I just want to ask her a few questions. If it¡¯s true she had nothing to do with it, then as you said, we¡¯ll be in and out, quick.¡±


    Reina clasped her hands anxiously, but conceded with a deflating posture. Her shoulders relaxed as a tiny spark of hope reignited in her chest cavity. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Creak.


    Reina¡¯s hand pushed open the door to her dear sister¡¯s bedroom, a deft gust of wind blowing back a dry tree branch. A glimmer of sunlight lit the otherwise shadowy room. Atop the bed, bundled beneath layers of covers and warm cloth, was the suspect. Her long, black hair rippled like waves of the Void Sea across her pillow. Her closed eyes were two small slits featuring wispy eyelashes that curved upward. A cute smile adorned her face. A pair of glasses similar to Reina¡¯s sat cross-armed on her bedside table. A wilting rose was near it in a pot. A white-speckled one.


    Identical. Identical to the ones at the crime scene, Ma¡¯at pondered. She crept to the girl¡¯s side and pulled over a pale oaken chair to sit on.


    Sato stood near the doorway, behind Reina, examining what was to come next. An interrogation? An interview? It was unknown to her whether Ma¡¯at truly suspected such a young, sickly girl to be the perpetrator. Perhaps she was missing something. Missing something that Ma¡¯at had already noticed long ago. She clearly had a plan, and an idea of how such a sorry woman could possibly kill a healthy man in his twenties. Or¡­ maybe she really suspects Reina. Maybe all of this is just to get her to confess.


    ¡°Rosaline,¡± Reina chimed. An almost motherly tone had overcome her previously solemn way of speaking. ¡°Wake up, sis. You have guests. Two nice women from Vroque. They wish to speak with you.¡±


    ¡°Mmhm,¡± the girl croaked sleepily. ¡°Reina¡­? Is it morning already?¡± Stirring from her half-dreaming fugue, Rosaline turned her head to where Ma¡¯at and Reina sat waiting. Then, she finally opened her eyes.


    A spine-entangling chill gripped Sato all at once as she met the raven-haired woman¡¯s gaze. Her corneas were a deep, deep mixture of both vermilion and crimson colors. Black webs nearly invisible crawled across them, as if a nest had settled in the otherworldly scarlet hue. She felt as if she were standing on an ancient precipice, on the edge of a doorway leading to a realm unlike her own. She thought she heard a strange musical note ring in her mind, but no sound could be heard save for the mumblings of the waking lady.


    ¡°Did I tell you, Reina? Yesterday, I looked out this very window and out onto the street. I saw the most beautiful woman. A lady in blue. She seemed very sad. Like if sorrow were given a female form. I wanted to tell her that she would be alright. Even someone as sick as I am can keep her spirits up. She was much too beautiful to be as sad as she was. Her dress, too¡­ what a beautiful make. I wonder if we could find the splendid seamstress who crafted that wonderful thing¡­¡±


    Reina listened to her sister with a small, cheerful half-grin, but it was clear the words she heard were a sign Rosaline was not getting any better. She turned and whispered to Ma¡¯at. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, detective. This is how she is. I hope she can answer your questions now.¡±


    Ma¡¯at pushed herself off the chair a bit to study the room and the dusky window hovering above Reina¡¯s sister like a halo. ¡°Do you often look outside from here?¡±


    Rosaline nodded. ¡°To see him every day.¡±


    An eyebrow raised. ¡°Him?¡±


    ¡°Mhm. My darling Drosen. He walks this way back from late nights at the factory every morning. It¡¯s silly, the way he walks. He looks like a drunkard.¡± She gave a light giggle.


    Ma¡¯at¡¯s upper lip scrunched. An uncomfortable feeling began to stir in her stomach. She stared daggers at Reina for a moment, then turned back to the sleepy girl. ¡°You do know what happened to him, yeah? That¡¯s why we¡¯re here.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Rosaline blinked wildly as if escaping from her fatigue, but she still appeared dreamy as ever. As if reality was down the hall. Her eyes were detached, though the mention of her beloved tugged at her throat. ¡°What? What do you mean? What happened?¡±


    Ma¡¯at narrowed her gaze, firmly crossed her arms, and sat back on the chair. ¡°I think¡­ you know already. I think you saw him last night. Or, should I say early this morning?¡±


    ¡°Saw him¡­?¡± Reina suddenly questioned, exasperated. ¡°That¡¯s not possible. He walked from that way, and his body hadn¡¯t even reached-¡±


    The mercenary shook her head assuredly. ¡°Look out the window.¡± She pointed to it, then stood for a better angle. ¡°Really look. This morning, there was rain. Puddles lined the streets, and the running water from the lake ran all throughout Valeigh. I know because I was out this morning as well.¡±


    ¡°You were?¡± Sato wore an expression of blissful ignorance.


    Ma¡¯at nodded. ¡°I went to the cafe. I couldn¡¯t sleep, as usual. But that doesn¡¯t matter. What matters are the reflections.¡±


    ¡°The¡­ reflections?¡± Reina replied.


    ¡°The window looks out onto the street. The street had many puddles. The puddles mirrored the lantern oil pooling in the lights. A complex string of reflections mirroring reflections mirroring reflections mirroring reflections. There must have been one string that led all the way down the street. Through the store windows, and finally, to the lantern light and mirror on that fateful post.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about!? Don¡¯t you realize how insane you sound? What does this all have to do with anything?¡±


    Ma¡¯at gazed downward, closed her eyes tightly, then looked at Rosaline again. ¡°Your sister killed Drosen. But I don¡¯t think she even realizes it. She must have-¡±


    ¡°...inherent magic,¡± Sato spoke up, eyeing the weary sisters sternly. ¡°She must hold power even she wasn¡¯t aware of. Only an Ocularis could be capable of something so¡­ terrifying. So easily destructive.¡± The Maiden tightened the tie beneath her ornate, onyx raincoat. Her own beautifully shining violet eyes shimmered like neon rain dripping down window glass. She tightened the grip on her umbrella blade.


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t understand¡­¡±


    ¡°You really loved him, didn¡¯t you?¡± Ma¡¯at asked Rosaline. Her visage was full of lonesome knowing. ¡°Emotions are volatile. You must have seen him and-¡±


    ¡°Stop. Stop it,¡± Reina interrupted. ¡°Get out. Now.¡±


    Ma¡¯at sighed in frustration. ¡°We¡¯re doing our jobs. You called us here, now-¡±


    ¡°I called you here to ask her questions, not arrest her on the spot without any evidence! Who can say if she even has such a power? Anyone on the street could, with your logic! Leave! Leave us be. Never come back.¡±


    ¡°Miss-¡± Sato started, but another hurtful pang and solemn note rang across the apartment.


    ¡°Dead¡­? Drosen¡­ is dead?¡± The world outside darkened. The window vanished from sight, and the room and all its furniture seemingly melted beneath her vision. Then, from underneath her bed, tendriling thorns and gnarled snares erupted outward. They scraped flesh, ripped her bedsheets, and carved gashes into the walls cradling them. ¡°I¡­ I killed him¡­? This morning¡­¡±


    An eerie silence.


    This morning¡­ I woke and saw the love of my life.


    ¡°Reina¡­ I saw an amazing illum outside today. He was¡­ beautiful. Handsome. But more than that. He was stumbling, and so I left the house to help him. I couldn¡¯t stop coughing. It was so embarrassing, but he just kept smiling.¡±


    And the next. And the next. And the next.


    Every morning, I¡¯d see that blissful smile of his.


    And I¡¯d dream of a life together.


    ¡°Rosaline, you don¡¯t even know him. Besides, you are much too sick to be going out every day. You know that. He¡¯s a factory worker, too. Don¡¯t get too close to him or he¡¯ll ruin your lungs even more.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s the kindest man I¡¯ve ever known. I think¡­ I love him.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a drunk.¡±


    ¡°I showed him our art. He loves it. He wants to help us.¡±


    ¡°He wants to steal it and steal our money. Haven¡¯t you learned anything from Mom and Dad? We can only trust each other. This city isn¡¯t some utopia like the Union makes it out to be. We knew that as soon as we passed through those towering gates.¡±


    When I see him next, I¡¯ll confess my feelings.


    When I see him next, I¡¯ll wrap my arms around him.


    When I see him next, I¡¯ll kiss him and give him my favorite rose.


    Giant, pungent roses flecked with stars manifested from the ends of the spiny brambles. Sinister, red thorns pointed out from the vines at every inch like gluttonous teeth. Rosaline¡¯s eyes glowed with crimson radiance.


    ¡°Ma¡¯at! Her Paracosm¡­!¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± She sighed deeply. ¡°The room is already three times the size. She¡¯s projecting a tiny portion of it onto the tenement.¡±


    They were in a black expanse. The titanous flowers rose high above the ground in the distance, hovering near Rosaline¡¯s muttering form. One of the snares wrapped around Reina¡¯s throat, constricting her breathing.


    ¡°Rosa- ugh- Rosaline¡­! Stop¡­! It¡¯s me! It¡¯s Reina!¡± she pleaded.


    Blind rage fueled the girl¡¯s actions, unable to discern family. Rage pointed inward.


    One of Ma¡¯at¡¯s twinkling noctite blades suddenly flew like a boomerang and cut the stem holding Reina in twine. She fell to the thorny ground, hundreds of what felt like miniature knives piercing her skin.


    Sato called forth a torrent of rainwater. The magical wellspring seemed to tear open the fabric of reality itself, though there was a much simpler way of understanding it. It was simply as if two seams of cloth were stitched together and transplanted onto the world they perceived. Sato¡¯s inner world and Rosaline¡¯s; they clashed, yet Rosaline¡¯s had the strongest hold on their surroundings. Still, the Maiden of the Rain sent the rapid stream down over the endless thorny branches and pushed them down. With two feet in her opened umbrella, she rode it along the water as if it were a motorboat. She pushed herself along with speeding waves, careening toward the wrathcursed Rosaline at a tremendous pace.


    ¡°It was an accident. I simply¡­ woke up and looked out my bedroom window. That¡¯s all I did. And in that fraction of a second, I saw him walking down that rainy, windy street again. I felt a flutter in my chest. Then¡­ blood. Blood and petals. And then I slept. And I dreamed. And I thought it to be a dream. What else could it have been? All a dream. Nothing if not a dream. It was the only logical conclusion upon seeing something so cruel and nonsensical. It¡¯s all¡­ but a silly, stupid dream. I¡¯ll cover it all in thorns! I¡¯ll break out and ensnare any who dare harm me! I¡¯m sorry, Reina! I know. I know I¡¯m sickly,¡± the roseate sister coughed hoarsely. A bit of blood dripped down her pale lips. ¡°I can¡¯t love another like Drosen. I can¡¯t sit stuck in this accursed room any longer. I have to leave!!!¡±


    Sato slashed and hacked the bloody thorns at the base of the monstrous rose garden. She managed to cut down one, but more tendril snares came down and wrapped around Sato¡¯s throat this time. They dragged her squirming body up and in front of Rosaline. Her eyes radiated ghostly red light. Her body had gone limp after her ranting.


    ¡°You must understand. Your mother. She didn¡¯t love you either. Not near as much as she loved other things. I can sense it. She¡­ abandoned you¡­¡±


    A vicious black shadow cast over the Maiden¡¯s face upon hearing those ugly words. Only the faint lights of her eyes gave form to her fury. ¡°No. She. Didn¡¯t. Mother DID NOT¡­ abandon me! Never say those words again!¡± she screamed. A thorny tendril covered her mouth. The one choking her and cutting into her throat tightened even more so.


    ¡°Yes. You were like me once. Sickly and left at home. You only made the lives of others harder. You made your mother work like a slave. Even the doctor refused to help. Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll make sure no one can ever love again. No one can be loved again. And thus, no one can ever be hurt again. Bereft of love, we can stew in depression, remaining unfeeling for the rest of our days. It¡¯s easier this way. Don¡¯t you agree, Reina? Come. I can do the same for you.¡±


    A tendril came for the painter, but Ma¡¯at¡¯s other blade swung forward and cleaved it in two just as it had with the other. Running through the jagged thorns wet with the flowing river, the mercenary called for her blades to return to her hands. And they did. She leapt and stabbed a blade into the side of the towering rose, then pushed off of it and threw her other blade at her ensnared colleague with deft precision. The noctite sword flew and slashed fervently at its mistress¡¯s mental command. The thorns were cut once more, and Sato was freed.


    Ma¡¯at wondered how they would possibly put an end to the endlessly growing garden. The garden of numbness, of unloving pain, of loathing serenity. For every rose, the stem was its heart. The nutrient-rich throat of the world. Of the painful love garnered. This malicious, thorned rose that had planted itself in such an innocent young woman had to be ripped out from the roots. It was the only way.


    With Sato¡¯s agreement, the two hacked as hard as they could. They carved their way through the stalks and the thorns and the bloody earth until they found the roots at the very end. They pulsed.


    Ma¡¯at took hold of the rotten, jagged tendrils and ripped them up as hard as she could. Until the very ends were in plain sight, straining to hold onto the girl¡¯s weary heart for dear life. The corruption wouldn¡¯t give until fully severed. Clenching her teeth, the Sirithisian sent both floating blades at the roots in her hands and below them. The fibrous strands were obliterated in two clean swoops. The pain and malice had been separated, though the grief would linger forever, clinging to her innocence like a disgusting tumor. However, that same tumor also carried the memories the two had shared. The emotions she had felt. The love she couldn¡¯t share.


    Finally, the roseate, apocalyptic inner world dissipated and returned to Rosaline¡¯s heart and mind and receded into the space between dreams and nightmares. It was over. Rosaline¡¯s breakdown had been stopped.


    ***


    ¡°Thank you, Ma¡¯at and Sato. Thank you so, so much. I can¡¯t fully express how truly thankful I am.¡±


    Back at the office, the two mercenaries spoke with Reina in front of the huge, wide window. The early light of evening licked the glass. The faint lights of stars had already begun to take off their blue masks and shine down from the darkening sky.


    ¡°No need,¡± Ma¡¯at said. ¡°The money is enough. It was just another job.¡±


    Reina¡¯s complex emotions showed on her face. She nodded, then gave them some more money.


    ¡°We can¡¯t accept this,¡± Sato denied.


    ¡°Yes, you can.¡± She pushed the pouch back into Sato¡¯s hand adamantly. ¡°I know this was just another job for you, but it was a success. You saved my sister from falling too deep. Saved her from drowning. From falling to a depth that I couldn¡¯t reach. I¡¯ll always be in your debt. And¡­¡± She continued, slightly embarrassed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for what I said, back home. You were right, in the end. And I berated you for nothing.¡±


    Sato gave her a heartfelt hug, then pulled away slowly. ¡°It¡¯s understandable given what happened. I only wish we knew what the Union plans to do with her. But we told them everything we know. If they choose to have some mercy, perhaps Rosaline will return to you sooner than we thought.¡±


    Reina gave her a sullen smile, but it was real this time. No creeping anxiety nor despair found its way into her heart. No miserable thorns nor constricting vines. ¡°I can only hope. But I know she¡¯s alive and well. And I know what you did saved her. After everything fell away and we were back in her room, she told me herself. To thank you two and offer anything. She even wanted you to take some of our artwork.¡±


    ¡°Hmph.¡± Ma¡¯at studied the painter¡¯s dour yet hopeful face with her fierce, hazel eyes. One of her hands rested on her right holstered blade. ¡°Maybe¡­ tell her to paint us something. When she gets back. We can invite her here, and she can hang it up. This place lacks personality, anyway.¡±


    ¡°True. It¡¯d certainly give Vroque some character, especially if it came from our first case,¡± Tien agreed. She was sitting on the couch opposite of them, going over a mountain of color-coded documents.


    Reina smiled, the dusk-brushed sky reflected in her spectacles. ¡°O-Of course! I¡¯ll remember and tell her when I see her. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll paint something beautiful. You¡¯ll see.¡±

 Chapter 9: Gone Fishing

    ¡°What led me to this moment of my life? How did you ever convince me to do this?¡± The dark-skinned mercenary woman spat out a few drops of lake water that the wind had carried into her mouth. A regretful grimace lay placidly on her face.


    The Vroque trio, upon Tien¡¯s insistence, had come to Larueszeradt for some fishing. With the Writer¡¯s insistence as well, Ma¡¯at had finally agreed. For a fleeting moment, she thought that it might have been fun. To see the famous Lake of Deceit. To dip her feet into the cold water. To stick her hands into the rushing waves and have a chance to find a shiny coin or two. But, no. Nothing was ever so glamorous for the Swordstress of Ironside.


    They stood on the rocky beach, watching tiny ripples in the water. The Lake of Deceit was clouded by fog the further one traveled into its center, but around the smoke and mirrors it was tranquil and glossy just like any normal lake. A decrepit sloop marooned on the sand sat stiff. A rough-feathered bird pecked at its hull.


    ¡°Why did you even want to do this, Tien? You¡¯re supposed to be the logical one. Didn¡¯t take you for a fisherman.¡±


    The petite brunette woman shrugged, her black suitcase making a rattling noise as she did so. The mist clutching them made her attire very slightly damp with moisture. ¡°Logical? This is logical, Ma¡¯at. Gargofin is delicious. It¡¯s also a delicacy, so it¡¯s insanely expensive. Thus¡­¡± She put a hand on her hip and glanced at Sato.


    ¡°...Oh, me? Umm¡­ thus we catch one ourselves¡­?¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± Tien praised. ¡°And it¡¯s not because I was craving it or anything. Well, I was. But, coincidentally, we had someone come into the office the other day asking us to catch a fish or two from the lake. This could mean big money for the company. Big money means bigger contracts.¡± Dollar signs practically flashed bright green in her sky-blue eyes. She rubbed her fingers together as if a wad of cash was between them.


    ¡°How much are you talking?¡± Ma¡¯at asked.


    ¡°For a gargofin? I¡¯d wager he¡¯d pay us¡­ 500 Kin? And that¡¯s just for one.¡±


    ¡°500!?¡± Ma¡¯at and Sato exclaimed in surprise.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get your hopes up, though. They¡¯re pretty rare.¡± She¡¯d done it. She¡¯d got them interested in fishing. Deep in her mind, she snickered. The plan couldn¡¯t be called cunning, as the contract had basically fallen into her lap, but she had gotten them to ask. ¡°But I¡¯m sure we could find a ton of cool stuff the further we go in,¡± she added.


    Ma¡¯at and Sato pondered, rubbing their chins, then turned and looked at the worn, beach-docked ship again. It would be barely any better than setting sail on a floating piece of driftwood.


    ¡°That thing¡¯s a death trap.¡± Sato slung her umbrella over her shoulder and rested it there.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that bad. It¡¯s just¡­ well-used.¡±


    Ma¡¯at walked over to the sloop and peered inside. There weren¡¯t any holes, but the wood had seen much better days. Well-used was an understatement. ¡°Yeah. No chance. A gargofin could flip this thing over in two seconds.¡±


    Tien pouted, clearly unhappy with how the conversation had pivoted. ¡°Okay, okay, fine. I get you guys. I hear ya. I¡¯ll just fix her up, then. Good as new.¡± She walked over to the sloop beside Ma¡¯at and crouched down to examine her case.


    ¡°You can do that?¡±


    ¡°I can do anything. I¡¯m a mage too, y¡¯know.¡± She then opened the case, plunging her hands deep within its cavernous depths. It was no ordinary suitcase, that¡¯s all Ma¡¯at could tell just from looking at it.


    ¡°Ooh, you¡¯re really serious about this, eh Tien?¡± Sato turned to Ma¡¯at, noticing the confusion plainly printed on her face. ¡°Tien¡¯s case is an Arcane Construct. She implanted the concept of infinity into it.¡±


    Ma¡¯at peered into the unfathomable abyss, still perturbed.


    ¡°Basically,¡± Sato continued, ¡°it can hold an unlimited amount of things. Well, probably unlimited. There¡¯s really no way of knowing if it¡¯s truly infinite, but there¡¯s a lot of crap in there.¡±


    ¡°You calling me a hoarder?¡± Tien snapped, still rummaging through the darkness. It seemed only she could tell what she was sifting through. No contents were visible to the others.


    ¡°Yes, I am.¡±


    Tien ignored her friend. At last, she hoisted up the item she was looking for. It was a gilded hammer, less of a greathammer used for combat and more so a hammer used for construction, though it was still quite large in size. A gray skull was inlaid on both sides of it. Its empty eye sockets glowed a ghostly teal blue.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Ma¡¯at stared deeply into the golden gleam of its surface. The flat end and the spike on the other side were gray like the skull.


    ¡°It¡¯s called a Hammer of Reparation. It¡¯s a timelost artifact. A relic from a distant age. And, if used properly¡­¡± With that, the meticulous woman reared back with the hammer, staring intently at the hull of the ship. In one swift motion, she swung the flat end straight into the side of the sloop.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Ma¡¯at cried, fearful that her action would damage the vessel even further.


    Thud!


    The mercenary opened her eyes and relaxed her outstretched arms as she witnessed Tien¡¯s handiwork.


    The sound of creaking wood and buckling planks let out as the sloop crumpled and folded in on itself oddly. Malformed, it reconstructed in a shining golden light and reappeared where it was as if nothing had happened. On the contrary, a great change had occurred. The wood was now strong and appeared brand new. No straining could be seen in the hull nor any cracks in its frame. It was as if time had been reversed for the boat alone.


    The others stared blankly, stricken with awe.


    ¡°There we go. Good as new, just like I said.¡± Tien threw the hammer back into her suitcase like it was nothing, closed it tight and locked it, then knocked on the ship for emphasis.


    ¡°Where did you find a relic like that?¡± Ma¡¯at¡¯s question wasn¡¯t in earnest curiosity as it often was. Her voice was deadly serious.


    ¡°Trade secret. All I can say is that I¡¯m quite familiar with the Technicist underground.¡±


    It was clear as day that it wasn¡¯t the answer the Sirithisian was looking for, but she shook off her mood and let it go for now. ¡°Fine. What are we waiting for, then? Let¡¯s push it into the water.¡±


    Sato and Tien nodded in agreement, taking the sloop¡¯s side and gripping it firmly. It was lighter than they thought it would be, and with minimal effort they picked it up and slid it through the fine rocks in the beach and into the lakewater with a rocking splash. That isn¡¯t to say that it wasn¡¯t exhausting to any degree, though in comparison with the work Ma¡¯at had done again and again for measly wages in the past, the action had little effect on her. Her psyche was battered for another reason, one that still plunged her head into aching sludge. It was simply the sheer fact that they were here at all, fishing, when there had to be countless other jobs more worth the money and effort to do in the city.


    As she pondered this and kept her thoughts to herself, the grand gleaming towers came into view over the shrouded misty water unraveling before the piercing arrow of the sloop. Reville stood over all of this part of the east. The Union, Ma¡¯at had heard from Tien, came from the countless shattered islets and islands off the coast of the main continent. Only in the last couple decades had the Union traveled through the treacherous Tides of Terror, through the ineffable Void Sea, and made land on the very same coast they found themselves now. They had made huge strides, and it was then that they found a hole leading deep into hallowed ground. A section of the vast Technicist underground, hidden from sight and from mind, men and creatures that roamed the land for ages. It gave them the properties needed to leap from a primitive era to one filled with incredible technological advances, not only for modern life but for magical use as well. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Larueszeradt, the Lake of Deceit, was but an inkblot on the side of the canvas. A canvas covered in sickly black ink, though not entirely. From the lake¡¯s edge, water ran to Reth¡¯s Arc, a split river. One arm of the river led to the Bloodspike Rapids and the eternal forest surrounding it, and the other led into the vicious sea.


    ¡°Headache?¡± Tien appeared in Ma¡¯at¡¯s view with a raised eyebrow. A tiny, kind smile manifested itself on her lips.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine,¡± Ma¡¯at grumbled, turning away. ¡°How are we moving, anyway?¡± She looked over the gunwale, inspecting the rushing water beneath them. The sloop was moving fairly fast, and almost no wind was in the air to push them along.


    ¡°Sato,¡± Tien said simply. ¡°She¡¯s pushing us along with her magic ever so slightly. Guess we¡¯ve gained a lotta speed pretty quick.¡± She joined Ma¡¯at and crossed her arms along the wooden railing, gazing out. The water was a deep black, as if the seafloor was lost long ago. ¡°Hey, you never told me what happened after you saved that girl.¡±


    ¡°Hm? What girl?¡±


    ¡°That woman¡¯s sister, Rosaline. She was arrested by the Union, I¡¯m guessing. But what about everything else?¡±


    Ma¡¯at gave her a half-hearted shrug. ¡°Not much else to say. There was some damage to the tenements, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking.¡±


    Sato could be heard chuckling to herself from across the deck. ¡°A little more than some damage. Raphael was furious with us. It was quite funny, honestly. It really wasn¡¯t that bad, though. Some massive stalks and thorns grew through the building, but no one was hurt.¡±


    ¡°Thorns?¡± Tien repeated slowly, confused.


    ¡°The girl¡¯s Ocularis reflected what she deeply cared about. Reina had been giving her these special roses every day while she was sick. Chances are¡­ they were only making it worse.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? She contracted something from the flowers?¡±


    Ma¡¯at shook her head lightly, the salty breeze hitting her face like microscopic needles. ¡°The sickness wasn¡¯t real. Or, at least, it was real, but it was caused by her Ocularis. The magic was too powerful, and it was trying to find a way out. If we hadn¡¯t set it off and saved her¡­ well, Reville might¡¯ve been covered in thorns.¡±


    ¡°Damn,¡± Tien muttered. She rested her chin on one hand, then sprung up and dropped her case in the center of the boat. Looking across the proportional black water, she took a deep breath full of briny air and kicked it open.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Sato questioned.


    ¡°We¡¯re close now. To the center.¡± She rummaged through the attache case yet again and pulled out two old-fashioned fishing poles.


    She was correct. The fog piling up at the center of the lake had gotten closer and closer, and now it started to collide with the ship. As if they were a plane penetrating a storm cloud, their tiny boat slipped into the veil of mist with ease. A serene silence muted the outside world. There was only the lake water, the fog, the three women, and the creaking sloop.


    ¡°H-Hold on,¡± Sato stammered. ¡°The lake was formed from sea water, right?¡±


    Tien nodded resolutely.


    The Maiden of the Rain¡¯s face turned pale. Even her violet, shimmering eyes seemed to dim in sudden fright. ¡°That means¡­ stuff from the Void Sea could be in here¡­¡± Shaking, she wearily grabbed a fishing pole Tien handed to her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Tien urged. ¡°There¡¯s nothing that bad in here. I¡¯m like¡­ seventy percent sure.¡±


    Sato dropped the pole and ducked down, peering over the railing like a scared kid. ¡°S-Seventy!? You said this would be a nice fishing trip! This isn¡¯t nice! It¡¯s scary!¡± Following her eruption of emotion, the ship came to a halt. Her concentration on pushing the ship along had been obliterated when faced with her fear of the ocean.


    ¡°Think about it. The river running from the sea to the lake isn¡¯t big enough for-¡±


    Boom! Creak!


    In that moment, a massive object rammed the sloop, knocking Tien out of her train of thought. They rocked back and forth, then settled after a while. A bit of water had been launched onto the deck, and some drenched Ma¡¯at and Sato. Despite her fear, Sato was completely invulnerable to anything the depths could throw at her.


    ¡°What the hell was that¡­?¡± Ma¡¯at grumbled, unsheathing one of her noctite blades.


    ¡°Probably¡­ just a rogue wave or something.¡±


    ¡°There are no waves!¡± Sato squealed, squeezing herself into the corner of the bow. ¡°It¡¯s a lake, dummy!¡±


    ¡°A fish?¡± Ma¡¯at posited.


    Tien¡¯s face suddenly flashed from absent worry to excited gluttony. She grabbed the fishing pole Sato had dropped and ran to the side of the ship with bestial haste. ¡°Could be! Please be a fish!¡± she cried, casting the line out into the unknown. It let out a satisfying plop, then faded into the ever-present ominous silence.


    ¡°Tien, can we go now?¡± Sato shuddered as she tried to parse the fog with her vision. The line extended outward for a few feet, then vanished in a pallid haze.


    ¡°No,¡± she whispered. Her attention was fully locked onto the pole in her hands and the thread piercing the ghostly veil.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s the gargofin?¡± Ma¡¯at asked, also in a hushed whisper. It seemed like she was interested in the art of fishing once more, pulled from her previous wistful fugue. The line quivered slightly.


    ¡°Could be, I don¡¯t know. But any fish caught is a fish gained. I¡¯ve gotta catch something today at least, or we¡¯re all staying late.¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡± Sato eked out from the corner, pouting.


    Tien shushed her and trained her eyes on the line. Further and further into the mist. Noises barely audible before met her ears, and she swore she heard water rushing beneath the surface. Something was coming. It had to be.


    Whirr¡­


    ¡°Woah!¡± Tien was pulled forward suddenly, though she maintained a firm hold on the fishing pole. Their very livelihood depended on the catch, after all. ¡°Got it! Urgh!¡± She wildly spun round the reel, wrangling the caught creature and yanking it up toward them.


    Ma¡¯at grabbed hold of the rod as well and the two women pulled with all of their might.


    Finally, the thing broke the water¡¯s surface in a watery hail of grime. The end of the fishing line and the hook that baited the beast led in circlets up in the air to its gaping, jagged mouth. It succumbed to gravity¡¯s unceasing pull and slammed onto the deck of the ship, causing Sato to let out a scared yelp.


    Ma¡¯at and Tien, exhausted, slowly peered down to examine their catch.


    At the end of the hook, gasping and squirming, was a fish that could only be visualized as prehistoric. It was a deathly white color with gills lined up in a row like sturdy-backed soldiers. Its teeth were gnarled and curved inward. The side of its head held a lifeless, black eye filled with ire. It would be over half as tall as Sato standing upright. A gargantuan catch.


    ¡°Is that¡­?¡±


    ¡°It is! It¡¯s a gargofin!¡± Tien cheered, grasping at Ma¡¯at as if in a dream. Excitement filled her smile and flushed her cheeks.


    ¡°No way¡­¡± Ma¡¯at stood staring in amazement. It was utterly huge for a fish. A creature such as this could surely live in the Void Sea and survive the swim down to the Lake of Deceit.


    ¡°Ugh¡­ throw it back in¡­! I changed my mind! We¡¯re going home!¡± Sato cried. Trying her best to avoid looking at the abyssal gargofin, she visualized the water beneath the sloop and began jettisoning them slowly back toward the lakeside.


    ¡°Alright, alright. We can go back, scaredy cat. We got what we wanted, anyway! Hey, Ma¡¯at! High-five!¡± She raised her hand instantly, readying herself for her coworker¡¯s return of the graceful gesture.


    With slight hesitation, the reserved mercenary slapped Tien¡¯s hand with just the right amount of force. A satisfying clap rang throughout the mistful air. She was glad to return the celebratory high-five. It was a team effort, and though she didn¡¯t show it plainly on her scarred visage, it had been a great deal of fun. Fishing, she thought, could never be an action of respite for her. At least, that¡¯s what she used to think. Now, though, she wasn¡¯t sure. Perhaps, just as Sato had given her a new goal to trek toward, Tien could help her enjoy things that she¡¯d otherwise ignore. The world was incredibly vast, and so much laid in store for them all that they couldn¡¯t even imagine. Though Ma¡¯at knew of the world and had been to the grand cities that marked places of safety, the outer reaches were just as much unknown to her as the murky waters below. It gave her solace, then. That there truly was so much to look forward to on the road ahead. Upon the path to find Camelia. Her flaming footprints, she guessed, must be very far from here. For now, however, she was content with idle fun.


    ¡°Welp,¡± Tien snapped her out of her sinking thoughts. ¡°Better store this guy before we get to shore. Don¡¯t want any idiots trying to steal him from us.¡± With that, she got Ma¡¯at¡¯s help and threw the albino gargofin into her case. Ma¡¯at marveled at its truly infinite storage capacity once more. It wasn¡¯t something you get used to in a day¡¯s time; a bottomless suitcase.


    Not before long, they came to shore and stuck the sloop on land just as they¡¯d found it. As the hammer in Tien¡¯s case drew away from it, the ship returned to its former glory. That is, former hideousness. It was just another shipwreck now.


    Walking back home, the trio chatted and ruminated about the excursion. Much of it involved teasing Sato, but some came from the Sirithisian merc herself. After the desperate dealings with Reina and Rosaline, such an enigmatic respite was just what they needed to recuperate. It helped, too, that the client paid them in full for the fish, though Tien found it difficult to part with the creature after it helped them create such a vivid, long-lasting memory. That, and she dearly wished that she could¡¯ve eaten the poor animal.

 Chapter 10: Clockwork Wonder

    ¡°Spinal fluid reflection at 85%. 95%. 100%.¡±


    ¡°Ahhhh! Ahh! Help me! Somebody help me! Plea-¡± A half-naked man strapped to an operating table screamed for mercy. A colorful strip along his spinal cord burst, exploding the back of his torso and rendering him lifeless.


    A woman near the table, shrouded in dark, sighed deeply. Strange apparatuses branched out from her body, some like a spider¡¯s legs and others bulbous and camera-like. Her fingers featured long, painted nails that faintly glowed in the gloam.


    ¡°Another dud, Voira?¡± Another shadowy figure, male, lingered behind the augmented woman. His voice was distorted by an angular, asymmetric mask.


    She sighed again. ¡°That disgusting goo you found in the underground didn¡¯t do shit like you said it would. Killed him as soon as he synchronized.¡±


    ¡°Old world tech is losing its luster,¡± the man replied, lightly shaking his head. ¡°The Union has stopped collaborating with us on that front. Seems like they have their eyes on a different prize. But that¡¯s not what I¡¯m here to talk about.¡±


    Voira turned to converse with him. He was leaning against the wall with crossed arms. He wore a puffy military jacket. ¡°Spit it out, then. Not in the mood for a long chat.¡±


    ¡°Hm. You know the Inkorpt has new competition, yeah? Iteration 7. They¡¯re calling themselves Vroque Investigations apparently.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± One of her audiovisual appendages cricked its neck and zoomed in on her fellow Nye Inkorpt affiliate.


    ¡°That gun-toting dumbass Cloak came into contact with ¡®em. Lost us the Gunblades case and all of their cargo. Chick there called the Maiden of the Rain. She threw most of it into the water. Rest got snagged by scavs from Indigo. Well, might¡¯ve been-¡±


    ¡°Blue Lotus,¡± Voira interrupted, though the man¡¯s next remark showed she had correctly finished his thought.


    ¡°Maybe. The point is that we¡¯ve got to send them a message. Need to make sure they understand never to mess with us again. That Vroque can never compete, and that the Inkorpt rule this beautiful mess of a city.¡± The man leaned over and unhooked a vial from his belt, then handed it to Voira. It was more shimmering ooze for her experiments.


    She took it, her nails clinking against the murky glass. ¡°This a real gig? Or you just itching to kill somebody?¡±


    ¡°Not me. You.¡±


    ¡°Me? I¡¯m not built for combat, Rei. Recon, okay. But not for fighting.¡±


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll tag along. Don¡¯t worry, I have a plan. We¡¯ll send them a contract using a different name. There¡¯s a group of psychos on the far side of the city, on the border of Indigo. We send them there. Then, we kill two birds with one stone.¡±


    The wicked woman grinned devilishly, peering into the vial¡¯s contents. A dull light illuminating her victim filled it with gross, glimmering colors. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m listening.¡±


    ***


    The shaded buildings on the slightly more affluent side of Indigo District made Ma¡¯at feel a pang of melancholy. Scruffy men in fine suits and cheap fedoras passed them on the street. Another day, another strange contract.


    ¡°What are we doing here again?¡± Sato asked. A question Ma¡¯at dearly needed to ask as well. Normally she¡¯d amuse the Writer by paying close enough attention to his wild, impassioned ramblings. This time was different. She had been far too tired to indulge him, and thus most of the truly relevant information had gone into one ear and out the other.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, Sato! Pay more attention!¡± Tien scolded her, as usual. A faint, sly grin appeared on Ma¡¯at¡¯s face, having dodged a bullet. ¡°There¡¯s rumors of weird people gathering on this side of Indigo. There¡¯s been a lot of disappearances here recently, so take this one seriously.¡±


    ¡°I am! And I took the last one more seriously than both of you! We could¡¯ve been eaten! Who knows what else is lurking in that godforsaken lake¡­¡± She took on a brisk pace as she remembered the eerie nature of the place and the grotesque gargofin they¡¯d fished out of its depths.


    Tien led the pack, with Sato trying to catch up and Ma¡¯at slightly behind her.


    ¡°You¡¯re such a baby,¡± Tien said with a giggle. ¡°Hmm¡­ I¡¯d hoped we could go back there soon, but the weather¡¯s getting colder.¡±


    ¡°Oh no~ What a shame¡­¡± Sato¡¯s words dripped with half-hearted sarcasm. She hoped they¡¯d never set foot near Larueszeradt again. Suddenly, a street merchant caught her eye. Sato looked upon a wide assortment of colorful crystals with a childlike glee. ¡°What do these do, sir?¡±


    ¡°Ah, they ain¡¯t magic if that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking. They¡¯re soap crystals from the Dusklight Depths. Supposed to make you smell good.¡±


    ¡°I see. For what purpose would smelling good serve?¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ well, I guess it might help in catching someone¡¯s eye that you¡¯re interested in.¡±


    ¡°Mhm! I see, I see! So if I purchase and use these crystals, I could seduce anyone?¡±


    ¡°Eh, that¡¯s not really what I-¡±


    ¡°Incredible. And once they¡¯re charmed, killing them is so much easier! Thank you, kind man. Here¡¯s 30 Kin.¡±


    The merchant stared slack-jawed at the coins in his hand. It was the first time in his life that he thought he didn¡¯t deserve money given to him in earnest.


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re really taking this seriously.¡± Ma¡¯at shoved an elbow into Sato¡¯s side in a jovial manner.


    ¡°Alright¡­ listen up. This is it. Client pointed us here.¡± Tien squinted her eyes to gaze into an alleyway lit in an orange hue. Flickering wire lights were hung on the walls leading inward. Almost as if it were a portal to another dimension, the air around it felt alien and mysterious. A crackling in the air. The foreign smell of grease and oil spilled out from it.


    ¡°This some kind of black market or something? What¡¯s with the festive lights?¡±


    Tien shrugged her shoulders. Her brown overcoat made a light scratching noise as she did so. ¡°I dunno. There¡¯s tons of weird people in Indigo. People from all over. That¡¯s what Reville¡¯s all about, right?¡± She smirked with her eyes.


    Heading down the lit alleyway, they came upon an odd tent. It was big enough to where it cluttered their entire path. More electric, wire lights were strewn across it. The bulbs flickered when they came closer as if they were alive and could sense the trio¡¯s presence. Glancing to the side, a wide assortment of shoes and other miscellaneous belongings could be seen strewn across the dirty ground.


    ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡± Ma¡¯at asked no one in particular, crouching down to observe the items. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°That is¡­ definitely strange, to say the least.¡± Tien picked up a leather-stitched shoe only to cover her mouth in disgust and throw it away. ¡°Ack¡­ it reeks.¡±


    ¡°Did the client say anything about this?¡±


    ¡°No. They just said they¡¯d heard crazy rumors about this alleyway. That nobody sane had dared to go near it within the past week. Any who did end up missing.¡± She turned her head to stare into the tent¡¯s entrance. Like a horrible dragon¡¯s maw, it sat open, drenched in darkness. Waiting for its next meal. Waiting for roaming fools to enter it and be trapped with no escape.


    A shudder ran down each of their spines, but such fear at the moment was mostly unfounded. Rumors aren¡¯t always trustworthy, after all. Mystery could warp and mutate anything into a horrifying monstrosity given enough people are marred by the intrigue it garners.


    Stifling such nonsensical fear, Ma¡¯at rose to her feet and walked toward the gaping maw. The others wearily followed. The path was wrought with pure black shadow, though there was some light. The tent seemed to lead into one of the old buildings. Perhaps one of them that was segregated from the rest, pressed into the middle of the district by the addition of other buildings. Forgotten and left to rot in the middle of a district that was already a stain and a blemish to the Union.


    Trusting in their suspicions and realizing it was the only way forward, they entered the mesmerizing marquee.


    It led through a man-made tunnel into an ancient factory. Across oaken tables and static, quiet assembly lines stood countless people dressed in tattered black robes. The same fiery, vibrant simmering lights burned in bulbs hanging like cobwebs from low rafters. The swarm of followers from an unknown faction gathered around the room discussing things unheard. It was as if the trio had stepped into an autumnal party, perhaps even a Christmas party, with the exception of the odd garments the guests had donned. The guests themselves were mysterious. They hid beneath their trashy cloaks as if they were naked without them; in fact, they might have been, as the clothes they may have worn before had been abandoned outside the festive tent.


    The forsaken people turned to peer into the hearts of the women from Vroque with curiosity and a twinge of scorn. They had entered the otherworldly place without their knowledge and without their permission. Ma¡¯at went to unsheathe her blades, but was stopped by one of the strangers suddenly walking toward them with raised hands. A sign of peace. The gesture one would make if they wanted to clarify that they wished others no harm.


    Indeed, the being meant no harm. As it lumbered toward them, hunchbacked, the trio discussed amongst themselves. They hadn¡¯t the slightest clue of what was happening, but the being would elucidate them promptly. It was humanoid in appearance. At least, at first. Once one could get a proper look at the creature, a detailed examination of it, their previous idea of its origin was scattered to the wind. Beneath the tattered cloak was a worn, fragile body made of teetering machines and clockwork malformations. Its head and face were hidden beneath a white sheet, though a faint red light shone through.


    ¡°STASIS. Apologies for the other acolytes, they were simply afraid you meant them harm. THESIS. I believe you are a peaceful group, however. You did not bare arms immediately upon entry. Though, I would ask you to lay down your arms before speaking with our Lord of Cogs. COMPROMISE.¡± The clockwork priest hung the part of itself that resembled a head down and put its hands together in prayer. Its hands emanated a mechanical clicking sound as they touched. Its voice was a bit higher pitched than they would have thought, though it had still gone through many croaking filters of distortion, like someone talking through a century-old radio.


    ¡°W-What?¡±


    ¡°Who are you people?¡± Sato asked the creature. She was the only one who hadn¡¯t been utterly dumbfounded by the entities they¡¯d stumbled upon.


    ¡°UNDERSTANDING. We are servants to the Lord of Cogs, our god and master. He has granted us a higher purpose and knowledge of the world. Our eternal repayment is in our blood, oil, and tears.¡±


    Tien walked to the front of the group, her surprise diminished. She elected herself as the mediator between both factions. ¡°I¡¯m Tien, and this is Ma¡¯at and Sato. We¡¯re from Vroque, simply to investigate a missing persons case. Can you tell us anything about that?¡± She brought out a clipboard from her dimensional suitcase, ready to take notes if necessary, as if this was all due process.


    Ma¡¯at and Sato looked at her, then met eyes with worried looks as if to ask each other whether or not they were dreaming.


    ¡°I completely understand,¡± Tien continued, ¡°if you don¡¯t wish to speak with us. Just know that our client, as far as we know, has no affiliation with the Union.¡±


    The being¡¯s neck cracked and sputtered. Gray steam blew out of an unseen vent on its body. ¡°ABANDONMENT. You seek lost souls? The souls of the bourgeois who have given themselves to our master?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®given¡¯? Are you all¡­ Enigmas?¡± Ma¡¯at looked past the priest and back into the corners of the room. The automatons tinkered with random objects on the dead assembly lines for seemingly no purpose other than entertainment. A tangled, slightly nauseating feeling came over her and plummeted down into her stomach. ¡°Did your master¡­ change you?¡±


    ¡°CONFUSION. I am unsure of what you mean by ¡®Enigmas¡¯. But what you have asked is true in a sense. Here, allow me to show you.¡± The trio followed the being to a mess of assembly lines. It flipped a switch located on the machine¡¯s side. As if its touch had given the machinery life, the mechanism roared and began carrying the countless items strewn across it throughout the building. ¡°This factory was once purposeless. Our master was once purposeless. Another youth, as we were, suffocated by daily life. Our natural instincts were eviscerated. Annihilated. Obscured. MEANINGLESS. Life had become yet another cycle of meaningless tasks. We ran along the treadmill of Reville until our lungs gave out. The demonic smoke from the factories deeper within dared us to live better lives. To search for something new.¡±


    To search for something new. The phrase rang true in Ma¡¯at¡¯s heart and mind.


    ¡°We were locked in an endless struggle for survival. But without power, money, or fame, we were fated to die in obscurity. KISMET.¡±


    ¡°Factory workers,¡± Tien said quietly, using a quill pen to scrawl across her clipboard. A fine printed piece of paper was clasped onto it to allow her to make small notes. ¡°This¡­ Lord of Cogs you mentioned.¡±


    ¡°AFFIRMATION. Yes?¡± The clockwork humanoid settled as it stood before them, its vibrating limbs lowering to a resting position.


    ¡°Did he kidnap these people? Did he kidnap you and transform you into¡­ this?¡± She looked at it with pity. Subconsciously, she tried to imagine what the creature used to appear like when it was human. The machine showed zero emotion on what could only be described as its face.


    ¡°DENIAL. No. He has made us into fine cogs for the everlasting machine of life on Aeos. We will survive as best we can. Without need or want of sustenance nor warmth. We are forever content with existence, creating machines and altering those who have yet to be altered. CLARIFICATION. None of this, however, is without consent. Those who do not wish for a life outside the cycle may continue to suffer eternally. The Lord of Cogs is passive, peaceful, and does not desire violence. Those who do wish to become one of his cogwheels are welcome, always.¡±


    Ma¡¯at rested her head in one hand, trying to make sense of it all.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you miss eating? Sleeping? I don¡¯t think I could ever give those up¡­¡± Sato examined the clockwork being¡¯s parts, taking ponderous steps around it.


    ¡°ASSURANCE. We require neither, as we are always content.¡±


    ¡°Well, sure. But don¡¯t you miss it? Coming home after a long day, jumping onto the couch, and falling fast asleep. Or eating delicious food with people you care about. Or finding joy in something abstract, doing something you love simply for the sake of doing it. I don¡¯t think I could handle living like that, even if it was forever. That seems a lot more sad than just¡­ living.¡±


    The once-human automaton sputtered again. A spark jolted beneath its frame. For a long while, it stared into the Maiden of the Rain¡¯s face with an emotionless expression. Even if it appeared emotionless, it was clear Sato¡¯s words had made the being think for a minute. ¡°TRUTH. You are not entirely wrong. There are times when I miss the fleeting indulgences of humanity. When I wish I could sleep and pass the time away instead of existing in it for every second. Once, long ago, I had the strangest dream. I was in a port town. I was friends with the love of my life. We ate fish every day. There was a large bridge that connected two tiny islands. HOME. The waves would roll in, and fish would fall from the sky. We hung nets across the great bridge, and caught hundreds of them. Thousands. I was¡­ happy. Very happy.¡± The being¡¯s orange eye flickered and returned to its robotic, crimson luster. ¡°REALITY. But that was only a dream. Dreams are as meaningless as the lives of the bourgeois. As the lives of all who toil in Reville for better pay, for better jobs. All meaningless things. It is better to be a cogwheel below ground, serving a purpose forever and always, than a distant, nebulous star.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t just a dream,¡± Tien remarked. She had stopped writing and placed her clipboard down when the being had shown personality. ¡°The Isle of Kohru has terrible storms. They dip down into the sea and rush upward, throwing countless fish across the ocean. I¡¯ve heard that islanders sometimes set up nets and try to catch stray ones.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Sato asked, bewildered.


    ¡°Then, could it be¡­¡±


    Tien nodded and spoke before Ma¡¯at could finish her sentence. ¡°It could be a memory resurfacing. You could have lived there before¡­ well, this.¡±


    ¡°KOHRU. A¡­ memory? That is not possible. Our Lord makes us fit for operating as Cogs. We are Cogs, through and through. This¡­ island is naught but a fairytale.¡± The sound of multiple sparks rang out as the being turned away from them. Its heavy metal feet stomped across the concrete floor. ¡°FOLLOW. Come and meet the Lord of Cogs. He will speak clearer than I. He is no longer tainted by false dreams.¡±

 Chapter 11: My Pocketwatch Bleeds

    After conversing with the lone Cog dressed in priestly attire, the trio did as they were told and followed it to their master.


    Now, Ma¡¯at felt quite ill and lethargic. As the hazy lights of the crowded factory flitted across her lenses, unfocused and identical to fireflies dancing in the night air, she ruminated. What was it like to give up your humanity? How had they done so? No procedure known to commoners could change a person¡¯s outward appearance so drastically. Not to mention erasing memories and personalities. Even through the art of magic, such things were evoked only by the most skilled mages, wizards and witches. Only a witch with dark intent could herald something so emotionally destructive. To be erased from the mind was a fate far worse than death. To be wholly separated from the construct, from one¡¯s own body, and left out in the void of non-existence. How cruel it would be to leave a person¡¯s physicality in the land of the living while its consciousness is ripped from it like a rotten tooth. Terrifying. Horrid. But, then, how did they manage such a thing? Perhaps their leader, the Lord of Cogs, was once a man as well. A man who had undergone the same transformation Rosaline had gone through days prior, except permanently. A breakdown of seismic proportions. Their Lord of Cogs, she concluded, must be an Enigma. It was the only logical conclusion.


    The Cogs moved out of their way to open the path. Past the assembly lines was a set of iron double doors. The Cog leading them pushed the doors apart with immense strength. They moved into the new room, an old storage area for machine parts and broken tools.


    ¡°I wonder what this factory used to make,¡± Sato pondered aloud.


    ¡°CREATION. Some of our kin once worked here before relinquishing their humanity. Sometimes they tell of endless days crafting rotor engines for the regime.¡±


    ¡°Hmph. Airship engines.¡± Ma¡¯at scanned the towering stacks of boxes upon boxes. Each of them had to be filled to the brim with steel, wire, screws and such. All of it, abandoned entirely. ¡°Did the Union run this place? Why did they leave it?¡±


    ¡°CHAOS. Rioters. Criminals. Murderers. It was not a safe work environment.¡±


    ¡°For the workers?¡±


    ¡°For the Union. Come. The Lord of Cogs awaits.¡± The leading Cog left them and motioned for them to climb a rusty, mangled staircase.


    ¡°One sec,¡± Tien chimed. She ran forward and equipped her Hammer of Reparation from her case, then hit the ancient metal stairs as hard as she could. A reverberating, resonant echo flooded the building. The mangled stairs erupted into a golden glow, then settled and the light faded. They were rustless, completely gray steel and seemed as though they had just been bolted to the frame.


    Ma¡¯at and Sato stared at her.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Was that really necessary? You know, using magic willy-nilly like that is kind of unprofessional.¡± Sato smirked.


    ¡°Whatever. Those stairs were about to collapse, and I¡¯m not interested in breaking a leg anytime soon.¡±


    Tien packed up her hammer and the trio ascended the repaired stairs with more questions than answers clogging their thoughts.


    At the pinnacle, another clockwork humanoid stood in waiting. As he turned around to face them all, he revealed himself to be holding a large staff. Unlike the others who covered their faces with rags and sheets, this one had his head completely uncovered. Beneath an elegant, scrappy black mantle he wore a fine suit like the multitudes outside the walls. Though, his was torn in places, stitched in others, and oil and grease stains were apparent on its surface. It was as if a homeless person had attempted to come across as luxuriously wealthy. Maybe that was the point. Maybe it was ironic, placidly worn to symbolize the strange creature¡¯s view on the world. To make it all the more striking, his head had been replaced with a giant cogwheel. Inside the cogwheel, countless other miniature cogs worked tirelessly. Within them, even smaller cogs. And within those, microscopic cogs held them up. Endless, infinite cogwheels spun around and around to make the humanoid move.


    He did move with a certain grace. The spinning grew louder in tandem with the more complex actions he performed. He took a few wide steps toward the trio, the infinite cogs whirring ever louder. Then, a voice came from them. A scratchy, stilted voice, but a voice nonetheless. It sounded almost like someone speaking through a spinning fan, but low and distorted like the Cogs in the other room. ¡°Welcome, dear guests, to our humble abode. I am the Lord of Cogs.¡± He gave them a pleasant bow.


    ¡°Quite the home you¡¯ve got here,¡± Sato replied first, amiably. Even to a talking cogwheel, she was polite as ever.


    ¡°Hmm. My thanks. Pardon me, but are you the Maiden of the Rain? I was trying to figure out who you were and I believe I¡¯ve finally gotten it.¡± The cog that acted as his head turned slightly in anticipation.


    ¡°Mhm, that¡¯s me!¡±


    ¡°Ah, I knew it. Incredible. I have to say, you have made Reville a much better place to live. The alley stompers, the orphans¡­ you¡¯ve helped them a great deal.¡±


    ¡°Aw, thanks. I¡¯m just doing what I can. What¡¯s the point of making it out of the slums when you can¡¯t give back, right?¡± Beneath her shining smile, Ma¡¯at could tell, was a wash of tears. She couldn¡¯t understand why, but the conversation pained Sato more than she was letting on.


    The Lord of Cogs tilted his cogwheel in a nodding gesture. ¡°True, true. Very true indeed. Well, you have all come at an opportune time. I¡¯ve been discussing things with the local miscreants, you see, and it seems as though the Union has taken an interest in beings such as I. Such as us.¡±


    ¡°The Union is interested in Enigmas?¡± Tien asked.


    ¡°Quite. They have sent a few goons to my abode these past few days. One of them, a golden-haired pup, dared to injure my helpless Cogs. Despicable, really.¡±


    ¡°Raphael¡­?¡± Ma¡¯at uttered.


    He turned to her. ¡°You know him? I¡¯d like to ask you to kindly slap him across the face next time you see him. A tortuous person to talk to, he is. Unsavory personality. Incredulous. But quite the looker, I¡¯ll give him that.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have anything to do with him. Well, technically, Ma¡¯at and Sato here did work with him on a job a while ago. But Vroque itself simply accepts contracts from any source, be it the Union, an agency, a gang, whoever. What we want to know is where those missing people went. We know they used to live here. They were poor folk, like all of you once were. But your Cog downstairs told us you don¡¯t convert them against their will, correct?¡±


    ¡°That is correct, yes.¡±


    ¡°Then, have you converted a mass amount of people recently? Or¡­ have we followed the wrong thread?¡± A lump grew in Tien¡¯s throat. She worried that they really had wasted all this time interrogating innocents.


    ¡°We have converted a good many. I believe that this job you are on probably does pertain to us, yes. But let me ask you something: what is it that you intend to do with that knowledge, hm? My Cogs do not want to return to their past lives. To them, such lives were torture. Pure, abyssal darkness in which there is no escape other than a loaded gun. I do not speak of normal sadness, normal discomfort with one¡¯s life. I speak of the Dark, the unfiltered Dark. The spaces that the Blissful Sleep cannot soothe. The darkness that cannot be burnt away with shallow, vague promises of a starborn casket upon one¡¯s death. No, true darkness is not the absence of hope, my dear. It is the promise of it, the leading of one¡¯s future with it, entangled in it to the bitter end with love at its center. And oh, how it does end. Then the Dark cuts the thread, and we fall into the black abyss with no ledge to grab. No safety net. There is only the invisible moonlight, the whispering at the edge of oblivion¡­ and then¡­ poof! You¡¯re back¡­ with a cog for a head.¡± Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    The trio stood in stunned silence with no idea as to how to respond to the elegantly strange man.


    The Lord of Cogs reached into his suit pocket and drew out an antique, bronze pocketwatch. Black ichor dripped from its shattered face and created a tiny puddle at his feet. ¡°Haha. Would you look at that? My pocketwatch bleeds the same hue as your hair, my friend.¡± He stared directly at Ma¡¯at and her fluffy, onyx head. ¡°Those sadistic sycophants will NOT take me nor my Cogs. I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re working for them or not, the time to act is now. If I do not, I could lose all that I¡¯ve built. Without my Cogs, we are doomed to perish without even a record of our names. Don¡¯t you understand that, Maiden of the Rain? Some of us are not so lucky. Many of us will die without fame or fortune. But not if I have anything to say about it.¡±


    Sato was downtrodden and adrift in her memories of the past. A dark cloud loomed over her form, and she turned away from the creature¡¯s rude remarks. Then, she spotted something hovering a fair distance away.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± Ma¡¯at reasoned with the Lord of Cogs.


    ¡°It¡¯s true! If you¡¯ll let us go, we won¡¯t do anything to harm them or you, okay?¡± Tien assured him.


    ¡°Over there! Look.¡± Sato pointed to somewhere far off, amidst the towering boxes.


    All of them turned their heads and traced her finger to a small, black object hovering in place. It was a robot, no larger than a human head, floating using a booster on its underside. It seemed to be made of jagged shards of noctite. The number nine was finely printed on its side, along with two lines on the bottom right edge. A single camera lens shined in the dark space that was its front face.


    ¡°Is that¡­?¡±


    ¡°A Nye Inkorpt drone? Out here?¡±


    ¡°I knew it!¡± the Lord of Cogs shouted. ¡°You are in leagues with those fools! The Union may be a nuisance, but you Inkorpt freaks have been stalking Indigo day in, day out! Time to end this!¡± With his false accusation seemingly proven right, he placed the pocketwatch into his staff and turned it counter-clockwise. Deafening sounds akin to music rang out in waves from the Enigma. He pointed his staff at the trio, then moved it to the hovering drone. Instantly, a violent cavalcade of gears erupted from the staff¡¯s end and shot out in a scattered torrent. It was utterly obliterated, sending flaming bits of noctite falling to the ground below. ¡°This is reprehensible! After this, we may need to move entirely. Reville is doomed. Doomed to fall to those capitalist, war-mongering idiots at the top.¡±


    They needed to stop the erratic clockwork man at once, before he killed them all. Before he destroyed everything in sight.


    He turned back to the trio with his staff. A reverberating, echoing energy orbited it. Chaotic energy within charged to lethal levels.


    But before he could unleash a deluge of chrono-electricity, Tien, with her petite yet quick form, had already run to his side. With a heavy swing, she smashed her briefcase into the Lord of Cogs¡¯ head, knocking him to the floor.


    Ma¡¯at was right there with her. With double black steel blades, the Sirithisian mercenary jumped on top of him and put both gleaming edges to his throat. Well, what could only be surmised was his throat. It was hard to tell which parts of him were truly affected by physical means and which weren¡¯t.


    ¡°I yield! I yield! Fine, you Inkorpt dogs! Kill me, then! It won¡¯t make any damn difference. The minutiae of everyday life will die out. This endless fight for wealth and prosperity¡­ I¡¯m tired of it. Tired of looking up every morning at those sputtering airships, the Enlightened Towers, yearning for a better life. Just end it all. End my suffering.¡±


    ¡°Shut the hell up! All this whining won¡¯t do shit for you or your followers. Now, look! We¡¯re not from Inkorpt, and we¡¯re not going to kill you!¡± Ma¡¯at¡¯s voice was full of urgency. She desperately wanted the man to calm himself so that she could do the same.


    ¡°You all¡­ really aren¡¯t Nye Inkorpt agents? Surely?¡± His cogwheels barely moved at all as if to signal that they were finally getting through to him.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Tien said. ¡°We really aren¡¯t. Inkorpt is a competitor, anyway. Why the hell would we work for them?¡± She tapped Ma¡¯at on the shoulder and grabbed the Lord of Cogs¡¯ hand. With more of his strength than hers, she and Ma¡¯at pulled him back to his feet and Sato handed him his staff. The pocketwatch had fallen out of it. It was on the floor a couple feet away, stygian blood still leaking out from inside the glass inlay.


    ¡°Well, then I am deeply sorry. Understand that there aren¡¯t many you can trust in the city nowadays. I don¡¯t just have myself to protect, but also my acolytes. My unjust violence was on their behalf. Please, if you can find it within yourself, do forgive me. I was wrong, and incredibly foolish.¡± He sunk into himself and leaned forward to emphasize his repentance.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Tien reassured him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder briefly. ¡°What really matters is who actually sent that thing.¡±


    ¡°It was definitely spying on us.¡± Sato nodded.


    Ma¡¯at leaned over the platform railing down at the cluttered abyss below. Burning refuse at the bottom let out wispy smoke. The remains of the drone generated a revolting, metallic stench as if it were a dead animal.


    The Lord of Cogs gripped his staff tightly. ¡°Incorrigible bunch of lowlives, all of them. I suspect there¡¯s more to this. They may-¡±


    Just then, multiple screams were heard. Distorted, pain-filled screams of machines leaking out of the marquee entrance.


    Everyone¡¯s blood ran cold. The cries echoed off of the walls and traveled to each and every corner of the cluttered, abandoned factory.


    ¡°No¡­¡± the Lord of Cogs muttered, sprinting down the repaired stairs and toward the shut double doors. As he reached a hand forward to open them, a being burst through and fell to the ground in front of him.


    ¡°ENEMIES. My Lord¡­ help us¡­ please¡­¡±


    The Vroque women caught up to him, peering down at the pitiful Cog pleading for life. It grasped at its master¡¯s feet as if it were blind, like a child trying to take hold of its father¡¯s finger. The machines that made up its tired, beaten body sputtered and sparked. The gears that made it move started to slow, then slow even more.


    The Lord of Cogs knelt down and took the acolyte¡¯s hand. Upon connecting, they let out a tiny click. ¡°Who has done this to you!? Is it them? Inkorpt!?¡±


    ¡°SAD. I¡¯m¡­ sorry my Lord¡­ I tried. It was all too fast. They are¡­ terrifying¡­ and I am¡­ sad¡­¡±


    ¡°Quick, Tien! Use your hammer on him! Before he-¡±


    Sato went silent as her friend solemnly shook her head. ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t. It only works on non-living things. These were people once. They still are people¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have something to help him?¡±


    Tien dropped her suitcase and began searching through it as fast as she could, scrambling for something, anything that could prevent the being¡¯s departure.


    ¡°REGRET. I had hoped, my Lord¡­ deep down¡­ that we could have gone someplace together. All of us. These travelers¡­ helped me remember a dream so very distant¡­¡±


    ¡°Do not speak, acolyte. We¡¯ll get you help.¡±


    The Cog shook its head in a staggered motion, its metallic amalgamated cranium scraping against the concrete floor. ¡°They have already helped me. The waves¡­ the sand¡­ the flying fish¡­¡± The gears in its body slowed to a crawl. ¡°...I can recall them all, at this moment. How much time have we wasted scuttling about in this dark corner¡­ when we could have been on the briny docks of Kohru¡­¡±


    ¡°Stay with us, Olin my man. We need you here. A Cog lost is a machine dismantled¡­¡±


    ¡°Kohru¡­ How many fish do you think we¡¯ll catch this time, Kara¡­?¡±


    ¡°Olin¡­¡±


    The Cog¡¯s sparking and sputtering stopped abruptly. The gears came to a sudden, rigid halt. Its blinking eye shrunk into a fine, red point until there was no light left. The Cog was eternally silent, an object without personality. A husk of a husk.


    The Lord of Cogs¡¯ head ceased its spinning. He slowly placed a hand on the acolyte¡¯s clothed, jagged body for a moment. A silent, passing moment.


    After the silence had gone on long enough, once anger had brewed in her heart and came to a boiling point, Ma¡¯at stepped over the deceased Cog and kicked the blasted doors back open in the correct direction.


    The sight made her wince. Countless Cogs cut apart and brutalized were left dangling off of walkways, stairs, and assembly lines. Their bullet-like digits hung from sparking wires. Their severed lifeless, abominable, mechanical heads left out in the open as if to make a mockery of their reclusive lives. Lives that simply wanted to hide in the dark, remain unknown to all, and continue on to the best of their ability. People who had been used as cogs all their lives. People who couldn¡¯t imagine a world of freedom for themselves, who had forgotten the very meaning of the word.


    Were they strange? Were they somewhat deluded? Were they clouded by their hatred of those on higher rungs than them on the ever-growing social ladder? Yes, she thought. But they didn¡¯t deserve something this horrible.


    And in the middle of the room, centered and surrounded by the mangled corpses of the clockwork automatons, was one Nye Inkorpt agent. A man wearing a jagged, asymmetrical mask and a puffy military jacket. In his hand was a vicious, glowing blade burning with azure starlight.


    The final stage of their plan had begun.

 Chapter 12: Return to Sender

    The agent known as Rei had started working for the Nye Inkorpt three years prior. A series of poor choices and near-death experiences eventually brought him to the doorstep, or, rather the underground lair of the Inkorpt. Sensing keen awareness and promising battle prowess slumbering within him, they sent him to the Hall of Misfortune, a subsection of the great Technicist underground where many would go to find valuables and other ancient artifacts.


    It was a pit of the unfathomable, of the unspeakable. Only those with a death wish or nothing left to lose would dare wander in and explore the vast abyss below ground. But the risk was equal to the reward. Though ancient terrors lurked far below, so too existed godly relics capable of raising an unknown, amateurish mercenary to levels they could barely fathom.


    So, he had done so. Even if he had never seen the lowest levels, though he was far in a way still a fledgling compared to his superiors, he had managed to procure one relic of meaningful power.


    ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± A dark-skinned woman had appeared after bursting through the double doors at the far end of the factory interior. Her eyes told the Inkorpt agent that she sought his death, while at the same time there was another feeling in them. An acceptance of sorts, perhaps for the lives he had taken. Though anger and hatred for the meaningless murders did ignite within her, her reasoning mind wouldn¡¯t let the flame consume everything. She had seen too many deaths of the same kind in all her years, and another couple dozen weren¡¯t enough to shatter what was left of her heart. It had become callous and apathetic, and despite the fact that she still felt saddened upon seeing the corpses, after a brief moment they became nothing more than another series of events that she would later regale the Writer with.


    Rei took a few wayward glances at the mercenary, her comrades behind her, the Lord of Cogs kneeling over the corpse of one of his acolytes, and his surroundings. A mountainous neon blue light on his mask twinkled as he turned his head. ¡°Ah, Iteration 7. I thought you¡¯d have heard the screams by now. Welcome in. You¡¯re a tad late, but that¡¯s alright.¡± A barely audible snicker was muffled beneath his metal visage.


    Ma¡¯at gripped her dual blades firmly. ¡°What¡¯s the point of this? You aching to die today?¡±


    ¡°To answer your previous question first, I¡¯m from the Inkorpt. Nye Inkorpt. And, well¡­ today we¡¯ve decided to kill one of you. Just to prove a point.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? And what would that be?¡±


    ¡°That Vroque is old news. Freelance mercs can ride around the world all they want. Eighty percent of the money they make is spent on themselves. But Inkorpt is the highest ranking merc group in Reville, even hired by the Union themselves. Vroque can never compete. Even your technology is outdated. Have any of you ever even been underground?¡±


    Silence followed.


    ¡°I thought not. I bet you¡¯ve never even glimpsed the Mnemosyne.¡±


    Ma¡¯at, confused, glanced back at Tien for an explanation or two, but none met her ears. Tien was oblivious and distraught, her vision still locked on the deceased Cog.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother asking. What matters more is how you treated the Gunblades that night not so long ago.¡±


    ¡°You know about that?¡±


    ¡°Of course we do. The Nye Inkorpt sees all. Nothing happens in this city that we aren¡¯t aware of. Our agent, you knew him as Cloak, was supposed to help them until they grew to be a big enough thorn in the Union¡¯s side. Once the Union contracted us to get rid of them, we¡¯d do it for a large sum. With a fellow agent in their ranks, it would have been trivial. But you all fucked it up. Today, we seek to show you that every action in Reville has long-lasting, rippling effects. Consequences that will inevitably catch and devour you without a second notice. High-level mercenary work is no game.¡±


    The irony of someone clearly younger than Ma¡¯at telling her such things did dawn on her, but she stifled what humor it brought. Even this overconfident brat must have an ace up his sleeve. There wasn¡¯t a doubt in her mind that beneath his awkward mask lay a wry grin. What was it, then? Something to do with his blade?


    It was abnormal. Technology Ma¡¯at hadn¡¯t quite seen before. Others like it, perhaps, but nothing identical. The shimmering sword glowed an azure color, and as it moved ever so slightly with Rei¡¯s hand, it almost seemed to multiply as if she were seeing double.


    ¡°Enough talk. Feel free to have your allies join you, it won¡¯t matter. One of you has to pay for your crimes against the Inkorpt.¡± Rei readied himself, entering a battle stance.


    His rapid advance was quickly blocked by one of Ma¡¯at¡¯s outstretched blades. It was all she needed to stop him.


    With a screeching slash, Rei doubled back, sidestepped, and slashed at her multiple times. Strike after strike. Each time noctite met starlight, a burst of tiny explosions let out from the clash like beautiful fireworks.


    ¡°Is this all you can muster?¡± The Swordstress of Ironside locked blades with him again, yet slid forward and fell to her knees beside him, readying herself. In one smooth motion, she kicked him forcefully in the side, a blow that launched him backward. He heaved before getting back to his feet. Muffled exasperation. The fight was already taking a toll on his stamina.


    ¡°Tsk¡­ fine, then. Voira! Get down here and help me.¡±


    Ma¡¯at, with crossed blades at the ready, stood in a defensive position waiting for the man¡¯s own ally to come to his aid. Yet, after many seconds, no one came.


    ¡°Voira!?¡± Rei looked up at the rafters, then at the open door at the other side of the factory. ¡°That bitch¡­!¡±


    The betrayal seemed to cut the man deep, but it was of no concern to Ma¡¯at. She simply wanted Rei dead. It was the only thing on her mind in the frenzy of battle.


    ¡°...I¡¯ll be sure to let our boss know about this.¡± Rei gripped the zig-zagging metal hilt of his sword. His gloves tightened. ¡°You¡¯re more skilled than I thought, Ma¡¯at. I¡¯ll admit that. But your blade levitation, the magic imbued in those swords of yours¡­ it means nothing if you don¡¯t use it to the fullest.¡± As if to show her what he meant, the hilt he grasped glowed with more azure light. The zig-zag pattern on it filled with radiant color. The lights in the factory seemed to dim, the blinding wires sizzling to pinpricks of auburn chromatics in the dusty air.


    Sato left the Lord of Cogs and Tien where they were and stood beside Ma¡¯at.


    ¡°You don¡¯t fight with enough fervor. Relics of the past were ultimately activated by emotional turbulence, after all, just like all magic. There¡¯s a point where any advanced technology could seem like magic to the untrained eyes. That¡¯s what lies in the underground. Nothing can prepare you for the things down there. Reville is sitting on a goldmine. Caverns of age-old relics unseen since the ones found beneath the desert. Below Sirithis.¡± Electricity burst from Rei¡¯s helmet. More radiant, cyan light grew within his blade until it was the most blinding source of light in the room. The orange and red wire lights the Cogs had set up had all but been drained of their energy, empty and dead as those who lay strewn across the catwalks and broken-down machinery.


    ¡°We don¡¯t give a shit, kid. We¡¯re all just trying to survive. We never meant to be a threat to the Nye Inkorpt.¡±


    Rei cackled beneath his vibrant mask, his hostility made manifest through the sparks leaping from his form. ¡°I don¡¯t think you understand. There¡¯s another war coming. Someday, the other cities will come for everything Reville has. And not just the cities. Crazies across the continent. The way Inkorpt ensures its survival is by sticking as close as possible to the Union. We can¡¯t do that with Vroque eating up all the contracts!¡± Layered mirror images of Rei¡¯s starlight blade replicated before their eyes as he launched toward them. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Clashing with him again, Ma¡¯at realized just how strong he had become. Every strike as they crossed blades sent aching reverberations through her forearms, rattling her nerves. Despite his lack of proper fighting form, a certain overwhelming power had greatly bolstered his capabilities out of nowhere.


    No, maybe it had to do with the sword itself. Perhaps even the mask. The helmet¡¯s eccentric design with its odd, glowing lines looked eerily similar to Technicist equipment Ma¡¯at had seen in the past. There was no doubt about it, now. This man was a second-rate merc indeed, but he was being greatly empowered by magical technology that hadn¡¯t seen the light of day in eons.


    His emotions, too. The betrayal by his ally normally would have been the final nail in his coffin, but his fury only added to the strength garnered. He had entered a frenzied yet calm flow-state. Spectral stars seemed to explode and implode with every swing of the serene blade. In the darkness, it was actually quite a wonder to behold.


    But Ma¡¯at wouldn¡¯t allow herself to underestimate an opponent again. She wouldn¡¯t let her guard down for a second. The last time she had done so, even after prevailing against enemies far weaker than herself, the other end of a rifle had sent her spiraling into unconsciousness.


    Another starlit clash sent azure sparks flying. Sato took a lunging step forward in an attempt to pierce the mercenary with her umbrella blade, but he evaded it just in time. More mirrored images seemed to split the merc into dozens of copies of himself. They were all false, distorted images, yet they all looked the same. It was too difficult to tell which one was genuine.


    Torrential rainwater gathered at the end of Sato¡¯s weapon, and upon lifting it and slashing across the room, her violet gaze aglow, vicious waves erupted from its end and splashed across the room. Reflected endlessly in the gloam of the collected rain, the images dispersed, glitched, and faded away as if they had never existed in the first place.


    With no other course of action, Rei charged with all of the power he could muster. Faint chimes accompanied his explosive surge. Speeding through the lowering water, he slashed slantwise at Ma¡¯at, breaking her stance and kicking her to the ground.


    Sato¡¯s sloshing rain splashed across her body. She was grounded. Before Rei could take advantage of the situation, Sato met his blade and met each of his clashes all the same. More radiant sparks let out and sizzled into the settling waves. With one final attack, they locked weapons, and Rei tried to pull away.


    But Sato opened the umbrella. The bladed edge unfolded and barely clipped his arm, cutting through his high-grade sleeve and carving into his flesh.


    Stumbling from the sudden pain, he cried out and threw his arms up, accidentally tossing the starlight sword over himself. It revolved a few times in the air and landed on one of the assembly lines.


    As he went to run for it, a streaking white pain ripped his back open. Hot anguish flooded his senses. It felt as if his body had caught on fire and had been frozen at the same time. A deep, deep gash had been carved into his back by Sato. His blood dripped and leapt from her umbrella, combining with the water it conjured.


    He fell to one knee, but still persevered. With the speed he had shown earlier, he launched toward the conveyor belt in the blink of an eye. There it was. The blade had clanked across the multi-faceted control panels and landed perfectly on its side. All he had to do was reach over and grab it. Grab it, then slash backward at his attacker. The Maiden of the Rain was right behind him. He could hear her deftly planted steps and faint splashing. All Rei had to do was reach, grab, and slash¡­ and he¡¯d kill one of them. That¡¯s all he needed to do. Then he could run.


    As his arm outstretched for his brilliantly gleaming weapon, his vision flashed red. The oozing of bodily fluid filled his ears. Before that, however, there had been a different noise. The sound of fluttering wind, of a faint instrument being played¡­ of a deadly object flying through the air. His entire body numb, he awkwardly raised his left hand to wipe away the blood blinding him. He pinched at his eyes, gathering the fluid between his gloved fingers, and flicked it away. Pushing it from his vision. Smearing it across his face.


    All that was left was a bleeding stub. His right arm had been completely severed at the elbow joint, chipped bone protruding through what was left of it. A clothed slab of meat bleeding profusely. He couldn¡¯t reach the blade anymore. He couldn¡¯t feel anything anymore. Ma¡¯at¡¯s blade lingered, floating a few feet away, then returned to her hand when she¡¯d realized he was finally defeated. He teetered, swaying back and forth, then fell onto his back and into a red puddle. The slight interference of the water with the technology on his head led to a violent eruption of energy that electrocuted him. Even then, there was nothing left of the man. No life. No energy. No soul.


    Sato took a few wet steps to stand at his side, lifting her umbrella. With a barely audible grunt, she plunged the watery lance into his chest and heart, killing him instantly.


    The factory was a mess. Though Sato¡¯s rainwater had long dispersed, many objects that had previously cluttered the floor were now displaced and left hanging and clumped up together in corners of the room. The bodies of the Cogs were gathered by them all and left laying on the ground beside one another. The lone Cog from Kohru was in the center, him and his fellow acolyte¡¯s heads still covered by tattered cloth.


    Tien, her case in her lap, stared blankly at the corpses.


    ¡°It¡¯s time to go,¡± Ma¡¯at said suddenly, slightly scaring her.


    ¡°...I could¡¯ve saved him, Ma¡¯at. Even if it was only one, I could¡¯ve saved him. I was just too slow. I couldn¡¯t find what I needed. Haah¡­ why wasn¡¯t I ready for something like this¡­?¡±


    ¡°No one could have seen this coming. Blaming yourself for what they did is¡­ just stupid.¡±


    Tien wiped clear tears from her cheeks onto her sleeve. She sniffled. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to be prepared for anything. Anything we need. That¡¯s what the Writer wanted. I¡¯ve already failed¡­¡±


    ¡°Listen,¡± Ma¡¯at cried, somewhat aggressively. She tugged on Tien¡¯s shoulder, and the weary woman peered up at her. The only wire light in the factory to survive Rei¡¯s draining ability shone over her dark hair like a halo. She coughed, settling her tone but still keeping her scolding serious. ¡°We can¡¯t save everyone. It¡¯s impossible. But I promise, as long as we keep accepting contracts, that I¡¯ll keep you, Sato, and the Writer safe. I can assure you that.¡±


    Tien nodded, her mournful look lightening up somewhat. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to let it get to me.¡±


    Glancing at the dead Cog that was the source of Tien¡¯s sorrow, Ma¡¯at carefully stepped over the bodies and barely lifted the cloth draped across what resembled its face. With a bit of effort, she ripped something out of it, then returned the cloth back to where it was before.


    ¡°What are you doing¡­?¡± Tien asked, slightly worried for her colleague¡¯s sanity.


    ¡°It¡¯s his eye. The one from Kohru,¡± she replied, revealing the item between her fingers. ¡°I thought you should keep it. In your case, I mean. And, one day, if we ever go there, we can throw it into the sea.¡±


    Tien smiled, grabbing the eye from her hands and studying it with a certain warmth in her face. ¡°Thank you, Ma¡¯at. I think he¡¯d like that.¡± She unclipped her suitcase, lifted it open an inch, and dropped the eye inside. It vanished, devoured by the endless void within instantaneously. Then, she closed it back up and finally came back to her feet with a revitalized disposition and new goal in mind.


    The Lord of Cogs returned, looked down at his acolytes passingly, then walked up to Ma¡¯at. ¡°I suppose¡­ this is where I take my leave.¡±


    ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    His cogwheel head spun and clicked several times. The lone light above painted him in a sad yet hopeful hue. ¡°Anywhere else. Somewhere far from here. I¡¯ve grown tired of living in this damn city¡­ and someone must dispose of the bodies. You all have made me realize that the version of Reville I want is, well, impossible. I have to accept that. But it doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t start anew. The world is large and wonderful. Certainly, there must be a place for us to thrive and dream. If any group can restore some light to Reville, it should be you Vroque fellows. I hear good things about other Iterations across the way. Behind the Enlightened Towers.¡±


    ¡°Where will you go?¡±


    ¡°That is a mystery. But mystery keeps life interesting. Those from the Nye Inkorpt may experiment, observe, and scientifically and systematically examine every little thing, but they¡¯re missing the point. Knowledge kills wonder. Having no answer at all is more comforting in times like these. So, I do not know. But that¡¯s what motivates me. The not-knowing.¡± As if he were smiling woefully, the cogwheel spun quickly around once, then ticked forward a couple times, then stopped altogether. ¡°Oh, I almost forgot. I know you¡¯ll be unable to finish the contract that brought you here, so take this. I have no need of money, no matter the place of my future.¡± He opened Ma¡¯at¡¯s hand and placed a large pouch in it. Coins clinked inside its leathery exterior.


    Accepting the money and thanking the Lord of Cogs, the women from Vroque left the factory and began returning home. Back to the office. Back from another strange, dire, unfortunate contract. There was the fear of Inkorpt. They had made an enemy of them a second time, of course, even if it wasn¡¯t by their design. They hoped that with Rei¡¯s belligerent actions and death that they would finally give up their one-sided feud.

 Chapter 13: Dragon Hatcher Gang

    The cold had rushed across the city with tearful teal wings. All of the trees had shed their vibrant hides, leaving thin bones and skeletal limbs reaching up like ill hands toward the saddened sky. Winter¡¯s grasp had begun its creeping siege over the eastern lands, leaving nothing but melancholy and unsure hearts in its wake.


    The office of Vroque Investigations, otherwise known as Vroque Company and Firm Iteration 7, was adrift in that same mesmerizing, sinking fugue. Though it was a time of joy and celebration for some, for others it was a season of painful memories, lovesick ruminations, and gifts ungiven. The time that had passed since the tragedy that befell the clockwork people of the ancient factory had helped to lessen the depression it garnered, but Tien wasn¡¯t so sure.


    Standing by the window, as he often did, the Writer looked out across the sullen avenues. ¡°Nearing the end of the year already. How time flies.¡±


    ¡°Too quickly,¡± Ma¡¯at replied from the couch, resting her eyes. ¡°And we still haven¡¯t gotten any contracts outside the city.¡±


    The Writer chuckled lightly, turning from the glass window. ¡°Yes, yes. In due time, dear Ma¡¯at. Muster up some more patience, if you can. Even I thought we¡¯d be travelling the world by now, but we still must prove ourselves first. Speaking of, there¡¯s-¡±


    Sato burst into the room, cutting off the Writer and sending the door that once was firmly shut swinging wayward and slamming loudly into the wall it was latched to. ¡°Ma¡¯at! Ma¡¯at! Let¡¯s play a game!¡±


    The languid woman lazily raised her eyelids, unshaken by her colleague¡¯s violent entrance. ¡°Hm? A¡­ game?¡±


    ¡°Mhm!¡± Her eyes gleamed with excitement. It was a wonder how the violet color that tinged them often shifted in luminosity depending on her mood. When she was half-buried in a mire of regret, the hue would lose its luster. When she was focused, they almost seemed like a window drenched in neon-colored rain. And now, when she was brought back to her childlike whimsy, they shone like two rays of light burning through a storm cloud. ¡°A card game,¡± she continued, laying out an array of playing cards out from her coat pocket and onto the coffee table.


    Fifty-some cards belonging to four suits; hearts, clubs, diamonds, and spades. They were made out of a scratchy cardstock material that glistened in the wintery afternoon gloam. Many of them were slightly torn, creased, and stained from years of use. Amid the rest, the deck also contained two joker cards. The images defining them featured a jovial Union entertainer sporting very old and outdated attire, at least compared to the standards in Reville.


    ¡°It¡¯s a game called Malarri. Some kids from Halei taught me it when I saw them playing on the street corner the other day.¡±


    Ma¡¯at looked at Sato with a suspicious gleam in her eye. ¡°Is this another gambling game?¡±


    The Maiden of the Rain avoided her gaze. ¡°No¡­¡±


    Ma¡¯at sighed deeply, falling deeper into the abyss that was the office couch. ¡°Not again¡­ Never again. You and Tien practically robbed me last time.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to play with money!¡± she argued. ¡°It¡¯s just a fun game, I promise. Here, I¡¯ll teach you.¡±


    With a weary nod of agreement, Ma¡¯at listened in as Sato taught her the fundamentals. It was a strange game in which players took turns putting cards into the center, while the other players bet on how many suits there were as well or how high the sum had gotten with all the number cards combined. The betting had to increase every turn. Eventually, on their turn, a player could call out ¡®Malarri¡¯ and challenge the bet of the player before them. If the previous player was wrong, the caller received money based on the bet. If they were wrong, the betting player before them got the money.


    ¡°Okay,¡± the dark-skinned woman said, hiding her cards resolutely. She placed one face down on the pile. ¡°...Four hearts.¡±


    ¡°Malarri!¡± Sato cried, slamming down her hand of cards. She flipped the center pile over and spread them out by suit. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ Two, three¡­ four!?¡± The woman winced as if she had been stabbed by a knife. ¡°Aw, man. I only played one. You had that many hearts¡­?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Haah¡­ of course I win when nothing¡¯s at stake¡­¡±


    Sato gasped. ¡°Wanna put some money on it, then!?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Ma¡¯at replied in her standard, mature tone of voice. ¡°The only way to win at gambling is to not play at all.¡±


    ¡°Hmph. Fine,¡± Sato said, sulking.


    The freezing wind outside picked up speed. The building creaked, and the faint sound of newspapers and small bits of trash outside careening through the streets could be heard.


    ¡°Those illustrious wings, free and evergreen¡­¡±


    Ma¡¯at turned her head from the windswept cityscape and looked over at Sato shuffling the cards. Her dark hair was tied up as usual. A small smile was at the end of her mouth as she softly sang a song.


    ¡°Singeing the sky, pale and pristine¡­¡±


    ¡°What song is that?¡±


    Sato turned to Ma¡¯at briefly, then looked back down at the worn cards in her hands. ¡°Something my mother used to sing to me on winter days like these. It¡¯s called¡­ The Wings of the Coming End.¡±


    ¡°It sounds¡­ sad.¡±


    ¡°It is.¡± Her hands slowed as if she had begun to forget she was shuffling cards, that she was sitting in the room, that she was years and years away from whatever memories Ma¡¯at¡¯s question had drudged up. Shaking her head, she continued to shuffle while looking at Ma¡¯at intermittently. ¡°Don¡¯t make that face. It¡¯s like you¡¯re looking at an injured puppy.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I can¡¯t help but think back to when we were resolving Rosaline¡¯s breakdown. She said some horrible things, and it seemed like she got to you.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s this about, hm? It¡¯s not every day that you¡¯re so interested in someone else.¡± She looked at her Sirithisian friend with a half-sullen, half-joking smirk.


    Ma¡¯at turned away with crossed arms, studying the gray wall of the office adamantly. ¡°Fine, then. Nevermind. It was a dumb thing to ask.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s okay. Rosaline was right, in a way. I was a sickly child. Mother spent much of her time keeping me from death¡¯s door. Catering to my every need while she suffered in silence. While we were stuck in the cesspool of poverty. But, she never abandoned me. Never. Even when things looked grim. Even when I was being a selfish brat who didn¡¯t know any better. She was the best mom I could have ever hoped for. She even begged-¡±


    ¡°Sorry to interrupt you two, but we have a pressing matter to attend to. I tried to tell you about it before¡­ well, before Sato¡¯s impeccable entrance!¡± The Writer raised one eyebrow as he spread an arm out in an act of showmanship. His hair was whitened and frayed by age. ¡°A quick contract to take care of today. The barman of an establishment on Halei Street wants to talk to you. Apparently, it has to do with a shady gang hanging around the place. He wants you to investigate it.¡±


    ¡°The bar? Or the surroundings?¡± Ma¡¯at asked.


    ¡°Either or. Preferably, you could try the bar first. He mentioned these shady characters are regulars, so there¡¯s a good chance you¡¯ll find them there.¡±


    Ma¡¯at and Sato turned to each other with unbothered looks, then got up from the card-covered table and began putting on their warmer clothes.


    Pushing her hair out of her face and over her newly donned, puffy jacket, Ma¡¯at asked, ¡°So what¡¯s the name of this place?¡±


    ¡°Inkwell,¡± the Writer replied. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ***


    The creaking street lamps seemed as though they were about to give in to the fierce wind tearing through the dimly lit streets. Ma¡¯at and Sato¡¯s shoes clacked quietly as they walked. Looking up, there were faint stars twinkling in the cloudy night sky, but there were also lights that held still as brilliant statues. They were, of course, lights of the ever-distant yet ever-present airships floating high up above the sleeping city.


    Just a couple minutes of solemn, quiet strides through Halei Street until they came upon the bar with the same name the Writer had relayed. ¡®Inkwell¡¯ was illuminated on a wooden sign out front. Bulbs with copper wire intestines were hammered into the sign, giving the pleasant, cursive letters a raven-black, almost violet glow against the polished wood they were written upon. When the wind picked up, the back of the sign would slam and bang against the establishment¡¯s exterior. Without any idea of what to expect, the duo entered the bar with some caution.


    Immediately, they felt the blazing warmth of candles. Candlelight was the main source of illumination in the bar. Many tables spread out across the room held in their center a lone column of wax stuck in a metal holder. Their wicks sizzled and burned down slowly like fuses on a bomb. Accompanying the tables, sat at them on the shabby oaken art pieces that barely resembled proper stools and chairs, were a wide variety of tough and scarred individuals. Some of them wore eyepatches. Others didn¡¯t bother and showed off the hollow chasm where their visual organs used to be. Others had gruff beards that looked as though they¡¯d been trimmed and shaven with shards of glass.


    Upon entering, a good number of them peered up from their food, drinks, and games to look at Ma¡¯at and Sato with devilish intrigue. After a while, they looked away and returned to what they were doing.


    ¡°Watch and learn, Sato. These are my kind of people. I¡¯ll do the talking.¡± Ma¡¯at exuded an overwhelming sense of confidence as she strode in toward the barman posted up against the far wall.


    He was polishing a shot glass with a fine white piece of cloth. He was fairly large and stocky, and wore a rugged suit that featured three patches of varying colors. Seeing the women approach, he coughed up a monstrous chunk of phlegm from his throat and spat it into a shiny spatoon at his feet. ¡°What can I get ya, lass? Some nice Azanite rum? Maybe somethin¡¯ local like Tulo¡¯s whiskey, eh?¡±


    ¡°Some rum, yeah. Here,¡± she replied, slapping a good amount of coins onto the bar separating them. It was definitely more than what two glasses of rum would cost her. A tip, perhaps, or a bribe. ¡°Are you the client?¡± she asked next in a hushed voice.


    ¡°Erm, you¡¯re those blackguards from Vroque, ain¡¯tcha? Strange ones, you two. ¡®Specially you in the raincoat. You¡¯re a right baffling bird, I¡¯ll tell ya that. Ain¡¯t no shortage of loons in Reville, though. That¡¯s for sure.¡± The shot glass squeaked as he polished it one last time before setting it down and training his eyes on them. ¡°Well, yeah, I¡¯m the client.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything you can tell us about this gang you¡¯re worried about? And are they here now¡­?¡± She continued in her hushed whisper, though it was more of a light shout to hear herself over the whimsical music being played by a trio of musicians at the other side of the place.


    The barman nodded, scratched his chin, then took the money she¡¯d placed in front of him. He crouched, procured two gleaming glasses, then filled them using a sloshing jug of rum that was tied at both ends with tough rope. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am, there they are. In the far back close to those instrument-pluckin¡¯ ninnies.¡±


    Ma¡¯at glanced back, then returned her gaze to the barman¡¯s tired yet calming eyes. ¡°The ones playing cards?¡±


    ¡°Mhm. That¡¯s them. They call themselves the Dragon Hatcher Gang. Guess what they do.¡±


    ¡°Is that a joke¡­?¡±


    He shook his head. A displeased look suddenly dawned on his gruff features. ¡°No! It¡¯s that simple, innit? They trade in dragon eggs, simple as. No kidding.¡±


    ¡°Dragon eggs!? Aren¡¯t they incredibly rare, though?¡± Sato interjected with a torrent of unbridled curiosity.


    ¡°Yup. Insanely expensive, more like. Hard to find, though, sure. They started out as a whiny band of mercs, and eventually found themselves in the eggnappin¡¯ business. Dangerous, terrible job, that is.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem, then? What do you want us to do about it?¡± Ma¡¯at asked. Sure, the gang members at the table looked like they could be violent, but the same could be said of everyone in the bar.


    ¡°Well, a few weeks ago they asked if they could set up shop in my cellar. I said no, so they smashed up my windows. I said no again, and they threatened to burn my bar to the ground! What kinda choice is that? No choice at all, I reckon. Now they do as they please, and the Union won¡¯t do anything about it. Said they ¡®don¡¯t make enemies for no reason¡¯. No reason, I said! My livelihood¡¯s at stake! What better reason would there be than that!?¡± He shook his fist, then slammed it down on the wooden countertop. ¡°Aw, shite. Promised I wouldn¡¯t get riled up again over these wankers¡­ sorry lass. Anyway, all I want is for you to ¡®convince¡¯ these sorry band of arse-lickers to set up shop somewhere else. The farther, the better!¡± His face almost went completely red with rage as he leered at the hooligans chatting and laughing over spilled drinks and betting games.


    Ma¡¯at, too, gazed intently at the source of his woes. It was a gathering of no more than a handful of strong-looking, capable mercenaries wearing loose, ripped clothing tied together by leather belts. Some of them had burn marks and scars that left deathly gray patches on their skin. One of them, larger than the rest and sitting beside a mighty axe, stood out to her as a possible leader among them. The weapon he carried was heavily modified and seemed to be made out of rare materials infused with Technicist technology. Quickly finding her resolve, she grabbed the glass of rum and threw it back down her throat with no issue. It burned and twisted her stomach, but she was well-used to the feeling. ¡°Here, Sato.¡± She handed her the other glass, still full. ¡°Take a swig.¡±


    ¡°Eh¡­ I don¡¯t really drink.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on. It¡¯ll help knock some sense into these obnoxious gangsters, promise. No harm in it.¡±


    She pondered for a moment, lost in the swirling and sloshing amber-tinged alcohol, then finally made up her mind. ¡°Hmm¡­ alright. No harm done.¡± The Maiden of the Rain took up the glass and chugged the rum with reckless abandon¡­ and immediately choked on it. ¡°Ka! Kaka! Ugh¡­ tastes terrible¡­¡± Her voice was hoarse from the dry liquid.


    Ma¡¯at cackled, patting her on her hunched back as she coughed. ¡°You really aren¡¯t a drinker, huh?¡±


    Sato shook her head and wiped saliva from her mouth. ¡°N-No¡­ that was my first.¡±


    ¡°Your first? Wow¡­ When I was twelve, we¡¯d drink whole barrels of this stuff in a day.¡± She chuckled, memories she hadn¡¯t thought of for years coming back to her in a steady, nostalgic stream. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to pressure you into anything¡­¡±


    ¡°Twelve¡­? Pfff¡­ that doesn¡¯t sound healthy¡­¡± Sato eked out.


    Ma¡¯at answered her with silence at first, then glanced at the rambunctious crowd once more. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going in. Join when the feeling passes.¡± She walked through the busy bar, her footsteps pushing the creaking boards beneath her.


    One of the brawny man¡¯s gang members tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the approaching woman.


    The huge man, his hair carved and uneven, turned around halfway with one hand on the table to shift his body wayward. His arms were massive, cut into segmented rippling muscles that shifted below his skin. His deranged, angry eyes settled on Ma¡¯at and suddenly went wide. ¡°It can¡¯t be¡­ Ma¡¯at? That you?¡±


    Ma¡¯at¡¯s determination faded as the realization finally hit her. The man¡¯s sculpted, statuesque face and thick neck was one in a hundred people she had met before. ¡°Draig¡­?¡±


    ¡°Blimey! It¡¯s been a while!¡± The monstrous gangster shot up from his shoddy chair and gave the mercenary woman a light hug, patting her on the back before releasing her. ¡°How¡¯ve you been, darling? Let¡¯s see¡­ last time I saw you¡­¡±


    ¡°Ironside,¡± Ma¡¯at finished his thought.


    ¡°Right, right! Ironside it was!¡± He sighed, a half-smile tugging at his lips. A black beard was below them, and above them, he had a huge, deep, jagged scar that careened across his face and slashed just below his left eye. Fine wrinkles here and there conveyed his true age, though the sheer strength of the man could prove otherwise. He shook his head in dismay. ¡°What a shithole that was. Have you been to Altruin since then?¡±


    Ma¡¯at shook her head instantly.


    ¡°Mrhm. I don¡¯t blame ya.¡± Draig glanced behind him at his crew as if to introduce them, then decided against it. ¡°You know I still get third-rate mercs trying to hunt me down?¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°All these years later. Scumbags. Can¡¯t let an old man be. Guess once you¡¯re a prisoner, you always are. Even after you¡¯re out.¡± He winced at the thought, then scratched his face. ¡°Well, what¡¯re you doing here, then? Camelia with you?¡± He poked his head over Ma¡¯at to look across the bar in search of someone who wasn¡¯t there. When he gave up and turned to look at her face again, he instinctively knew he was wrong to ask such a thing.


    ¡°No. We¡­ stopped talking. Went our separate ways.¡± She rested a hand on one of her blades. ¡°But¡­ I¡¯m trying to find her now. Once we get to leave the city.¡±


    ¡°Once you get to leave?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m working for Vroque now.¡± A nearly suffocating guilt clogged her throat. ¡°And you¡¯re our target today, Draig.¡±


    He scratched his chin, then knelt down and dragged his massive weapon off the floor and rested it on his shoulder. ¡°That so¡­¡± He sniffled. ¡°A contract office, eh? Odd jobs and that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. But we don¡¯t have to fight. The barman, he just wants your gang to leave him be. Go somewhere else.¡±


    Draig went quiet in order to think. He tapped his free fingers on the table. He bit his tongue lightly with his teeth in contemplation. Anxious, he took up a pint and drank it all in three large gulps, wiped his mouth, and slammed it back down. ¡°Hm. Come with me. Lemme show you our operation down here, just to give you a better picture of what we¡¯re really working with.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­! Ma¡¯at, don¡¯t leave me alone¡­¡± Sato stumbled lackadaisically, tripping over her own feet and catching herself on a barstool.


    ¡°Is she okay?¡± Draig asked.


    Ma¡¯at wiped the air with an open hand as a dismissive gesture. ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s fine. Just a little tipsy. Come on, Sato. I¡¯ll help you down.¡±


    Following her old friend, Ma¡¯at led Sato down some nearby stairs. Into the Inkwell cellar. Draig¡¯s powerful steps almost seemed to break the wooden planks descending down into the cozy basement. Soon, they¡¯d see the Dragon Hatchers¡¯ pride and joy. Their base of operations. The treasures they held. The tiny beating hearts and fetal dragons therein.

 Chapter 14: Gamblers Fallacy

    Hearty laughter and jovial conversations faded into nostalgic whispers as they made their way into the tavern¡¯s basement. A calming warmth soon enveloped them, like they were all sitting around a blazing bonfire or huddled up near a roaring hearth. Draig¡¯s shouldered axe teetered left and right as he took mighty steps down the creaking stairs and, finally, onto the night-black concrete.


    Before them was a great hearth, and in front of it were a myriad of strange machines. In the middle of the technological nightmare was a large rounded plate made of an unknown metal. On the plate were three hefty eggs, each nearly the size of a human head.


    Sato¡¯s shimmering gaze ignited with amazement. Her stupor was nothing in the face of her unlimited curiosity it seemed. ¡°They¡¯re real¡­! Real dragon eggs! But, I thought dragons didn¡¯t lay eggs! Mother always told me that dragons were born in the midst of terrible storms.¡±


    ¡°Heh. Aye, maybe in fairytales. Or, perhaps the dragons of old did spring up from magical storms in the sky. Who can say? ¡­But, yes, modern dragons do lay eggs, rare as they are.¡± Draig rested his arm over the hilt of his axe, the weapon becoming akin to a pendulum as it crossed over his muscular upper body. ¡°What you see are three that we¡¯ve found on our journeys. This contraption they¡¯re on stabilizes them, keeps ¡®em warm enough, and keeps track of their health.¡±


    Ma¡¯at walked to Draig¡¯s side with crossed arms. She played it cool, but her eyes were dead-locked on the miraculous embryos. ¡°Where did you find this kind of tech¡­?¡±


    Draig sucked air up through his nostrils, the musty air filling his lungs and smelling of sizzling dust. ¡°We were delvers, once. My gang and I. In our only attempt at going down into the Pit of Azoras, bits of this tech were all we found. Technicist machines, I¡¯m sure. But that was only on the higher levels. Something¡­ very dark lies far below that place. It isn¡¯t for mortal men to venture into.¡±


    The egg leaning on the left of the others had a silver tinge to it, and in its frame were jagged lines like levin strikes that burned with an amber hue. The egg leaning on the right was an onyx black with searing red marks burned into its casing like claw marks. The middle egg was the same onyx color, except swirling azure accents like ephemeral smoke lined its shell.


    ¡°These eggs have been through hell and back, but they¡¯ve never once cracked. They¡¯re hard as iron, likely. Maybe even as tough as noctite. For all we know, they could survive in the scorching heat of a volcano, maybe even live through floating in liquid magma. In all my years, I¡¯ve never seen anything quite like it.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense,¡± Ma¡¯at said, nodding. ¡°If those winged monsters evolved to have the durable scales they do, it could easily apply to their offspring and the eggs protecting them.¡±


    Sato got up close and raised a finger to gently touch the middle one with blue traces.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch ¡®em, miss. They¡¯re superheated. That plate keeps ¡®em at a temperature that¡¯d burn the flesh off your hands.¡± He smirked, though the creases of his eyes did not squint. It wasn¡¯t a joke.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Sato replied, lowering her hand and moving her face closer. A few inches were between her and the humming egg. An almost overwhelming heat filled her cheeks like hot liquid injected into her skin. As she turned away from them slightly, a faint sound met her ears. Not only were they humming from the intense temperature they were put under, but faint noises emanated from them as well. Talking?


    Ma¡¯at watched her colleague with unease, fearing they¡¯d soon need to run her face under cold water. A vicious third-degree burn mark on Sato¡¯s face flashed through her mind as if an oracle had just given her a true vision of the coming future. Believing in her, however, she decided against pulling her back. Sato rarely did things for no reason. She trusted her.


    Sato leaned in ever closer, the faint sound becoming clearer and clearer. With it, the heat grew fiercer and fiercer, nearly burning her cheeks for real.


    ¡°Responsibility¡­¡± the egg whispered. She could have been mistaken, but the word had immediately come to mind as she attempted to decipher the embryo¡¯s strange hums. ¡°My¡­ responsibility¡­¡±


    The Maiden drew her head back, perturbed.


    ¡°Were these eggs also found in the Pit?¡± Ma¡¯at asked, relieved that Sato hadn¡¯t burned her face off on accident.


    Draig shook his head, his rugged facial hair unwavering as he did so. The ever-burning hearth plastered his face in warm autumn colors. ¡°No. We bought the silver and amber one off some bloke somewhere in the Aaskiminuvien Theocracy. Don¡¯t remember exactly where, though. The other two we found as we made our way farther north and back around to Reville. Once we had this many, we gave up doin¡¯ merc work all around the continent.¡±


    ¡°To be dragon hatchers? Or to scare tavern owners into housing you?¡±


    Draig sighed dismissively. He continued, ignoring Ma¡¯at¡¯s jab. ¡°Yes. Don¡¯t you get it? Once these babies hatch, we can start breeding ¡®em. If they¡¯re different sexes, of course. Think about the load of Kin we¡¯ll be making then. It¡¯ll be enough to pay that chickenshit tavern owner and then some.¡±


    Ma¡¯at looked at her old friend with smoldering contempt. ¡°That doesn¡¯t give you the right to destroy his property and force him to let you use his basement as a hatchery. Especially when you¡¯re betting on this dream even becoming a reality. They might all be male, or all female. What will you do then?¡±


    ¡°The odds are in our favor. Hmph. You haven¡¯t changed a bit. Still scared of taking a gamble, huh?¡± An annoying smirk appeared on his face. His eyes gleamed with sudden excitement as an idea conceptualized within his mind.


    ¡°What are you planning?¡± The Sirithisian¡¯s voice was low, almost a grumble. The face he was making¡­ She had seen it countless times before. That gleam in his eyes, similar to Sato¡¯s when she was amazed, but slightly different from that. An insidious plan was being concocted in that head of his.


    Draig let out a raucous, almost jovial laughter like the ones barely heard upstairs. ¡°Look, Ma¡¯at¡­ I know you¡¯re just doing your job. You always are. That¡¯s all you care about, right?¡±


    She remained quiet, locked in a one-sided staring contest.


    ¡°I think we¡¯re on the same page, darling.¡± He dropped his axe to the ground. It clattered and filled the basement with loud clangs, then fell silent on the floor. ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight either. I¡¯ve had enough bloodshed, lately. Hell, my men just want some rest. They say that winter is the season of eternal rest, after all. When the Blissful Sleep is closest to our hearts. So, let¡¯s keep it civil, eh? Why don¡¯t we settle this over a game of cards?¡±


    ¡°Cards!?¡± Sato exclaimed.


    Ma¡¯at tossed her head from side to side, bewildered. It was no surprise that he¡¯d offer to play a game of chance. When the times called for it, Draig could be a valiant warrior. When they didn¡¯t, when violence was simply an option in a row of hundreds of paths to take, he was a coward and gambler at heart. However, what truly perplexed her was why he¡¯d take this route at all. He had the advantage in an all-out brawl. Everyone upstairs talking happily and drunk out of their minds were probably affiliated with him to some degree. Either way, he could pay them to take their side. That was probably what he¡¯d done to dissuade the Union¡¯s interjection; he must have bribed them. If they did fight, there was a very real chance of Ma¡¯at and Sato losing, even with the Maiden of the Rain¡¯s powerful Paracosm. So¡­ why?


    ¡°Come on, Ma¡¯at! Let¡¯s play! I¡¯m sure we could beat him. Plus, if either of us wins, Vroque wins!¡±


    Draig shook his head. ¡°No, no. It¡¯ll be a fair game. One of you will sit out, and I reckon it¡¯ll be you, drunk lass. Haha!¡±


    There was no ill will she could glean from the man¡¯s mannerisms. Maybe¡­ he was being completely honest for once. He really didn¡¯t want to fight her. He didn¡¯t want to see her hurt. Though they hadn¡¯t talked in ages, though their travels and tribulations experienced together had faded into tiny, vague spots in her memory, they burned fervently in Draig¡¯s mind. He wanted to play a fair game of cards and be done with it.


    ¡°Fine. Then what are your terms?¡±


    Draig gave her a pleasant smile. It didn¡¯t fit his features one bit, but in a way, it lightened his gruff exterior and showed his tender personality. ¡°If I win, you both run along back to Vroque HQ and give them the bad news. We stay here. If you win, we¡¯ll leave. Simple as.¡±


    ¡°There has to be something in it for you. We need to raise the stakes.¡±


    Draig raised an eyebrow. ¡°Haha. Maybe I was wrong about you. You are willing to take a gamble!¡± He motioned toward one of his gang members who had been standing guard at the top of the rickety old staircase. ¡°Hey, you! Get us a table and some chairs!¡±


    ¡°Right away, boss.¡± The man left in a hurry, closing the door at the top of the stairs firmly behind him.


    ¡°Alright. If I win, we get to stay¡­ and you give us all the money you¡¯ve got.¡±


    Sato opened her mouth to deny such a harsh bet, but Ma¡¯at spoke up first.


    ¡°Okay. If we win, you leave Inkwell for good¡­ and you give us a dragon egg.¡±


    ¡°Pwahahaha! That a joke, lass? Didn¡¯t know you could be so funny.¡± Though a smile still adorned his mouth, he gritted his teeth. He didn¡¯t like where this was going, now. Not one bit.


    ¡°You said all of our money. Not just in our pockets, right? We could give you Tien¡¯s¡­ maybe the Writer¡¯s¡­ maybe even some trinkets from her bag.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need some shitty knick-knacks you bought off some alley merchant.¡±


    Ma¡¯at stared deeply into Draig¡¯s eyes, unwavering beneath his commanding features. ¡°Nothing of the sort. Not too long ago, we killed a Nye Inkorpt agent and pilfered his gear.¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ¡°W-What!?¡± Draig shouted. Quelling his outburst, he coughed and retained his previous demeanor.


    ¡°A sword and mask from¡­ well, he didn¡¯t say where exactly, but somewhere in the Technicist underground below us. They seem quite valuable.¡±


    Sato, seeing where she was guiding the negotiation, nodded wildly. ¡°Mhm. Our friend Tien is keeping them nice and secure in her suitcase.¡±


    ¡°A Nye Inkorpt agent¡­? And they haven¡¯t come to kill you yet?¡±


    Ma¡¯at and Sato looked at each other, then glanced back at Draig with uncertainty.


    ¡°No,¡± Ma¡¯at replied.


    ¡°You Vroque suits are playing a dangerous game. More dangerous than we are, I can tell you that. Even those Union bastards are afraid of the Inkorpt. If they weren¡¯t busy taking contracts to kill off bigger fish like Blue Lotus, we¡¯d be dead by now¡­¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t scared of those clowns,¡± Sato said. ¡°Now, do you accept our terms or not?¡±


    Draig stared at the duo as if he were looking at a pair of madwomen that had just escaped the Crowclaw Asylum. ¡°Aye, ya crazy idiots. Nowhere we can go from here, anyway. Nowhere but the cards.¡± The amiable grin appeared on his face again.


    After an indeterminate amount of time, the gang member came back with some help and dragged three chairs and an oaken table from the bar down the stairs and set them up right in front of the eggs warming before the hearthfire. It was time to play.


    ¡°How are we deciding the game?¡± Ma¡¯at asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you two decide. Ladies first and all,¡± Draig dryly intoned the chivalric saying.


    ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t think that really applies here¡­¡±


    Ma¡¯at thought long and hard. The answer was quite simple when she reached it. What better game to play than one played most recently? ¡°How about Malarri? You know how to play it?¡±


    ¡°¡®Course I do! Do you take me for some wealthy aristocrat, Ma¡¯at? I¡¯m a northerner by birth. Every self-respecting Frostlander knows the game by heart.¡± He obviously took immense pride in having a great amount of knowledge and experience with the game, a fact that made Ma¡¯at a little uneasy at first.


    But she realized that there could have been worse games to pick, and what better game to beat him at than one that was so close to home? At last, they began playing, sitting opposite each other with the roaring flame and humming eggs between them. The prize was in their grasp, should the cards favor them.


    ¡°Three rounds is the classic way to play. Get ready,¡± he said, shuffling the cards haphazardly in his huge hands.


    The game began. The fire on their fingertips. The rugged sheen on the paper cards. The gleam of the red and black suits when reflecting the dancing flame. Sato¡¯s wandering eye, and Draig¡¯s stern reprimand. Though there was so much at stake¡­ Ma¡¯at felt as if she was having fun. She wasn¡¯t a gambler, but she purely enjoyed the act of playing such games.


    A memory sprang to mind, one she hadn¡¯t thought of for many days and nights.


    She and Camelia sat on the grass. A picnic. Her fiery hair and light pink, almost pastel eyes against the backdrop of rustling verdant leaves and creaking pale branches. They played cards together, the wind tossing them to and fro every now and then.


    Ma¡¯at beat her for the nth time, and Camelia, being the sore loser she was, threw all of the cards up and burnt them to ash. Until they were no more. And Ma¡¯at laughed upon staring into her rage-fueled fury. Camelia fell to the ground, embarrassed, and promised her she¡¯d buy her a new deck. ¡°One day,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll make up for it.¡±


    ¡°...One day¡­ I¡¯ll make up for it¡­¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± Draig stared daggers at his opponent, a fan of cards held in his hand.


    Ma¡¯at shook the memory from her mind, her fluffy black hair dancing above her shoulders. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± She grew lost in the pile in the middle of the table. She couldn¡¯t remember what Draig had called on his turn. ¡°Six clubs,¡± she called.


    ¡°Malarri!¡± Draig announced, splaying the middle cards up and over onto their other sides, revealing them all. ¡°Two, three, four.¡± He grinned. ¡°Only four clubs. You lose.¡±


    That was one chance tarnished. If they lost another, it was over. They¡¯d lose everything. Ma¡¯at cursed herself under her breath, urging herself to focus.


    Draig played a card face down. ¡°One heart.¡± He leaned one arm on the ancient table. Its legs let out small whimpers as if they were about to break and scatter everything to the floor. ¡°Win or lose¡­ I¡¯m glad we were able to meet again, Ma¡¯at. Under the circumstances, it was still nice to see you after all this time. Hah¡­ if only Camelia was with you two. Been even longer for her. Last time we talked¡­ must¡¯ve been near the Plaguelands the day we met Orion.¡±


    ¡°Hmph.¡± Ma¡¯at jolted as she let out a half-hearted chuckle. ¡°Those days¡­ were some of the worst of my life.¡±


    Silence took hold.


    Ma¡¯at played two cards. ¡°Two hearts.¡±


    Draig tapped his fingers on the table idly. ¡°What happened between you and Camelia? You two were thick as thieves last I saw.¡± He played a card. ¡°Two clubs.¡±


    Ma¡¯at sighed. ¡°I told you. We had an argument and¡­ stopped talking. She didn¡¯t want anything to do with me after that.¡± She played a card, resting her forefinger on it for a moment, then letting it slap down on the table. ¡°Two spades.¡±


    ¡°What makes you so confident that she¡¯ll want to talk to you now?¡±


    For merely a second, she glanced Sato¡¯s way, then returned her gaze to the cards in her hand. ¡°Nothing, really. Just¡­ hoping. Hoping we¡¯ll leave Reville soon. Hoping I¡¯ll see her eventually. Hoping she¡¯ll forgive me.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t have been any normal argument,¡± Draig replied coldly. He played a card. ¡°Four spades,¡± he called.


    Raw emotion left Ma¡¯at¡¯s face as she stared into Draig¡¯s. Her hazel eyes grew dark, black as a doll¡¯s eyes. She looked at him as if she were about to draw one of her blades. ¡°Stop talking about her. You think I don¡¯t realize what you¡¯re trying to do?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re trying to distract me again. Don¡¯t play dumb.¡± She touched a card in her hand, then let it go. If there ever was a time to call his bluff, it would be now. The odds were in both their favor, but Ma¡¯at was sure she hadn¡¯t played any spades. ¡°Malarri!¡± she yelled.


    ¡°Really, now? If I win this round, darling, I win the whole thing.¡±


    Ignoring his remark, the Sirithisian turned over the cards and spread them outward across the slapdash table. ¡°Two spades. You lose.¡±


    ¡°Damn¡­!¡± he made his free hand into a tightly-wound fist and nearly pounded the table with it. At the last second, though, he calmed himself and drew it back.


    ¡°Last round,¡± Ma¡¯at said, shuffling the deck. The cards were dealt one last time. She played a card. ¡°One spade.¡±


    Draig played two cards. ¡°Two spades.¡± His voice was serious this time. The arm belonging to the fist he had made moments before was now leaning on the table, and the cards in his other hand were right in front of his face as if he meant to hide his expression.


    Ma¡¯at played two cards. ¡°Two hearts.¡±


    Draig narrowed his gaze, his pupils dilating into tiny points of darkness. The hearthfire roared, tiny embers flittering to their feet like wandering butterflies before fading into specks of ash. He could call her now and end it before she would get another turn, but doing so could lose him the game as well. If there were just two hearts in there, she¡¯d win. He hadn¡¯t played any, so she must have played them both or was extremely confident that he had played at least one. Time ticked by. He made a decision. ¡°Hm¡­ Malarri,¡± he said without enthusiasm. A gut feeling told him he was wrong, but for once, he went against it. A call now would be easier and just as risky as a call later. Now was the time. He spread the cards. ¡°One¡­¡± He sighed deeply, deeper than he had ever sighed since speaking with the two women. ¡°Two. You win.¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Sato cheered, giving Ma¡¯at a sudden and unprompted hug in celebration. ¡°See!? This is why you gamble~¡±


    Ma¡¯at blushed from the contact. A faint yet soothing fragrance met her senses. The smell of lavender wafted from Sato¡¯s body. Her raincoat, too, was very warm from being near the fireplace for so long. Ma¡¯at thought that she would nearly pass out from heat exhaustion, and thought the same of her colleague. ¡°Okay, okay. Get off of me¡­ drunky.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not drunk! I only had one drink.¡± Sato did not let her go.


    ¡°Yeah, and that one drink had you tripping over yourself at the bar! Now get off me¡­¡±


    Sato let her go, the warmth receding.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you dying with that raincoat on? Felt like a thousand degrees.¡±


    ¡°No! I¡¯m fine. I use my magic to keep myself cool. The water I create is always cold, remember?¡±


    Thinking back, she was right. When she¡¯d saved Ma¡¯at¡¯s life back at the old warehouse, the rainwater was as cold as it would be if it had really fallen out of the clouds on an autumn day. Chilly, yet comforting in a way.


    Draig witnessed the display with a massive grin despite having lost the game. The Dragon Hatcher Gang would have to set up shop somewhere else, and they would lose an egg to boot. To make things even worse, one less egg lowered the chances of them being able to breed the beasts. Even so, his gruff grin did not falter.


    ¡°The hell are you smiling about, reht¡¯ka?¡±


    ¡°We won, Ma¡¯at! We get to choose a dragon egg!¡± Sato returned to her childlike glee as if nothing had happened, like she had so many times. Like a switch being flipped, she would transform from a demure and intellectual woman with astonishing fighting prowess and magical capabilities to an easily excitable kid in no more than a second.


    ¡°Aye, I lost¡­ fair and square. Pick one. Ah, but¡­ how are you going to take care of it?¡±


    ¡°The friend we- I mean¡­ our colleague Tien has a suitcase she can use.¡±


    ¡°A suitcase¡­?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s no ordinary suitcase, Draig. It¡¯s an Arcane Construct that can hold an infinite amount of items. She explained to me a few days ago that it keeps whatever¡¯s inside in stasis. So, if we hurry to her, it should keep the egg at a stable heat as long as it remains in the case. Eventually, we¡¯ll find a use for it.¡±


    ¡°Find a use for it!?¡± he exclaimed. ¡°Blimey, I thought you¡¯d take care of the damn thing! This is my baby we¡¯re talkin¡¯ about here! You¡¯re not gonna sell him, are ya?¡±


    Ma¡¯at glared at him, this time with the warmth returning to her face and the flames turning her dark hair into streaks of auburn gold. ¡°You lost, remember? It¡¯s ours now. It doesn¡¯t matter what we do with it.¡± She turned away from him and knelt down to observe the embryos again. ¡°We¡¯ll take the middle one. The one with blue accents.¡±


    ¡°Let us borrow these tongs,¡± Sato chimed, dragging the metal tool out of the blazing fire.


    ¡°Fine, fine, ya lunatics.¡± Draig relinquished his possessions.


    Sato clasped the azure egg with the tongs, raised it carefully off of the heating plate, and made her way upstairs.


    Draig shook his head in sheer disbelief. One night is all it took to flip one¡¯s life upside down, a fact that had been made known to him countless times already. It just so happened that this night was one of them. ¡°Take good care of him, please. Or her. Don¡¯t sell it to some random bloke, eh?¡± he pleaded.


    Ma¡¯at smiled genuinely. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡±


    As she started to leave, Draig softly grabbed hold of her arm to stop her. ¡°Hey, sorry ¡®bout what I said before. You¡¯ve changed plenty.¡±


    She stared at him in confusion. ¡°I don¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°For the better, I¡¯ll add. Before, it took the mother of all witches to calm you down. Even Camelia would struggle to help you when ya needed it. Now, though¡­¡± He stared blankly at the ascending staircase where Sato had just tiptoed with egg in tow. ¡°Now, you seem to be enjoying yourself. Taking life a little less seriously, eh? I¡¯m proud of you, is all.¡±


    The mercenary woman went quiet again.


    Draig let go of her arm. ¡°Go tell that dumbass at the bar that we¡¯ll be out of his hair by sundown tomorrow.¡±


    Ma¡¯at nodded and walked toward the stairs.


    ¡°Ma¡¯at,¡± he said.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    Another wry grin appeared on his bearded face. Thin, indelible scars across his face glowed in the light of the crackling fire. They were eerily similar to her own. ¡°It was good to see ya. Really. I mean it. And¡­ I hope you find her. I hope you find Camelia and work things out. Hate to see good friends fight.¡±


    Ma¡¯at nodded again, the firelight dimming. She took one last look at the man known as Draig, his hatchery, and the messy shoddy table they had just played cards on. Then, she left. She had to find Sato, run with her and the egg back to Vroque, throw it in Tien¡¯s case, and that would be that. Of course, the Writer and Tien would have to ask about it all. For the Writer, though, such a story was an added bonus atop another successful mission.

 Chapter 15: Hellhound

    ¡°I shall remain forever in your debt, if only you will examine her pulse.¡±


    ¡°Haah¡­ Miss Shino, I¡¯ve already refused you countless times. How can you still come begging and pleading when I¡¯ve already told you no?¡±


    ¡°I thought it was the duty of doctors to cure people¡¯s illnesses. I tell you that my daughter is gravely ill, and yet you ignore me. This, I cannot understand.¡±


    ¡°...How can you now ask someone like me, ¡®possessed by evil spirits¡¯, to cure your daughter of her grave illness? Instead, you should ask for help from your own ¡®Deus Come Thus¡¯ in whom you believe so deeply.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Strange, the things that happen.¡± The Writer sat cross-legged reading a newspaper at his desk. The winter gloom had slightly parted for the day. The air was crisp and dry with cold, but the fierce wind that had been assaulting the city was nowhere to be found. ¡°I hear they¡¯ve been seeing a ghost near the crossing of Halei Street and Valeigh.¡±


    ¡°Even in the daytime, hm?¡± Ma¡¯at responded with feigned interest.


    ¡°Mhm, though mostly when it rains.¡±


    ¡°Rainy days?¡±


    ¡°They say it wears a raincoat. Curious, isn¡¯t it? If I were dead, the last thing I¡¯d want to do is wander outside on a cold, rainy day.¡± He adjusted his monocle and blinked twice, his eyes trained on the typed tableau.


    ¡°Right, that¡¯s the part of the story that¡¯s unbelievable.¡±


    The Writer finally peered up slightly. ¡°Don¡¯t you believe in ghosts?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she replied sternly. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen one, or heard one, so why would I believe in them? But it doesn¡¯t surprise me that you do. Half of your stories are ghost stories.¡±


    The Writer chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s not true. Though, I do adore a tale of fright every now and then. Sometimes a story to spur the heart to action is enough to make this old man feel young again.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about that,¡± she mused. The Writer was quite the excitable person, after all. Even those half his age could struggle to muster up a modicum of his inscrutable energy and passion for the world around him. ¡°A raincoat, though¡­ Maybe someone mistook Sato for a ghost. She¡¯s pale like one.¡±


    A blunt object slapped down on Ma¡¯at¡¯s head as if divine retribution had immediately punished her for her teasing jab. Though, it wasn¡¯t any god that punished her, but the offendee. Sato had whacked her head lightly with the side of her black umbrella.


    ¡°Ack!¡± She lowered her head and raised her shoulders on instinct. A sharp pain shot through her skull and down her neck.


    ¡°I heard that, punk.¡± Sato walked around the office gracefully as if she hadn¡¯t just attacked her friend, then plopped down on the opposite sofa with a satisfied look on her face.


    Ma¡¯at stifled the embarrassment she felt upon letting out such an uncharacteristic cry. ¡°Well, it¡¯s true, isn¡¯t it? They could be talking about you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a ghost! Do I look translucent to you?¡±


    Ma¡¯at smiled as a reply quickly formed in her mind.


    ¡°Don¡¯t answer that.¡± She stared daggers at the desert-born mercenary as if she knew exactly what she was thinking. ¡°So, what about this ghost, though? Is it our next contract?¡±


    ¡°No, no. Just a rumor I¡¯d heard on my rare walks outside the confines of the office. It is quite the mystery, however. I¡¯m half-tempted to hire you all myself to figure it out.¡± This time, he didn¡¯t look up from the paper in his hands.


    ¡°No,¡± Ma¡¯at immediately shot his proposal down. Even if it was merely a joke and nothing more, she knew that enough time and not a soul to silence the curious codger would lead to disastrous consequences. And by disastrous consequences, she meant going on a wild goose chase for hours on end with no overtime pay.


    The Writer clicked his tongue, peeking up at Ma¡¯at in slight detest for a second, then hiding once more behind his splayed newspaper.


    ¡°Then¡­ no contract today. Phew. I was hoping we¡¯d get some time off,¡± Sato said, breaking the momentary silence that had engulfed the room. She leaned slowly into the back of the couch, the cushions accepting her in a soft embrace.


    Time ticked by. With each passing second and not a word uttered, Ma¡¯at realized just how loud the office clock really was. Well, perhaps it was just all the more noticeable when its surroundings were quieter than normal. Even so, it was irritating. Annoying. She tapped her foot, then lightly scratched her face as she peered into the monochrome walls for the hundredth time. An idea formed. ¡°Sato?¡±


    ¡°Mhm?¡± the Maiden of the Rain rose to attention and chimed, the peerless violet gems that were her corneas beaming excitedly.


    Ma¡¯at looked away, abashed, as if staring into them for too long would somehow give Sato control over her mind. ¡°Would you¡­ like to grab something to eat at the cafe? We could invite Tien.¡±


    Sato narrowed her eyes. It was rare, incredibly rare even, for Ma¡¯at to invite them out. To avoid embarrassing her and rending the invitation altogether, she smiled and nodded. ¡°Sure! Should we go now? I think Tien¡¯s still in her room reading.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Ma¡¯at replied, smiling very faintly. As if the office had been hit by a rogue sandstorm, however, her smile vanished soon after it had appeared. So often it did. But, something else had been the cause. As she rose from her seat, a great thundering cacophony startled them all and shook the building. Glasses rattled. Plates clinked. Chairs topped over, their worn legs unable to withstand the violent aftershocks.


    ¡°What in the world was that?¡± the Writer lashed through his teeth. He threw down his paper and carefully made his way to the edge of the large window that always bathed the office in pale sunlight. He grabbed the wall and peered around it, his singular, squinted eye focusing on a blazing array of colors blossoming further down the street. ¡°Good heavens!¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Ma¡¯at questioned, her emotions restrained. She was deeply focused on the immediate danger.


    ¡°A great¡­ a great beast¡­ of some kind. It appears to be¡­ a monstrous hound. It¡¯s on fire, bellowing flames like a demon!¡±


    Through the rumbling, settling glass was the creature the Writer spoke of. Panicked cries could be heard in the distance. A wave of rushing citizens ran from the source of their terror, their suit flaps and dresses dancing behind their backs. The hound itself appeared as an elemental beast forged in flame. Red streaks of fire enveloped its body and came to swirling, wispy black ends as they flowed from its head to its tail. Roaring flames the color of autumn. The color of the leaves that had long faded from Reville. There the creature rampaged and bit at civilians, the crooked trees bereft of its vibrant colors almost appearing to teeter away from its malicious embers. The cobblestone beneath its ashen paws glowed wildly and was caked with black specks falling from the beast. It was roughly the size of a bear, slightly larger.


    Running to meet it were several Union soldiers dressed in white, gold and red. One of them was familiar to Ma¡¯at and Sato.


    ¡°Come on,¡± the Sirithisian finally spoke up, her mind catching up to the sudden event that had transpired. ¡°Let¡¯s help them. We might get something out of it.¡±


    ¡°Run!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a monster! A monster! Get the hell out of here!¡±


    ¡°Shut up, all of you!¡± Raphael snapped. He drew his ornate rapier to his side, the clean blade making a ringing sound as if a sting of magic coursed through it. ¡°Run along. The Union¡¯s 11th will clean up this mess. Mevre!¡±


    A stocky man wearing the standard silver Union helm and wielding a long spear appeared at his side. ¡°Yes, sir?¡±


    ¡°What manner of beast is this?¡±


    He teetered his head to eye the hellhound. It was munching on a bystander that had been much too slow to escape its maw. ¡°It may be a vax, sir, though I¡¯m not entirely sure. An elemental beast for certain. I hear vax can appear as large, flaming dogs like this one.¡± If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°That so? What do you recommend we do to suppress it?¡±


    ¡°Suppress it, sir? I believe we should kill it now before it harms anyone else.¡±


    Raphael glared at the spearman, then glared at the hound with fierce ire in his eyes. His long, wavy blond hair fell from his head and shoulders like a regal drape. ¡°Answer the question. What would be its weakness?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ water, sir. Obviously.¡±


    ¡°Any damned fool could tell me that! Nevermind, then. I¡¯ve never lost in a duel to the death, and I never will, even against such a mad creature.¡± Raphael approached the hellhound with a gallant stride, though a tinge of unease betrayed him in how slowly he inched forward. ¡°Hear me, dog! You face the Captain of the Union¡¯s 11th! Bow your head and be tame¡­ or die where you stand.¡±


    Finished consuming the unlucky civilian now reduced to warm blood and bones, the creature¡¯s head whipped around and it jumped back like a startled fox. It was deft in its movements. It growled, sputtering flame spewing out of its gnarled, volcanic teeth.


    ¡°En garde!¡± Raphael cried, launching forward in a brilliant piercing attack. His red and gold-trimmed cape flowed behind him valiantly. The ringing in his silver-gold rapier grew slightly more audible, almost like a low chime. Flashes of silver and white light burst outward from him for a brief second. Then, it passed.


    The hellhound had evaded his technique barely and began to plan its counterattack. With its jaws open and ready to launch its fangs into its prey, it stepped to the side and jumped straight at Raphael with pure intent to kill. To sever his limbs from his body, and to burn the flesh off the broken bones.


    To Raphael¡¯s relief, though he would never admit it, his handful of subordinates with weapons in hand came to his aid. Mevre, the spearman, slashed at its head just as it attempted to clamp down on the Captain¡¯s body. The others managed to mildly injure its legs and make some wounds in its torso.


    The beast whipped around again in response, its burning tail clotheslining most of its attackers in one fell swoop. They fell onto their backs hard, scorching bits of ash and dust burning through their thick undershirts.


    ¡°Damn you all! Useless pups. I¡¯ll handle it, so stay back!¡± Raphael cried again, his immense pride dooming him. Even he realized how foolish he sounded, but he would never stop parading around his arrogant persona. It was what made him, him. At the end of the day, he really would rather die than reveal the black hole of fear that threatened to swallow whole the false lionheart.


    ¡°Captain! Move!¡± the spearman shouted.


    His attempt to save Raphael was too late. As soon as the lavish man heard Mevre¡¯s warning, he was already in harm¡¯s way.


    The snarling beast wreathed in hellfire lunged toward its enemy once more, its fangs like rows of disjointed knives. Time seemed to slow. They moved through the cool air, undeterred by anything, ready to turn Raphael¡¯s heart to mincemeat and his ribs to dust. Closer and closer they came. Ever nearer. Death had come for him, and there was nowhere to run. No time.


    Yet, the fangs were stopped. A blade as dark as night, entirely unlike the Union weaponry he knew all too well, flew through the air like an expertly crafted paper airplane and lodged itself firmly in the hound¡¯s jaw. Blood filled its mouth. The stench of iron filled the air, its only contender being the intense smell of burning skin. The beast let out a whimpered cry and flew with the blade, stumbling backward and kneeling slightly with its front right leg.


    ¡°Perfect throw,¡± Tien remarked. She held onto her suitcase¡¯s handle tightly, just in case. She didn¡¯t¡­ couldn¡¯t fail anyone else. Though she cared for the Union very little, she wouldn¡¯t let any lives be squandered due to her inaction. Never again, as much as she could help it.


    The Maiden of the Rain immediately followed up on Ma¡¯at¡¯s sudden strike. As if performing an elaborate dance, she carried her umbral umbrella through the air in swirling flourishes before spinning around and pointing its wet end straight at their foe. Murky, azure rainwater sprung up from her dance and coalesced at the weapon¡¯s tip.


    Fwoom!


    Her umbrella¡¯s canopy clicked and opened with a whooshing sound. The conjured water shot out in a torrent in that moment like a firehose, drenching and pummeling the beast with deadly precision. It tumbled further down the street, millions of droplets following in its wake.


    Raphael was both stunned and disgruntled. He and his knights climbed back to their feet with grunts full of ache and bother.


    The flame had been extinguished. The hellhound was no more than an oversized wet mutt, its hide barely able to conjure a meager spark. It was then when Ma¡¯at, Sato, and Tien gazed upon its coal black fur and its rageful eyes that a voice rang in their minds. For Sato, the voice was even clearer, as if it were being played directly in her head. Its every spoken syllable dripped with blazing fury.


    Dispassionate action is meaningless.


    There is only rage; that is what the good doctor drove into me.


    The fire of life will consume all, leaving nothing but charcoal and ash as the remainder.


    Sato winced and grabbed her head with her free hand in agony. It felt as if every neuron in her brain had been set aflame. She groaned, and the world around her began to dim.


    ¡°Sato? Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Is that¡­ an Enigma?¡±


    Faint voices and distant cries echoed into whispers. The voice grew louder. The hellhound¡¯s eyes burned brighter, filled with autumnal conflagration.


    I am not so dull as to be lost entirely.


    A thread that binds me still yet binds you; I can see it dangling from your beating heart.


    You know whom I speak of, that who we wish to burn!


    A dazzling microcosm of crackling sparks echoed from the hound¡¯s innards. They smelled and sounded like firecrackers being set off on a summer night. Finally, the creature reignited itself. Beautiful flames like leaves turned orange burst to life across its hide. It snarled, then barked, then bit the air. Embers popped off of its body. It heaved, though its breaths were virtually non-existent.


    ¡°Enigma or beast¡­ they¡¯re all the same.¡± Ma¡¯at threw her right arm, the one that once held the sword she threw, to the side in a meaningful gesture. On cue, the noctite blade lodged in the hound¡¯s head came to life again and began to rip through the creature¡¯s maw, sawing through the tendons.


    A terrible roar filled with anger and misery let out from its bleeding mouth. The hellhound charged Ma¡¯at instinctually, blazing flame rolling off of it like waves. The fire encroached upon the nearby buildings and offices, scorching the outer walls and burning any wooden railings and signs to a crisp. Some nearby had their clothes catch on fire, the Union knights dropping everything to help them.


    In the craze of its charge, as it neared the Sirithisian bracing for impact, Raphael had already started his mad dash toward the Vroque trio. With a poised rapier in tow, he stopped abruptly before the hound¡¯s side and performed the same attack he had tried before.


    This time, however, he was successful. Brilliant blinding light let out as he seemed to dash forward in an instant, his rapier proudly pointed upward, through the beast¡¯s side. Tar-colored blood dripped from its razor-sharp edge. Raphael had cut the hound¡¯s stomach. Drained of its vital liquids and filled with excruciating pain, it fell to the cobblestone with a loud thud.


    With the creature¡¯s mental attack also subdued, Sato made one last move to fully suppress the enemy. She drenched it in water once more, the flames dissipating just the same as before. With nothing left, not even a single spark, the hound laid down, defeated and dying.


    Ma¡¯at called back her blade. It ripped through the hound¡¯s jaw and threw its hilt right into her hand perfectly in a tight grip. Air escaped her lungs, the imminent danger finally subdued. ¡°I¡¯ll kill it.¡±


    As she raised her blade to deal the finishing blow, Raphael¡¯s rapier met it in the air, barring her from the execution.


    ¡°What¡¯s your problem?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± He paused to catch his breath. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon his words. ¡°I can¡¯t allow you to kill this one. The Union has requested that we bring it into custody.¡±


    The grumbling, labored breaths of the beast could barely be heard beneath the fur and raven-black coal.


    ¡°Why!? It almost burned everything on this street to the ground!¡±


    ¡°It is important to the Union,¡± Raphael argued. He lowered his rapier, cleaned it on his sleeve, then sheathed it as if he had zero concern now that she would try to kill the creature. ¡°I don¡¯t have the full details either, Vroque lackey.¡± He coughed, still somewhat exasperated. ¡°We will pay for your help in suppressing it, however. That much is fair. Now, leave. We¡¯ll handle the cleanup.¡± He waved them away.


    Sato was unconvinced. Her eyes dug into him, violet shards stabbing his weary heart. ¡°No¡­ there was something he said.¡±


    Raphael raised an eyebrow, surprisingly concerned for the woman¡¯s sanity. ¡°He¡­?¡±


    ¡°Your Union masters are collecting Enigmas, surely you know that. I don¡¯t care why. But he mentioned a doctor. Did a Union doctor work on this man? Was he taken in by someone recently? Someone named-¡±


    Ma¡¯at was about to interject, confused about her colleague¡¯s sudden rambling questions and ranting when they would be compensated for their on-the-spot contract, when an older man wearing a large cloth overcoat, suit and tie approached them. He wore steel wire rounded glasses that held two shimmering lenses. The countless fires the hellhound had left behind painted them crimson.


    ¡°Excuse me, but I believe this is my patient. I was performing an examination on him when he suddenly¡­ transformed and tried to attack me. It¡¯s my fault, I should have paid more attention to his mental state. And, consequently, my operating room is mostly constructed out of wood, you see. It has since burnt down.¡± He spoke matter-of-factly, as if his woes were not his own. Both his hands were settled loosely in his coat pockets.


    ¡°I see,¡± Raphael replied. ¡°You can be on your way, then. We¡¯ll clean this mess up, then send someone to do a full investigation on the matter promptly.¡±


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ll be wanting my name then, yes?¡±


    Raphael nodded as if he had fully thought the matter through. He did not. ¡°Mhm. Right. Go ahead, I¡¯ll remember your face and name.¡±


    ¡°It is Ryosai, Dr. Ogata Ryosai of the clinic in Indigo District.¡±


    The Union Captain nodded affirmatively. ¡°Memorized. Thank you, Doctor. Now, you may leave. A Union official will come and find you soon.¡±


    The doctor¡¯s creased eyes closed as he bowed in acknowledgement to Raphael, then reopened and glided across the Vroque trio for but a blurred moment, no longer than a brief picture; a photograph. A pair of familiar, violet, rain-stained eyes stopped him dead in his tracks, as if frozen on the spot. He did a double take, blinking rapidly before walking toward the raincoat-wearing woman in haste. ¡°Shino? No¡­ Sato? Sato, is that you?¡±


    Sato¡¯s gaze did not falter. She stared at the man as if he were the devil himself, as if he were the source of all the evil in the world, as if the hound that lay dying had come to life in the form of one wretched old man. Then, the light returned to her eyes, and her disillusioned stupor receded into one of understanding. A small, forced smile found itself on her bright lips. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s me. It¡¯s nice to see you again, Doctor.¡±

 Chapter 16: Memorandum

    The waning embers carried by the returning winter wind had all but left their minds later that day. And the words uttered by the hound, in Sato¡¯s mind, clawed at her psyche, giving her a terrible headache. It shot painful pangs through her cranium. She rubbed her temples as they approached the clinic Ryosai had mentioned.


    It was a shoddy yet clean place. It was barely any better than a random backstreet doctor¡¯s office, but it was much more comfortable than one. It seemed to be half-clinic half-house, both a living space for him and a place of rest. It wasn¡¯t much different from the Iteration 7 offices in which they worked, after all. Just as they had the living space and the Writer¡¯s desk in one room, they also had their bedrooms just a few steps away. As if to mirror their occupational lives, Ryosai had his desk near the front door as well as a tiny kitchen to the right. Down the creaky, claustrophobic hall mounted with endless portraits led to a slightly open living room of sorts. It was still quite cramped and the overly large plaid furniture didn¡¯t help to make any more room. Pretty, hand-sewn designs lined the fluffy throw pillows, footstools, and sofas. An oaken coffee table sat in the middle of the tranquil chaos.


    With her head still in her hands, Sato led them all to the room in question as if she perfectly knew the way and took a seat on the closest sofa. The respite was quiet save for the rustling of all their clothes and the ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner.


    ¡°Thank you, sir. For inviting us to your home.¡± Tien gave her thanks to the wizened doctor with a warm smile.


    Ryosai waved her worries away. ¡°Do not mention it. You are friends of Sato, yes? How could I not invite you all as well? Now, I¡¯ll go make some tea. Feel free to relax.¡± Following his words, he took his hands out of his large coat pockets and retraced his steps back to the kitchen area.


    Tien placed her suitcase on the coffee table while Ma¡¯at looked down at Sato. After a while, she crept around the clutter and took a seat next to the raincoat-wearing woman.


    ¡°How are you feeling? Any better now?¡±


    Sato shook her head, then winced as even that sent bullets of pain through her spine. ¡°Did either of you hear it too? That hound.¡±


    ¡°I heard it, alright. I¡¯m sure half the city heard its cry,¡± Tien said with a twinge of snarkiness. She put her suitcase on its side and took a seat on a tall, cushioned chair.


    ¡°No,¡± Ma¡¯at said. ¡°There was something else. I thought I heard it¡­ talking. Like Rosaline. It was much harder to hear this time, though.¡±


    ¡°Not for me.¡± Sato slowly raised her head to meet her compatriot¡¯s eyes. ¡°It felt like someone was screaming in my ears. Unlike Rosaline, there was a second where I thought I was going to be¡­ lost in its words. For a moment, I lost myself like a child would accidentally drop a toy. It was terrifying.¡± She let out a labored sigh.


    ¡°What did it say?¡± Tien asked, brushing brown hair out of her face.


    Sato deliberated in silence, then came to a decision in her mind. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Similar things as Rosaline. But people tend to shout lies when they¡¯re angry¡­ or when they¡¯re scared. I don¡¯t think we should linger on an Enigma¡¯s words.¡±


    Tien, barely noticeably, narrowed her eyes. ¡°Okay. But if they do become relevant, tell us. Personally, I want to know just what the Union of Isles is planning. Why gather all these random Enigmas? I¡¯m sure they want us to think they¡¯re attempting to revert them back to humans, but I doubt it. Something¡¯s fishy.¡±


    Ma¡¯at contemplated. It certainly was suspicious, there was no doubt about it. But was it really any of their business? Vroque wasn¡¯t some startup business here in Reville, but it surely wasn¡¯t a conglomerate big enough yet to dissuade the Union¡¯s actions. And, really, what was it to them? Low-Class Vroque mercs had little to no sway in the violent storm of rich folk whims.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you both are curious about the Doctor,¡± Sato broke the momentary silence. ¡°He¡¯s an old family friend.¡± As she said it, it felt wrong somehow. It felt as if they weren¡¯t her own words but ones she was reciting.


    ¡°Sato¡­¡± Ma¡¯at started to say, but Ryosai¡¯s sudden entrance closed her mouth promptly.


    ¡°Here we are, green mountain tea for you all.¡± Ryosai set the drinks down softly, then took a seat in the farthest chair. It was old and brown with checkered patches all across its rough exterior.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± they all said quietly in unison.


    ¡°None for you?¡± Tien inquired.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. It was the last of it, and even so, I much prefer to smoke.¡± He chuckled dryly, then reached back into one of his coat pockets and procured an ornate smoking pipe. It was mostly wood but with iron accents that had been created by a talented hand. He sprinkled a faint powdery substance into it, then reached over and picked up a match in his other hand. He struck it, lit the pipe¡¯s contents, then puffed and started to take drags from it as if he had done so countless times before. Violet wisps began to push out from the tiny flame and linger in the air. ¡°My own advice be damned, I suppose. Haha.¡±


    Ma¡¯at instantly recognized the smell of the plant-turned-powder. ¡°You smoke Tranquility?¡±


    Ryosai took another drag from his pipe, his lungs filling with its mystical contents, then let it out, purple fumes escaping from his mouth. ¡°That¡¯s right. It¡¯s a curious herb. I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t find it much earlier in my life, however. It is quite addictive. Though, I¡¯ve been told by some that it didn¡¯t sprout up from the ground until a few years ago. Strange, how the world works sometimes.¡± He smoked again. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t matter right now. I¡¯m quite happy to see you, Sato. How long has it been?¡± He smiled, faint wrinkles around his mouth appearing as he did so.


    Sato stared into the doctor¡¯s clouded lenses. ¡°Ten years or so.¡±


    He shook his head in disbelief. ¡°Already so long. It feels as though I met you and your mother mere weeks ago. Hm. Time is a curse for weary minds.¡±


    ¡°How exactly did you know them?¡± Ma¡¯at asked.


    Ryosai lowered his pipe and examined the Sirithisian in thought. ¡°I was their family¡¯s doctor for a time, back when most families shared a doctor. It was a long time ago, when Reville was an infantile city state. Its current shine and chic, the machines and technology, none of it was here. It was a poor city for poor folk who had come from poor countries. Many of us were from an oriental island at the end of the chain¡­ in the back corner of the world. Nima was its name. It was home, for a time, but we eventually had to leave and come here.¡±


    ¡°Do you miss it?¡± Tien asked.


    Ryosai pondered the question, then nodded. ¡°Yes, sometimes. When I close my eyes, I can still see the blooming pink blossoms. The devil flowers. They are imprinted on my eyelids like sunspots. And the smells, too. When I am alone in my office with the wind blowing in through the window, that nostalgic scent still finds its way to me despite all these years since.¡± He paused. ¡°But there wasn¡¯t much choice to be had at that time, and we were the lucky ones. Besides, I am content now in Reville. Say what you will about the Union, but they have removed many of the problem groups that used to plague this land.¡±


    ¡°Problem groups?¡±


    ¡°When we had originally come to Reville, many from Nima brought with them traditions I couldn¡¯t stand. But, that isn¡¯t a pleasant topic. I¡¯d rather talk about something else.¡±


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    ¡°Yes, let¡¯s.¡± Tien leaned forward, escaping from the bulky chair¡¯s clutches. Her hands fell on its arms tensely. They were lined with orbicular studs that ran up and around the front of the chair and down to its wooden base and frame. ¡°You said that man- err, beast, was your patient, correct?¡±


    Doctor Ogata Ryosai nodded again, calm as a saint in his temple. His home, his clinic was as tranquil as his own heart and mind it seemed. Beneath the occasional blinding glare of his glasses were eyes bathed in age and kindness. However, further within, one could glean that the man had seen gut-wrenching things in his youth. It was only natural given his occupation, especially when he had been in the business for a large portion of his earthly existence. ¡°He had come to me with a horrible heartache and a strange case of pneumonia. Well, I¡¯ll admit it wasn¡¯t quite that strange. He said many times that he had been wandering the streets at night¡­ in the winter, no less. You can imagine what I told him then. He did not listen to me, yet came to visit my clinic again and again regardless.¡±


    ¡°Do you have the patient¡¯s record or any kind of medical memorandum?¡±


    The bespectacled man sighed, a faint plume escaping his mouth. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. As I explained to that pompous duelist, my operating room which resides a block away was reduced to ashes. The record too, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know? Surely there¡¯s a chance it wasn¡¯t burned in the fire.¡±


    Ryosai chuckled, then plummeted into a mild coughing fit as he choked on the Tranquility smoke. ¡°Of course there¡¯s a chance, miss,¡± he said, regaining his composure. ¡°But when I say ¡®reduced to ashes¡¯, I am not spewing hyperbole. There was truly nothing left but myself.¡±


    ¡°What was his name?¡±


    He struggled with an answer, the question obviously forcing him to dig deep into faint memories. ¡°I honestly cannot recall his name. I don¡¯t think he ever told me, even when I asked.¡±


    The pitter-patter of rain soon sunk into the doctor¡¯s welcoming abode. The Vroque women sipped their tea, and Ryosai continued to smoke until the powder had all but burnt away. He raised the nearby window with some difficulty, then scattered the remnants into the wet soil below. The solemn sound of unceasing rain then permeated the home for a short while until the aged man finally closed the window once more and sat back down.


    ¡°Well, it has gotten quite late. You are all free to spend the night if you wish. I have more than enough bedding in the ward and many blankets. A walk through the rain does no one any good. Drives a person mad,¡± he said with a barely-noticeable smirk.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t heard that saying in a long time,¡± Sato replied with a somewhat dour expression. ¡°Mother used to say it a lot. She told me that back in Nima, many believed in evil spirits. There was a myth that they hid in falling raindrops and tranquil droplets, waiting for someone to touch them. If they did, there was a chance they¡¯d be possessed and sink deep into melancholy.¡±


    Tien smiled. ¡°Was that how they explained feeling moody during bad weather?¡±


    ¡°Hm. Probably. There were many outdated traditions and ways of thinking there, apparently. But it is an interesting thought.¡± Sato studied her umbrella leaning against the table, then turned to Doctor Ryosai. ¡°If you have the space, we don¡¯t mind. If we aren¡¯t a bother, that is.¡±


    ¡°No, Sato. You could never be a bother. Give me a moment while I go and set everything up.¡± He stood from his long rest, put his pipe into his right pocket, and left the room promptly.


    ¡°Sato,¡± Ma¡¯at suddenly whispered.


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°What you asked Raphael earlier, about a Union doctor. Does he work for the Union?¡± She tilted her head toward the back ward where Ryosai was making the beds.


    Sato pursed her lips, restraining a response.


    ¡°Whether or not he is, I get the feeling he¡¯s lying about¡­ something. Though, I can¡¯t quite place it.¡± Tien stood at their side with her suitcase in-hand. A dress shirt and tie made up her top as she had left the usual oversized overcoat she normally wore hanging from the tall chair behind her.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I can¡¯t trust him fully, but I¡¯m not sure why.¡± Ma¡¯at peered at Sato with a worried look plain on her face. ¡°Haah¡­ Look, you don¡¯t have to tell us now. But if you¡¯re unsure about something, let us know. We can face it together, just like everything else. Can¡¯t you trust us?¡±


    Sato¡¯s violet eyes almost seemed glazed over amidst the monotonous sound of falling rain. There was sadness in them, yet another color altogether. Conflicted emotions whirled around in a mess of shapes and shades around her irises. ¡°Yes¡­ of course I trust you two.¡± She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Ryosai had not finished yet. ¡°But¡­ I have to admit something. I¡¯m not here to investigate the origin of that hound. Not that I don¡¯t feel anything for him. I could¡­ feel his emotions after all. No. It¡¯s that I¡¯m investigating another case.¡± Her voice nearly fell on deaf ears, hushed almost to a complete silence. ¡°A personal case. Suspicions I need resolved.¡±


    ¡°Why are you being so cryptic all of a sudden?¡± Tien whispered back.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t want to say anything to sway you both in any direction. But you can help me. Stay up tonight until midnight. I¡¯ll be awake.¡±


    Confused yet ready to help their strange friend, Ma¡¯at and Tien nodded briefly before finally leaving the living room and finding their newly prepared bedsheets.


    And the solemn hand of night tightened its hold¡­ and time passed accordingly.


    Hard rain was the first thing Ma¡¯at heard as she stirred awake. It seemed that she had fallen asleep against her better judgment. Pale light wormed its way into her vision. Moonlight reflected off of observation mirrors, pill bottles, vials, and the slender windows at the other end of the sterile room.


    ¡°Ma¡¯at¡­ Ma¡¯at¡­!¡±


    Before she could slip back into dreams she couldn¡¯t even recall, a voice pulled her into reality.


    ¡°Wake up. It¡¯s time.¡± It was Tien, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her tone seemed deadly serious, even more so than she commonly was. There wasn¡¯t even a hint of excitement or intrigue in her words.


    Ma¡¯at saw Sato then, the Maiden¡¯s view obscured in shadow. Beneath the dark lines, her eyes danced across the torrent of droplets crashing down onto the clinic¡¯s rooftop.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan?¡± Tien asked her.


    ¡°Shhh. Look,¡± Sato said, pointing out the window. They saw a very odd sight where she had indicated. Unfamiliar people in ritualistic robes carrying talismans and holding bo staves prowled about the abandoned streets. The rain would have drenched them all if it weren¡¯t for the wide, circular-rim bamboo hats they all wore on their heads. They ran down the street in a hurry, yet still took precautions to avoid being seen in the shimmering lamplights.


    ¡°Who are they? I¡¯ve never seen anyone dress like them.¡± Ma¡¯at had left her bed and joined the duo.


    ¡°Monks,¡± Sato replied.


    ¡°Monks?¡±


    Sato nodded, her eyes still trained on their forms disappearing in the shower of water. ¡°Monks from the Kirinai Sect. They hold¡­ similar beliefs to my own. They worship our Deus Come Thus.¡±


    Tien turned to Sato. ¡°Did they come from Nima too?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and their petty fights with the Ojurai Clan would leave Reville in shambles every time. I don¡¯t remember much from those days¡­¡± She trailed off.


    The figures finally turned a corner and vanished from sight.


    ¡°Come on,¡± she suddenly said, donning her raincoat and running to the door. ¡°We have to follow them.¡±


    ¡°Hold on,¡± Ma¡¯at stopped her. ¡°Is this what your ¡®investigation¡¯ was about? Was this what you were waiting for?¡±


    Sato hesitated, then nodded.


    ¡°How did you know they were coming here?¡±


    She sighed, then let go of the doorknob and faced them fully. ¡°Do you remember what the Writer said this morning? About the ghost roaming the city.¡±


    Ma¡¯at scoffed. ¡°Yeah? They were just rumors. It was a nonsensical article in that newspaper he loves so much.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. Real or not, I believe these Kirinai monks are here to exorcise the specter. We have to follow them.¡±


    ¡°Why, Sato? Why do you care?¡±


    She fell silent. Her hand slowly made its way for the doorknob again.


    ¡°W-Wait, wait.¡± Ma¡¯at put her face in her palms, took a deep breath, and tried to meet her friend¡¯s avoidant gaze. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell us now. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll figure it out eventually. But, at least tell us what makes you so sure. How did you know these monks were even coming?¡±


    ¡°...The hound,¡± she divulged, turning the knob. ¡°I think¡­ I think it was one of them. One of the monks, driven mad. That¡¯s how I knew. Throughout the screams, throughout the burning pain in my head¡­ I managed to grasp onto some semblance of sanity. He told me they were hired as exorcists. He told me that they would be searching for the phantom at this time of day, at this exact moment. That¡¯s all.¡±


    They both nodded, the logic and its odd sense joining together like puzzle pieces in their minds.


    As she relayed the beast¡¯s psychic cries, Ma¡¯at observed, that the Maiden of the Rain held onto her tie tightly. As if she were a sailor amidst turbid waters and her black tie was the rope she held onto for dear life. As soon as Ma¡¯at opened her mouth to comfort her, however, Sato had already swung the door wide open and begun her march into the ceaseless downpour.

 Chapter 17: Downpour

    Sato didn¡¯t bother staying behind to block the torrent of rain from drenching Ma¡¯at and Tien. Her focus was solely dedicated to the Kirinai exorcists darting through the wet alleyways. They were searching high and low for their target with little success. Their silky robes, slightly damp from what amount of water managed to evade their glossy hats, still flowed elegantly in the scarcely lit shadows of the street.


    The Maiden ran after them, the cacophonous downpour drowning out her wild movements. Her colleagues followed despite her eccentric behavior. They followed her for a couple hours until many of the lit windows had gone dark, until some of the lamplights had been extinguished despite their metal covers, until the faint light of the moon peeking out through drifting black clouds started to paint the city in the same gloomy hue it always donned come midnight.


    ¡°This is ridiculous. They¡¯ll never find a ghost that doesn¡¯t exist. We¡¯ll be running after them and Sato all night at this rate,¡± Ma¡¯at wheezed, exasperated from the chase and her drenched clothes.


    Tien peeked around another corner as she had countless times already, spotted the stealthy monks and Sato lurking behind them yet again, then darted after them with Ma¡¯at shivering behind her. She was using her suitcase as a makeshift umbrella. Surprisingly, it held up quite well. Ma¡¯at guessed that it was either waterproof or enchanted in such a way that nothing as simple as rainwater could damage it. ¡°Let¡¯s hope not,¡± she mused.


    Ma¡¯at sighed harshly. The cold had finally gotten to her. If they didn¡¯t find what they were looking for soon, and she guessed they never would, then she would intervene in a much more direct and physical manner before subjecting herself to hypothermia.


    At last, the monks stopped and so too did their stalkers. One of them, dressed in much more ordained robes featuring higher quality material, stepped forward as if he were about to begin speaking to someone standing right before him. However, there was no one else in sight. He seemed to almost be smelling the air, sensing the locale for some spiritual activity of some sort.


    After a while, one of the junior monks stepped forward and handed him a small rectangular container made out of stone. Lifting the top, the exorcist took out a handful of mysterious powder and threw it in an arc in front of himself. Like a chef haphazardly throwing a dash of seasoning on a delicious meal, the monk chucked the powder away in a plume of sparkling dust that slowly settled to the drenched sidewalk. Luminescent, colorful stars filled the street corner and twinkled in the dusky moonlight.


    ¡°Praise to the all-compassionate, all-merciful Deus Come Thus. May we bask in everlasting light come our inevitable ends.¡± The man spoke resolutely, his hands in firm prayer.


    ¡°Praise. May we find purpose in pain and strife. May the ever-distant star lead us to experience and prosperous change.¡± The others spoke in unison, their hands in prayer as well. Dark wooden beads hung in loops around their fingers, ending in dangling tails that nearly reached their waists. They were tied together with red thread.


    The lead exorcist, after a moment of prayerful silence, raised his bo staff high above his head. Its end glistened with gold. He began humming an entrancing chant, the others following suit right afterwards. The quiet hymn filled the still night air.


    ¡°Haah. What are they doing now?¡± Ma¡¯at whispered. The two had finally caught up to Sato. Their colleague stood motionless watching the strange display.


    Sato shushed her just as she¡¯d done back at Ryosai¡¯s clinic. ¡°They found it. They¡¯re trying to draw it out.¡±


    ¡°Draw what out? You don¡¯t seriously believe there¡¯s a ghost here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not impossible, Ma¡¯at. You really don¡¯t think a ghost could exist after all you¡¯ve been through? Especially in this city. Crazy things happen all the time in this world.¡± Tien¡¯s little voice echoed from beneath her upheld case. The rainshower thumped on its surface like fingers absentmindedly tapping on a book cover.


    ¡°Exactly. I¡¯ve seen enough things to last me a lifetime. So, I guess it¡¯s not so much that I can¡¯t believe in it. I just don¡¯t want to.¡± The Sirithisian¡¯s charcoal hair that was so often fluffed up and chaotic had been rendered completely damp. It hung down, almost completely covering her piercing hazel eyes.


    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t fault you for that, I suppose.¡± The petite woman with eyes as blue as the daytime sky waddled over to her petrified friend and watched the ritual with her.


    ¡°Maybe they won¡¯t find anything, and my hunch is wrong.¡±


    Tien peeked up at Sato, then returned her gaze to the praying exorcists. ¡°Then what?¡±


    ¡°Then,¡± she started, pausing. ¡°Then we leave Ryosai a note and go on with our lives. Our relationship is awkward enough, he¡¯d understand. I only conjure up sad memories.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true. He said you weren¡¯t a burden. He said it himself.¡± She tilted her suitcase to one side to hold it up with one hand, then patted Sato¡¯s back with the other.


    ¡°Pleasantries. He just doesn¡¯t want me to feel bad. But he¡¯s the same as me, Tien. We both can¡¯t forget those times. We can¡¯t move on.¡±


    Tien¡¯s hand stalled, then returned to the case.


    ¡°Behold, kin of the Kirinai.¡± Suddenly, the head monk spoke loudly. ¡°The wraith is near. Be on guard.¡±


    The others followed his words, holding their weapons at the ready and standing in a defensive circular formation.


    The perceived threat was scarier when nothing came. The creaking of building signs, the deafening rain pounding the rooftops and pipe drains, the exorcist¡¯s barely audible chanting all sent worrisome pangs into Ma¡¯at¡¯s heart. Whether she believed in it or not, a dread had come to grow within her. As if the fear born wasn¡¯t from the notion of a wandering ghost at all but from the eerie thought that such a situation hadn¡¯t come to be for nothing. That such an event wouldn¡¯t have happened otherwise. That the phantom might just come to exist from the sheer belief the monks exhibited. That thought itself started to scare her. And for something so trivial to scare her was an achievement in and of itself. The fact that it did frighten her, too, deepened the fear welling up even more so. Until¡­


    ¡°Aaaagh!¡± One of the monks cried out, grabbing his head and grimacing in pain.


    ¡°What is the matter? What is wrong with you?¡± the exorcist asked, partially unconvinced that his student¡¯s pain was real.


    ¡°Aaaagh! It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s in my head¡­! Help!¡± he cried.


    ¡°Just hold on a moment, Lao¡¯mon. We must stand ready. There is-¡±


    Before the other student could finish, the trembling student, wet and grounded, stopped sobbing altogether. A second passed, then another, then it came. The overwhelming stench of blood and gore. The student¡¯s robes and flesh evaporated, as if torn off his body by some ungodly force. Brief flashes ignited the street momentarily like lightning, but no thunder sounded. A chill, familiar quiet hung in the air. In the student¡¯s place, a broken mess of wood, chains, and mangled body parts remained.


    ¡°Lao¡¯mon! What¡­! What has happened? Oh¡­¡± The student¡¯s supposed friend looked upon his entrails in agony, fell to his knees, and began vomiting profusely. Instinctual revulsion had run through his body instantaneously with no way of stemming the tide.


    Sato and Ma¡¯at ran over with Tien following behind, their weapons drawn.


    ¡°Stand your ground! It must be here!¡± The exorcist threw more arcs of shimmering powder into the air around them. Finally, he noticed the Vroque women approaching. ¡°Who are you people!? Leave! This is a sacred ritual we are conducting. Dangerous. Go! Now!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Sato shouted back. ¡°We¡¯re here to help. We-¡±


    The starry dust to their left ignited like a handful of firecrackers, alerting the exorcist of their foe¡¯s position. He took a flying leap toward the miniature explosions and reared back with his staff. In one smooth motion, he swooped down with it and hit the golden end onto the drenched cobblestone. As the staff had passed through the falling powder, it warped and swirled as if a spell had been cast.


    A rapturous chime sounded as the exorcist¡¯s weapon made contact with the ground. All at once, the dust exploded outwards and collided with the rest of the flowing powder around the group, disappearing into thin air. As the shimmering lights faded, though, a new light came into view.


    A faded, teal figure became lucent. Even as it stood motionless, it wavered like an entity that was barely holding onto the material world. Iron chains were wrapped around its torn clothes. Its face, although feminine and enchanting otherwise, was bruised and scarred. Its skin was paler than the lunar body hanging above the scene like a noose.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°O spirit, return to times beyond.¡± The exorcist drew back his staff and shook it elegantly. Rings of the same golden splendor as the end they dangled from rang out and jangled as he did so. They let out more pleasant chimes. ¡°Return to the side of our Deus Come Thus. Cross the ravine, o hallowed one, and rest peacefully with others among the Blissful Sleep.¡±


    The figure, its shadowy hair dancing behind it untethered by gravity, remained silent. It looked upon the group of Kirinai monks, then fell on Sato and stopped.


    ¡°Sato!¡± Ma¡¯at yelled, tugging at the sleeve of her colleague¡¯s favored raincoat to no avail.


    ¡°Mother¡­¡± she said, quietly at first. ¡°Mother! Is it¡­ is it really you¡­?¡±


    The wraith¡¯s eyes glowed fiercely, then more flashes of silent lightning struck the street with not one bystander to witness it. All fell into the dark. All fell into a slantwise slumber, unfettered by the loathsome shackles of reality. All was silent as a tomb. All was quiet, save for the distant ticking of a grandfather clock.


    ***


    On the seventh day of the third month of this year, a woman named Shino, a widow of the farmer Yosaku, late of this village, visited my residence and pleaded with me to perform a pulse diagnosis on her daughter, Sato (age 9), who, she said, was gravely ill.


    ¡°I shall remain forever in your debt, if only you will examine her pulse.¡± Shino did not accept Ryosai¡¯s repeated refusals. She threw herself down in the clinic entryway, sobbing, begging at his feet. Grabbing at his worn leather shoes. The rain was all there was to drown out her endless cries.


    ¡°Haah¡­ Miss Shino, I¡¯ve already refused you countless times. How can you still come begging and pleading when I¡¯ve already told you no?¡±


    ¡°I thought it was the duty of doctors to cure people¡¯s illnesses. I tell you that my daughter is gravely ill, and yet you ignore me. This, I cannot understand.¡±


    ¡°...How can you now ask someone like me, ¡®possessed by evil spirits¡¯, to cure your daughter of her grave illness? Instead, you should ask for help from your own ¡®Deus Come Thus¡¯ in whom you believe so deeply.¡±


    Her labored, hunched body spasmed from all the wailing. Her breaths were cracked and raspy from the shouting. Her body was wet from the rain, in lieu of her not owning an umbrella.


    ¡°What you¡¯ve said is not entirely unreasonable,¡± Ryosai spoke up after a moment of deliberation. He stared down at the sorrowful woman with no glee nor amusement. ¡°But your behavior as of late has been nothing short of shameful. This ¡®Kirinai Sect¡¯ you have joined; they are devils in disguise. Village folk have told me that these so-called monks preyed upon you after late Yosaku¡¯s death, is that correct? And they say these heathens pray before impalement racks. The same racks used by our own to torture those who have committed the most heinous of crimes.¡±


    Shino continued to cry and grovel.


    Ryosai¡¯s absent expression warped into a dour one filled with contempt. Not for the woman pleading before him, but for the ones that would take advantage of such an innocent person. ¡°They make a mockery of the true belief. Don¡¯t you see that?¡± He fell silent for a moment, composing himself as he always did when his emotions started to bleed through his mask of dignified doctoring. ¡°If you want me to perform a pulse diagnosis, you must first renounce your faith in the Kirinai Sect and never go back to it. Unless you agree to do so, I absolutely refuse to help you in any way professionally. Medicine may be, as they say, a compassionate art, but I also fear the dark punishments of our gods and watchers.¡±


    There was nothing she could say in response to such an argument. Recognizing that it would be futile to persist, she walked home, drenched in the endless rain, looking utterly dejected.


    On the next day, the ninth, a heavy rain began to fall at dawn and for a time the entire village seemed deserted. It was late when Shino arrived at my doorstep again without an umbrella, drenched to the skin.


    ¡°Have you made your choice? You must choose between your daughter¡¯s life or Deus Come Thus. You must ¡®fall¡¯ as they say; renounce the evil faith with all of your being. Only then will I help you.¡±


    Through more gushing tears and cries, Shino finally calmed herself and stood as a charming, dignified woman such as herself should have from the start. She reached into an inlaid pocket in her kimono, pulled out a ritualistic idol used for praying to her god, threw it to the floor and stomped on it for good measure. It cracked and splintered beneath both of her feet, the whole of her body¡¯s weight barely being enough to destroy the crudely-made item.


    ¡°There!¡± she cried. ¡°I have fallen. I¡­ I have turned my back on Deus Come Thus. Now, you must save my daughter¡¯s life! Please, I beg of you! Do not let my fall be in vain! Give her the treatment she needs to live!¡±


    Ryosai, at last, allowed the wall between him and the widow to fall to dust and disrepair. He knelt down and picked up the broken pieces of her shattered idol, placing them neatly in his large coat pockets. ¡°Then, I shall do as you ask, as you have done as I asked of you. Bring your daughter here, and I will do all that I can to help her.¡±


    As if the moment before and the days of wailing lamentation had never happened, Shino fell into an ecstatic frenzy, jumping up and down, hugging the young doctor with all her might. ¡°Oh, thank you. Thank you! I¡¯ll fetch her right away and bring her to you, as you said. Our home is not far from this place.¡± She released Ryosai from her clutches and swung open the clinic door in a mad dash.


    ¡°Wait a moment, Miss Shino.¡±


    She looked back to see the doctor standing in the doorway, a baroque black steel umbrella in his hand. ¡°Please, my dear, use this. I fear you will fall under the very same illness as your own daughter either way, but this rain and the cold will only increase that probability.¡±


    ¡°I cannot. It looks very expensive. There is no way I could ever pay you back. We are very poor, you see, and-¡±


    Ryosai shook his head fervently. ¡°I do not need payment, woman! Just take the damn thing and walk home without freezing to death. If you were to catch a cold and die on the way there, what would your dear daughter do, hm?¡± He pushed it into her hands. ¡°Now, go. Bring Sato here.¡±


    Shino stepped back into the rain and opened the umbrella.


    Fwoom!


    A tiny smile appeared on her ruby red lips. Dry as a sheet, the rain tumbled down the sleek canopy and onto the ground, keeping her warm just as the doctor had promised. ¡°Th-Thank you, Doctor. I¡¯ll be going now.¡± And with that, the widow disappeared into the rainy night.


    At the end of midnight and the eve of morning, Shino returned to my residence with her daughter in tow. We made her a small bed in my ward in a cramped little room. Her body was extremely hot to the touch and she seemed barely conscious.


    ¡°You were right. She is very near death. I will try my best, but¡­ there is very little I can do with what I have. For now, she must rest.¡±


    Doctor Ryosai and Shino spoke to one another in the quaint living room. The solemn ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner continued on, unbothered, as time often is in such situations.


    ¡°I understand. Please, use all the resources at your disposal. Sato¡­ She is all that matters to me in this world. More than any god or tyrant. She is all I care about.¡± Shino began to weep and sob once more, and thus, Ryosai comforted her and stroked her back.


    Overcome with grief that wasn¡¯t even his own, Ryosai shed a single tear. It went unseen even to Shino, who¡¯s raspy cries had dwindled to a very quiet weighted breath. She had become drowsy from her insomnia and anxiety, though she couldn¡¯t fall asleep.


    ¡°You¡­ you were born in Nima, yes?¡±


    Shino nodded, her eyes closed.


    ¡°It makes me sad, at times. Patients come and go. I¡¯ve treated so many and have had countless die in my arms that it is hard to shed tears for them anymore.¡± The doctor took off his glasses and set them down on a table. ¡°But there is one thing that drives me to sob just as you have over your daughter. It is in the late hours of the night, when I am sitting at my study, that I open the windows and am greeted by the alien sky above. The endless ramshackle homes across the way. The Tri-Junction along the main road, and the Eastern Mudflats far out on the horizon. It is all so terribly unfamiliar to me. But then, just as I lament over my homesickness, a nostalgic spring fragrance comes to me through a slight breeze. And I am overcome with emotion. And memories. The red plum blossoms. The pink blossoms.¡±


    ¡°The devil flowers,¡± Shino said suddenly, catching Ryosai off-guard.


    ¡°Devil flowers?¡±


    ¡°My husband used to call them that,¡± she responded despondently. ¡°He hated that feeling. He would feel the same way as you do. But it would make him terribly angry, so much so that he would beat me senseless. That terrible, nostalgic, beautiful spring breeze forever blows through this land, torturing us. ¡®It¡¯s carried by the ocean wind all the way from Nima,¡¯ he used to say. I never believed him, but now, since his passing, I think he was right.¡±


    An hour passed, and Shino had long fallen asleep. Overwhelmed by an intense sadness and tiredness, Ryosai left her to rest on the couch and fell asleep in his bedroom near the clinical ward.


    The next morning, however, when I performed yet another pulse examination, I found that Shino¡¯s daughter had died in her sleep. Shino had already lost her mind out of grief, deranged and clutching at the corpse, loudly intoning her bizarre sutras.


    ***


    ¡°Died? That¡¯s not-¡± Sato stopped herself. What happened? Once, she had been on the street corner with Ma¡¯at, Tien, and the monks, when a familiar phantom appeared. Then, suddenly, there was only darkness to greet her. An eerie voice, that of her childhood doctor, had resonated within her mind. Now, she was alone in a partial recreation of Ryosai¡¯s clinic. In her little room with the tiny bed and the slender window. ¡°But¡­ I¡¯m not dead.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sato. You are alive and well,¡± a voice emanated from behind her. She spun around, her raincoat swirling in a circle around her body, to see Doctor Ryosai.


    ¡°Is that¡­ you? The real you? The present you?¡± Her mind whirled around in spirals, countless questions finding their way out of her mouth.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s me. Do you want to know why I¡¯m here?¡±


    Sato nodded. An uncomfortable feeling stretched and twisted her stomach.


    ¡°The hound you resonated with, Sato. He was a Kirinai monk, as you know already. You see, he had come to me with pneumonia. That was no lie. However, he had mentioned something very peculiar as I spoke with him about his illness. That he was an exorcist searching for a ghost. A weeping specter in the form of a young widow, wandering the streets on rainy nights. You are a very smart girl, Sato, even if you try to suppress your intelligence. I¡¯m sure you can imagine what came to my mind then. The same thought that came to yours, no doubt.¡±


    ¡°Mother¡­¡± Sato replied, trailing off in rumination.


    ¡°I believe it is truly her, or a fragment of her. We want the same thing, my dear. We both want Shino back. You understand what I¡¯m getting at. I am¡­ so very tired of it all. When I saw her, I didn¡¯t care one bit for my own safety. I dove in when she cast this strange spell¡­ and here we are. It seems that these are our memories. Lingering thoughts and emotions. Perhaps¡­ they were things your mother dearly wished to tell you before she passed.¡±

 Chapter 18: Resurrection

    A window that barely let through any light at all. In terms of translucency and width, the object had failed at both. Dust caked on its inside surface sparkled under what weak rays of moonlight could find it amidst the crowded, ramshackle alleyways in which the clinic operated. Putting its abnormal height aside, the rectangular looking glass was much too thin to see anything of note out of it anyway. Dust be damned, it wouldn¡¯t matter. The window simply was there to let in a dismal handful of sunshine for child patients who were already at death¡¯s door. A bit of nature¡¯s sympathy and grace for those dealt a bad hand. But no sunlight found its way to her. To the widow¡¯s daughter.


    No. For little Sato, daughter of Shino, there was naught but darkness. An abyssal night sky peeking over dirty rooftops was all the child could see when she woke to her own hacking and coughing. Pouring rain flitted across the filthy glass as if to taunt her. As if to tell her that she would no longer see the sun again. That she would only see an eternal night, and that daylight would never arrive to drench her in celestial warmth. She could barely manage the strength to sit up and peer through the window.


    With what modicum of sight she had, she saw what her heaving coughs had expelled onto the back of her hand. Dark, dry droplets of blood dotted her skin like an abstract expressionist painting. More coughs. And yet, more dry coughs. Her throat was sore and scratchy. It hurt to breathe.


    Even so, she didn¡¯t call for her mother. Nor did she shout for the doctor. She didn¡¯t want to, and she wondered why. Was she afraid? Was her voice too hoarse to carry her wish to Ryosai¡¯s ears? It was far more trivial than that. Simply, she couldn¡¯t bear to burden her mother anymore. The torrent of tears and remorseful wailing had struck an odd cord deep within her. She was tired. Tired of making Shino sad.


    So, she gripped her rag of a blanket and stared out the dismal window in complete silence. She counted raindrops. She studied every nook, cranny, and crevice along the sides of the makeshift buildings and walkways. She hoped it would lull her back to sleep.


    The Maiden of the Rain took a few weary steps forward, her face and hair painted blue in the window gleam, and rested a hand on the wall beside the bed frame. She stood and stared down at the silent girl watching the rain. Little Sato didn¡¯t notice her one bit, as if they were a part of two completely different worlds.


    ¡°So it¡¯s true. You don¡¯t remember, do you?¡±


    ¡°I really don¡¯t. None of this is familiar to me in the slightest.¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be so surprised. You were young, yes, but to recall such a memory would be fighting a losing battle with one¡¯s own mind.¡±


    Sato took a deep breath, then sighed. The monotonous pattering of water droplets on the steel plates and beams outside accentuated the pause. ¡°You loved her.¡±


    Ryosai¡¯s shimmering eyeglasses pointed straight at Sato¡¯s back. Not an inch of his face twitched at the woman¡¯s sudden statement. ¡°You could say that. Though, I don¡¯t think I realized until it was far too late. Love is a fickle beast. I can¡¯t say I understand it, even at my age. It is a shapeshifter. A deceiver. One day, she was just another sobbing client grasping at my heels. Crying. Shouting at me. The next, without me even realizing, I had been utterly entranced.¡±


    Sato didn¡¯t respond. Her eyes shimmered just as Ryosai¡¯s glasses did in the light of the dingy window. The sky above had begun to lighten up as stars started to burn through the cold night air.


    ¡°Your mother was so incredibly fragile. I was amazed when she managed to break her beloved idol.¡± He reached into one of his overly large coat pockets and revealed a bunch of splintered wooden pieces that seemed to have made up a greater whole long ago. ¡°She must have used all her strength to do it. All her weight. Her whole heart. I don¡¯t believe you understand how much she sacrificed for you.¡±


    Sato turned her head to look back at Ryosai and his extended hand. ¡°Of course I do. Even if this is all new to me¡­ even if I can¡¯t place myself here¡­ I¡¯ve seen them now. Her memories. And even then, there are many things I remember from before those bygone days.¡±


    Ryosai returned his hand and the wooden pieces to his pocket.


    ¡°Dozens of days and nights she worked for me. Made me dinner. Took care of me. Loved me despite the sickness. Despite the burden.¡± Her face tensed as she continued to stare at the young girl trying to fall asleep. ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe this is me. That I would resort to staying silent and suffering just so Mother could rest. How stupid could I be¡­? This¡­ is the last thing she would want from me. All she wanted¡­ was for me to live happily.¡± Tears rolled over her eyelids and dripped onto her raincoat. They traveled down the beautiful tarpaulin like miniature rivers carving their way through unknown lands. ¡°How do I do it, Doctor? How do I carry on with this hole in my heart?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I do not know. That is why I decided to take the leap. If there is even a sliver of a possibility that she can be brought back, then I can hope. I can live with the expectation that I will see her again.¡± The image of Shino, umbrella in her hand, looking back at him in the rainshower, flashed in his mind. It was a mental photograph his brain had taken without his consent, but he was overwhelmingly thankful for the memory. It was a moment so dear to him that to even recall fragments of it brought a warm smile to his cold demeanor.


    Sato exhaled in feigned amusement. ¡°You know, for a doctor, you really don¡¯t think these things through, huh?¡±


    Ryosai lightly chuckled, though his face was as stern as always. A rare expression that he would only show to a few select people. ¡°You¡¯re right. Whether or not it¡¯s truly a ghost or some Paracosmic echo, the fact it exists remains the same. And, seeing as how it distorted its surroundings with fragments of the past, I think the latter is likely its true nature. However, be it a phantom or a memory, it is a fragment of Shino. It has to be. Otherwise, we wouldn¡¯t be here. Call me a fool. Berate me with cruel words. But there is still a chance that we could pull her back to this side, Sato. I believe in the possibility with all my heart, as Shino believed in you. Surely, she will heed my call. She¡¯s with Her, now. And they¡¯ve both had their fair share of losses.¡±


    Sato grew confused. It sounded like Ryosai wasn¡¯t even talking about Shino anymore. Rather, he mumbled on about concepts foreign to her.


    Before she could interrupt and ask, the slender window drew their attention for a second time, and they joined young Sato in quiet wonderment.


    The night sky that had denied her happiness in her final moments had opened up. Its wispy wings unfolded, its heaving rib cage filled with nebulae breathed and expanded, and a shower of stars rained down alongside the rainstorm. Infinitely gorgeous, beautiful azure gradients swathed the city. A sea of heavenly bodies lighting the world. Gods of fire and life igniting the pitch black avenues. Beauty unmatched and indescribable with mere words. Language was utterly null and void when it came to the stunning display outside little Sato¡¯s rickety windowpane. Reville found itself coated in alien, neon colors the likes of which its bygone residents had never seen before in their entire lives. Violet and blue. Swirls of purple and cyan. Brushstrokes of bittersweet melancholy. The window was splattered with hundreds of wayward droplets filled to the brim with reflective, swirling colors of the same hue. Infinitely reflected. Every atom, every molecule bounced around to the tune of a hymn, of a song that went unheard but was felt by millions. A spectacle for the world, and for one dying girl who peered up at the sky with a fading yet blissful smile. A pure, childlike smile. She didn¡¯t have to understand what was happening, only to enjoy it while it was. It was. Then, it wasn¡¯t. But the colors remained in her irises. In her corneas. That endlessly reflecting palette lingered inside her eyes. Stardust swirled in circles as she stared into space. Then, the vastness cleared, and the beauty faded.


    With it, little Sato had finally been drained of the last of her energy. She was very, very sleepy. She drew the ragged blanket up to her chest, her cold toes peeking out at the other end, and she slipped into faded, forming dreams. But the dreams would never form. The young girl passed away long before they could. Her mind went blank, and the little light of life within was snuffed out like a dying match flame.


    Yet, the rain continued to pound.


    And a stifling, grim silence descended down upon the small room where it once was pleasantly quiet.


    ¡°What¡­?¡±


    Ryosai ripped his eyes away from the girl¡¯s corpse and returned his gaze to the dark sky.


    ¡°What¡­¡±


    He sighed, then took a step or two forward and placed a hand on Sato¡¯s shoulder to comfort her. ¡°This¡­ is when you succumbed to your illness. No one could have remembered this but you, Sato. Of course, I believed you when you said you couldn¡¯t remember this moment. It wasn¡¯t because you were young. It was because this was the moment of your death.¡±


    Sato didn¡¯t respond. Her violet eyes swirled in vibrant circles.


    ¡°You must have subconsciously suppressed the memory. Though you couldn¡¯t recall it, I was sure it was at the very back of your mind. It seems that whatever Shino did, it managed to draw up the event like a bucket draws water from a deep, deep well.¡±


    ¡°It really happened¡­ I¡­ died¡­?¡±


    ¡°Know that there was nothing I could have done for you. I gave you what I had. Infusion medicine. Anything and everything to keep you alive. I had to let you rest. An ill child cannot miss a night of sleep, and if you had endured it all, I am sure you would have made it. I¡¯m sure you would have survived. ¡­But, this is the truth. You died in your sleep.¡±


    The joyous smile young Sato had during the starshower continued posthumously. She looked as though she were in the middle of a pleasant dream.


    Sato composed herself, nodding and peering down at her own corpse with welling tears. ¡°What was it, Doctor? What was that light in the sky?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know the absolute truth,¡± Ryosai replied slowly. ¡°I know only what I know. If I had any inkling to what it might have been¡­ then I would guess that it was a Night of Falling Stars.¡±


    ¡°A Night of Falling Stars?¡± Sato repeated.


    Ryosai nodded. ¡°It is a very rare occurrence. It has only happened twice in my lifetime.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°A special night in which the stars appear to fall like rain across the sky down to the earth below. Back when villages much like our own used to occupy the Outlands, those who lived there prized it greatly. Whether it was religious or not, I am not sure. It could have been a simple tradition. But Outlanders once believed that all the stars in the sky were the souls of those who loved you in life. That they would shine down upon you and only you. That only you could gaze upon their luster. And¡­ they believed that there was a chance for these stars to descend down to Aeos.¡±


    ¡°Descend¡­¡±


    ¡°It was more complicated than that. The stars were no more than concepts to them than true astral bodies. They didn¡¯t see balls of flame light years away from us, no. They could look up at the sky and hear the laughter and see the smiles of dead loved ones. When one of them would reach the earth, it was considered a serious sin to ever touch or communicate with them. They would say that these stars were wish-granting, omnipotent creatures. Outlanders were not fond of fire, not to mention magic of any kind.¡±


    Sato absorbed the information in silence. Her discomfort born from being in the same room as her own deceased body was outweighed by the brilliant mystery of the stars that had appeared before her untimely demise. What could they mean? Why had such a thing happened at that exact moment in time? It couldn¡¯t have been a coincidence¡­ could it? She thought long and hard. ¡°How do you know so much about this?¡±


    ¡°I saw the very same Night of Falling Stars as you did, Sato. The very same miracle. I had been woken up in the middle of the night by torturous nightmares and couldn¡¯t sleep. I left the clinic to go for a walk when it happened. That was so very long ago, and yet, I was convinced it had to do with you and Shino¡¯s death. It was right before then, after all. I researched it, but found no solace.¡±


    ¡°...Okay.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have another question on your mind? A simple one, yet the most important one?¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Sato wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and took another sharp, deep breath in and out. Her irises glowed in the dusky ward like some nocturnal animal caught on film. ¡°Yes. I was afraid to move on¡­ but I¡¯m ready now. How? How have I died and come back to life? It doesn¡¯t make sense.¡±


    Doctor Ryosai closed his eyes, his lenses completely translucent and devoid of blinding reflections. He nodded, then opened them again. ¡°Then, let us take a walk through that door. It will surely lead to the next memory. It should be one of my own.¡± He pointed to a darkened door frame that seemed to absorb any light that came near it.


    Reluctantly, Sato nodded in agreement.


    The two entered the shadowy door in stride.


    ***


    On the next day, the tenth, a light rain fell starting at dawn, followed by a spring thunder shower late in the hour of the dragon. I set out at the behest of a client, but when I came as far as Shino¡¯s house, I encountered an angry crowd of villagers.


    The gathering shouted at each other about the Kirinai Sect and ¡®occultist magecraft¡¯ with so much intensity that Ryosai couldn¡¯t get his horse to obey him and pass by the city folk uninvolved.


    Past the crowd, there were three priests in black garments holding up wooden idols as if they were waving large flags. In fact, they were of the very same shape and make as the idol poor Shino had destroyed right in front of him. Ryosai, upon pushing some belligerent civilians to the side, saw them and immediately recognized them as such. The priests held up ornate staffs and chanted in repetition.


    ¡°Praise to the all-compassionate, all-merciful Deus Come Thus. May we bask in everlasting light come our inevitable ends.¡±


    ¡°Heretics!¡± a villager yelled from across the way.


    ¡°Blasphemy! You¡¯ll go to Hell for this!¡±


    The head priest ignored the rants. He handed one of his assistants his staff, then revealed a stone tablet from underneath his robes and had one of his other assistants hold it up perfectly flat on his palms. Then, procuring a stone capsule from his bag, he shifted its top and took out a handful of starry powder.


    One of the rioting villagers attempted to throw a broken bottle at the occultists, but his hand was stopped by the village headman and his guards. Whether or not it was a religious practice that aligned with his own or anyone there, he respected it and allowed the ritual to continue. Though, the action was most likely born out of being intrigued about what was going to transpire rather than benevolent compassion.


    The same intrigue that gripped the headman had reached Ryosai¡¯s heart as well. At last, as he pushed past the last row of people, he saw what the commotion was truly about. Crouching at the feet of the head priest, her hair in disarray, was Shino, clutching her daughter Sato.


    ¡°S-Shino¡­! What are you doing? What are they doing!?¡± Ryosai darted back and forth from the abnormal scene and the rambling men beside him.


    ¡°Witchcraft! Dark magic!¡±


    ¡°Sorcery! It doesn¡¯t matter! The headman is a heretic, too!¡±


    The angry villagers were silenced by the guards once more. They didn¡¯t take any slight against their boss too kindly.


    Shino remained oblivious to Ryosai¡¯s inquiries, lost in her own world as she clutched her daughter¡¯s corpse and mumbled to herself.


    After some more preparations, the head priest raised a hand and asked the crowd for silence. When they did not comply, the headman made them. Following threats and actions of violence, silence was finally brought to the ritual. The priest made a circle of powder around Sato and Shino, then blew the last of it onto the raised stone tablet.


    An odd sensation filled the area. One of the other priests handed the head priest back his ornate staff.


    With several flourishes, he raised it high into the sky, and a solemn chime resonated throughout the street. Then, he slammed it down on the dusty tablet with considerable force, and following the abrupt action, the powder instantly erupted into violet flames.


    The tablet-carrier knelt down beside the mother and daughter, lowered the flaming stone to chest height, then blew the conflagrated dust onto the circle that had been drawn moments before. The violet blaze carried forth into the powder circle, surrounding Sato and Shino, cornering them with no escape. That is, if they tried to leave it, they would be burned severely. Burn wounds were no easy thing to fix with modern medicine.


    ¡°Almighty Deus Come Thus. Please, hear our call. Trade a life for the star-touched. Trade the unworthy soul for the blessed. We call unto you, asking you for a simple trade, though we are aware of our greed. Be it blind luck or divine favor, set the balance right if you do hear us. Tip the scales for those chosen by the stars.¡±


    ¡°Tip the scales¡­? What does he mean?¡± Ryosai desperately asked.


    ¡°I believe,¡± an elderly villager replied, shaking his head, ¡°that he aims to give the dead child life again in return for this woman¡¯s vitality.¡±


    ¡°What!? That¡¯s-¡± Realization struck his nerves like a bolt of lightning. The doctor rushed forward to stop the ceremony, but the arcane flames were too much for him. When he stepped closer, they grew hotter and fiercer with every step. There was no saving her without burning her and himself alive. There was no choice to be made. Nothing he could do. Self-loathing and hatred boiled deep in the pit of his stomach as he slowly stepped back and rejoined the perplexed crowd.


    The light rainstorm briefly became aggravated. Thunder roared over the priests¡¯ chants. The wind picked up, hurling bits of junk and trash across the muddy roads. The violet flames blazed brighter than they had before, so much so that Ryosai was convinced that Shino and her daughter would be nothing but ash once they calmed.


    Fortunately, he was wrong. The spring shower returned to its light drizzle and wispy winds, and with it, the fervent flames calmed and were extinguished altogether. As they faded from view, the two women were revealed once more wreathed in ash, as if reborn from the smoldering cinders. Incredibly, Sato had her arms wrapped around her mother¡¯s neck and was intoning her name in a sweet little voice.


    But Shino no longer cried for her, nor did she mumble or intone any Kirinai sutras. For a minute, she still lay clutching Sato dearly with unyielding maternal strength. Even that strength, given time, faltered. Her body relaxed, her legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the ground, dead.


    Since ancient times, there have been not a few examples of people dying and coming back to life, but most of these have been cases of alcohol poisoning or of contact with natural miasmas. However, Sato did come back to life. This account, then, should serve to illustrate the heterodox practices of the Kirinai Sect. In addition, let me note that the spring shower produced intense thunder just as the priest left this village as well. I take this to mean that Heaven was showing its abhorrence for him.


    ***


    The memory turned opaque, drained of color and rendered black and white. The Maiden of the Rain solemnly strode into the center of the ritual site, and Ryosai followed with his hands firmly in his pockets.


    For the first time since she¡¯d reunited with him following the defeat of the hellhound, the doctor had little to say. His face, too, was contorted into a strange expression. A vicious cocktail of emotions, she assumed, was brewing inside him. Though, she couldn¡¯t blame him. She too didn¡¯t have any remarks, smart questions nor long-winded speeches. The final memory had answered anything she could have asked, and had left her with nothing but ash and oblivion.


    Ryosai knelt down near Shino¡¯s recreated form and clasped his hands in prayer.


    After some deliberation, Sato did the same. A quiet moment of reprieve and grief followed, then faded.


    ¡°...The Kirinai were banished afterward. Any who dare step foot into Reville today are branded criminals on the spot. And the village headman, Yazaemon, was stripped of his title.¡±


    Sato faced Ryosai, her raincoat donned, her umbrella at her side, as it always was. ¡°You wish they had never done it, don¡¯t you? That Mother should have kept living and that I should have remained a corpse.¡±


    The doctor gave no audible reply. Instead, he adjusted his glasses and lowered his head. His eyes fell to the ground where Shino¡¯s monochromatic cadaver lay.


    ¡°Of course you do,¡± Sato said, a sad smile pursing her lips. ¡°I felt the same, at first. This memory is one I did remember, Doctor. But I didn¡¯t remember it correctly. I didn¡¯t have the context, after all. I had always believed that the ritual had gone wrong, that the Kirinai themselves were not at fault, that what happened was nothing more than a random tragedy. But, this¡­ this was no gamble. The ritual was performed perfectly, wasn¡¯t it? It¡¯s what she wanted from the beginning.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he replied, a touch of sorrow in his voice. ¡°She had told me that night. The night before you died; that she valued you more than anything in the world, even herself. I should have known. I was so foolish back then. If only I had kept a closer eye on her. If only-¡± He stopped himself, his sentence cut in twain. ¡°No. There is no point in dwelling on mistakes that I can never take back. That¡¯s why¡­ I¡¯ll never make the same mistakes a second time. I¡¯ll never let her out of my reach, never let her destroy herself again. It¡¯s the only way.¡±


    The memory began to distort. Ripples in the fabric of reality started to tear the world around them, revealing the truth beyond.


    ¡°Sato¡­! Can you hear us!?¡±


    ¡°Hey, dummy! It¡¯s Tien! The entity¡¯s weakening! You should be out of there soon!¡±


    A warmth tinged the Maiden¡¯s visage. It was the voices of Ma¡¯at and Tien. Her friends were working on freeing them all this time.


    ¡°No¡­! Don¡¯t tell me they¡¯re harming her? Tell them, Sato. Tell them to stop. Tell them that it¡¯s her. Tell them that they¡¯re hurting Shino!¡± Ryosai pleaded.


    Sato pondered, deep in contemplative rainwater, while Ryosai shouted into the mesmerizing tears appearing around them. Then, she pointed the sharp end of her baroque umbrella straight at him. ¡°Doctor, listen to me. That wandering ghost¡­ it¡¯s not her. It can¡¯t be Mother.¡±


    Ryosai went quiet suddenly and looked at Sato as if she were a raving madwoman. ¡°You can¡¯t mean that. How do you know? What makes you so sure?¡±


    ¡°Because the woman you fell in love with, and the woman who raised me, would never hurt a fly. You said it yourself, didn¡¯t you? That she was so incredibly fragile. Ephemeral, like a spider¡¯s thread in the wind. But it was her strength, her endurance despite her powerlessness that utterly captivated you. I know. I¡¯ve seen them. Your memories.¡± She smiled in spite of herself. ¡°She truly was beautiful that night underneath the rain, holding this very umbrella. Nobody could forget such a sight.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­ I won¡¯t believe it! It has to be her! I know it. If it isn¡¯t, then¡­ then how do I carry on like this, Sato? How do I carry on like nothing happened? I can¡¯t stand it anymore. I can¡¯t keep pretending I still have a reason to go on¡­¡±


    Sato turned to look down at her resurrected self, a young girl caked in dirt and ash, tears flooding down the young girl¡¯s cheeks. She gripped her umbrella blade firmly and narrowed her eyes on Ryosai once more. They burned a mesmerizing violet, and in turn, Ryosai¡¯s glasses reflected the vivid color. ¡°Since that day, there has always been a hole in my heart. Like an incomplete jigsaw puzzle. A missing piece that can never be replaced. That void may be the source of all my fear¡­ all my sadness¡­ but it¡¯s there nonetheless. It¡¯s proof that Mother existed. That she did all she could for my sake. ¡­How could I possibly dishonor her struggle by giving up now? No. This loss is a burdensome weight, but it¡¯s a weight I will forever carry with pride. Until the day I¡¯m buried beneath warm soil, I will live happily, come rain or shine.¡±


    Following her words, the Maiden of the Rain diverted her focus from Ryosai to the largest of the tears peeling across thin air. With one rain-drenched slash, she cut open the tear as wide as she could. Ryosai attempted to stop her, but he was far too late. The tear split completely open, weakening the abstracting dimension they were trapped in. Eventually, the threads keeping the static memory held together firmly snapped and came undone. A blindingly white fugue enveloped them both, and they were promptly returned to reality.


    Sato and Doctor Ryosai appeared in the middle of the storm¡¯s wake. The rain had continued to flood the streets of Reville, and the specter had put up quite the fight. All of the Kirinai exorcists apart from the head monk and his apprentice had been reduced to shattered bones and mutilated flesh. The phantom had many wounds in it. Spectral cuts in its chest and abdomen.


    ¡°Sato! Ryosai! Are you two alright?¡± Tien shouted over the raging storm. Her voice could barely be heard between the never-ending downpour, the howling winds, and the banshee¡¯s shrieking.


    ¡°Haah¡­ We¡¯re fine!¡± she responded, but her enthusiasm was cut short. The weeping ghost drifted toward her and Ryosai, her claw of a hand outstretched to cut them in half.


    The doctor knew his fate was sealed. He raised his arms, awaiting the coming end.


    Before its claw reached him, however, it was blocked by the dark plume of the Maiden¡¯s umbrella canopy. It was extended outward, acting as a shield against the oncoming attack.


    Making use of the short opening, Ma¡¯at ran to the specter¡¯s side and slashed upward with both blades, cleaving its arms off. The incorporeal limbs flew out into the street, then faded from existence. The ghost let out an ear-piercing cry.


    ¡°Wait! Wait!¡± Ryosai cried.


    Ma¡¯at halted, her blades raised aloft to deal the finishing blow. It wasn¡¯t Ryosai¡¯s voice that stopped her, though, but Sato¡¯s forlorn expression.


    ¡°Just¡­ allow me to converse with her. I only want to confirm my suspicions.¡± The doctor approached the apparition with caution, his hands raised to try to calm the creature. ¡°Shino, if it¡¯s truly you, I just have one thing to say. I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m sorry. I wish I could have done more for you and Sato. I wish I had done more for her instead of abandoning her in my grief. There was no way I could have taken care of a child when I had lost the will to take care of myself. I wish¡­ I wish that we had met under better circumstances.¡±


    The entity¡¯s shrieking had stopped. Its pale eyes gazed lifelessly at Ryosai as if it were really listening to him.


    He reached into his pockets and took out the shattered pieces of Shino¡¯s idol. Holding them with both hands, he offered them to the specter. ¡°Please, my dear. Accept it. You can repair it, good as new. You can believe in any god you want, the Monarch or Deus Come Thus, I don¡¯t care. Just¡­ please¡­ come back to us.¡±


    What happened next, at least how it was described, varied from person to person. Ma¡¯at, Tien, Sato and Ryosai experienced similar yet different things. Although, Ryosai¡¯s version was the most pleasant, and brought him to a catharsis that seemed impossible beforehand.


    The specter¡¯s form, in his view, appeared less ghastly during its final moments. Its form was distorted and wavering, but it seemed as if it really were Shino¡¯s soul given form through his eyes. Spindly light coalesced around one of its severed limbs, creating for it a new arm temporarily. With it, it took the pieces of Shino¡¯s crushed idol into its palm and held them close to its heart. Very, very quiet voices could be heard. Distant voices. Repeating memories and emotions held within the wooden shards. The ghost closed its teary eyes, smiled, then faded away in the winter wind.


    And the storm began to subside as the echo drifted out of sight.


    That was when Dr. Ogata Ryosai fell to his knees, his clinical facade shattered, and he started to weep. And cry. But, for the first time in decades, he was not alone in his sadness. Sato joined him, side by side on the street corner, their pants wet from the countless puddles on the ground, and cried for a woman that would never return.

 Chapter 19: Odd Jobs

    The mourning tide had at once receded a while after the incident with Ryosai and the mysterious ghost that had faded without a trace. It had vanished just as suddenly as it had begun appearing around the city and cursing nightwalkers with its eerie weeping. With winter¡¯s end barely in sight, spring¡¯s light didn¡¯t seem as distant as it once was. And so time marched on.


    On one of Reville¡¯s many street corners, there was an old, gaunt tree. Like a grotesque, boney hand, it hung over the quaint area. Crooked shadows were cast by its creaking limbs, coating the dark-skinned woman sitting under it in black zig-zagging lines. As the pitiful wind shook them, the shadows followed their erratic dance. It was a nice, slightly overcast day. White, fluffy battleships swam at a snail¡¯s pace across the sky along with the actual airships that outpaced them by miles. Streaks of blue and gray.


    Ma¡¯at took a sip from the coffee laid out across her palm. Its heat warmed her cold hands. The cafe down the road had let her take it outside as long as she returned the cup when she was done. She was simply enjoying the invigorating drink while soaking up the scenery. It was only early in the morning when she could have that kind of silence. Contemplative, relaxing, quiet.


    ¡°Ma¡¯at~!¡± a free-spirited voice called out, slightly startling her.


    She turned her head, her dark hair ebbing and flowing with the movement and a tiny gust that blew past. It was a woman with beautiful eyes wearing an equally beautiful raincoat. She turned back to her drink to take a sip and ignored the ¡®stranger¡¯ heading in her direction. At least, she hoped it was just a lookalike.


    ¡°What did I say about ignoring me, hm?¡± Sato revealed her umbrella seemingly out of nowhere and started to raise it. An attack?


    Sensing a sudden violent aura bursting from her, Ma¡¯at quickly drew her attention back to the oddly-garbed girl. She winced and held her free hand up to block whatever was heading her way. ¡°Ack!¡±


    But no such attack came. The Maiden walked past her colleague briskly and elegantly took a seat on the bench next to her. ¡°Why is your hand up like that? Is that some new gesture for saying hi? Or¡­¡± Air escaped her lungs in a gasp. ¡°Or, is it a secret handshake!? I¡¯ve always wanted to have a secret handshake with friends! Tien always says she¡¯s too busy to practice one, though¡­¡± She gloomily mumbled the last part, leaning her umbrella against the other side of the bench.


    Ma¡¯at returned her hand to the porcelain cup. Waves of calming heat radiated throughout her fingers and palms. ¡°Uh¡­ no. I thought you were going to hit me.¡±


    ¡°Hit you?¡±


    ¡°Again,¡± she said simply, taking another sip of coffee.


    ¡°Again?¡± Sato paused as if in deep, ponderous thought. It was clearly feigned, almost theatrically so. ¡°When have I ever hit you? You know, a beautiful maiden such as myself can¡¯t go around hitting bystanders. People would think I¡¯m some weird, brutish woman.¡±


    Ma¡¯at stared at her in disbelief. ¡°Then they would have the right idea.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? I know a certain Sirithisian much gruffer than I am. Some may say she doesn¡¯t have a feminine bone in her body.¡±


    Ma¡¯at narrowed her eyes. Hazel light almost seemed to shine from them as she did so. ¡°Yeah? And who are they, these ¡®some¡¯ people?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not at liberty to say. I simply have the courage to speak on their behalf.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything courageous about what you¡¯re saying, actually. If anything, it¡¯s risky.¡±


    ¡°The courage to take risks! Wouldn¡¯t you say stupidity and risk-taking aren¡¯t so far from street-smarts and courage?¡±


    ¡°No. There¡¯s a world of difference between a stupid courageous person and a smart courageous person.¡±


    ¡°Right. I would be the latter, then.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Ma¡¯at mused, smirking. ¡°For example, let¡¯s say an annoying, raincoat-wearing weirdo attempted to save a cool-headed mercenary from an old fart in a cape one day. Sure, she helped her in the end, but she also made an embarrassing blunder from the start. She told everyone her name and who she worked for, people who¡¯d hunt her down if they survived. Does that sound like a smart, courageous person to you?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Sato announced, planting her hands on both sides of her and pushing closer to Ma¡¯at. ¡°Because she was so smart that she knew it wouldn¡¯t matter. See? Checkmate.¡± She cocked her head with a satisfied smile, her eyes glimmering like two polished dinner plates.


    ¡°You can¡¯t just say ¡®checkmate¡¯ like you¡¯ve won the argument, that¡¯s not how that works.¡±


    ¡°Who says? In terms of chess, I¡¯d say I easily took your queen and won the match. Metaphorically, of course.¡±


    ¡°Have you¡­ ever played chess before?¡±


    ¡°No, why?¡±


    Ma¡¯at opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out. Surprising even herself, she erupted in a restrained fit of laughter. Her cup nearly spilled as she giggled, her body seizing.


    Sato joined her, realizing the ridiculousness of the conversation.


    After a minute of laughing, they both finally calmed down and their voices receded back into the silent air. The leafless tree above creaked as another gust blew by.


    Ma¡¯at took another sip, gazing at Sato with a twinge of worry in her heart. She  thought she would¡¯ve sunk into a deep, deep depression since the incident. She had imagined her bedridden for a month, maybe two. Sick with grieving delirium. But, perhaps she didn¡¯t have to worry so much. If the Maiden could laugh so soon after a traumatizing event such as that, then maybe there was indeed nothing to worry about.


    ¡°This is a nice place, isn¡¯t it?¡± Sato looked up at the tree and the sky through the branches, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. ¡°Couldn¡¯t sleep again?¡±


    For an instant, Ma¡¯at stared daggers at the woman and became defensive. But, as soon as the feeling came, it passed. She calmed herself. ¡°No. Wasn¡¯t a nightmare, though. Haven¡¯t had one in quite a while. I just can¡¯t seem to sleep in anymore because of the ones I¡¯ve already had.¡±


    Sato fell silent again for some time, then spoke up as if something on her mind couldn¡¯t be restrained any longer. ¡°Ma¡¯at, what do you think of it all? Of Paracosms and Enigmas. Of the world.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± She took another sip of coffee. With each one, it was getting more and more bitter as she reached the bottom. It was almost gone.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ After everything we¡¯ve been through with Rosaline and Ryosai, I started to wonder if they really are any different.¡±


    ¡°What are?¡±


    ¡°The internal and the external. The internal and the external world. The world we occupy, and the worlds inside our heads. How are they any different? Where¡¯s the barrier between them?¡±


    ¡°The barrier¡­? Well, one is physical and the other¡¯s cognitive, right? Then, the barrier would be reality.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I mean, though.¡± Sato held up her pointer finger, her eyes dimming with the lengthening shade. ¡°What if there is no barrier? We¡¯ve already seen reality crumple and fold in on itself when someone succumbs to a breakdown. Or, in that phantom¡¯s case¡­ just a collection of vivid memories. Where¡¯s the throughline? Say an extreme breakdown happens, one of horrifying proportions, and no one is there to stop it from absorbing everything in its wake. How would we define it then? Wouldn¡¯t it no longer be an Inner World, but a part of the real one? Like a new island appearing on a map.¡±


    ¡°No longer an Inner World¡­¡± Ma¡¯at stared, stunned, then snapped out of it. ¡°You really have thought this through.¡±


    ¡°Not really. I couldn¡¯t come to any solid answer myself. That¡¯s why I was wondering how you saw it. The theory, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Hmph. Maybe you¡¯re right. Maybe reality is no different from the chaos in our minds. If anything, it¡¯s even more of a mess with everyone living in the same space. But, then, wouldn¡¯t the difference between the two be that only one person can exist at the birth of a Paracosm? And that the real world has always had countless people in it by comparison?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t follow¡­¡± Sato eked out, lost in Ma¡¯at¡¯s words.


    ¡°I mean,¡± she continued, ¡°that the world can exist without us. The planet will keep spinning whether or not we¡¯re living on it. But Inner Worlds are different. They can only exist so long as the creator, or, at least the original person linked to them, are alive. Isn¡¯t that the core difference between them? The internal and the external.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Sato said quietly. ¡°Then, what if the world is one and we don¡¯t know it? A Paracosm, I mean. What if the ¡®real¡¯ world is one big Paracosm that got out of hand, like I said?¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ there would have to be someone linked to it. I¡¯d have to doubt there is a single humanoid mind that could handle that. Wouldn¡¯t they turn into an Enigma before it spread that far?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ you¡¯re not wrong.¡±


    ¡°Besides, that¡¯s impossible. This doesn¡¯t feel like a Paracosm, you know? Everything is as it should be. And¡­ it would be pretty scary to be a figment of someone else¡¯s imagination. If they died, then we and everything around us would die too.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Sato paused again, a sad look appearing on her face for a few seconds. Suddenly, she shook her head and smiled at Ma¡¯at. ¡°A-Anyway¡­ thanks for humoring me. I guess I tend to overthink things.¡±


    ¡°It would have been weirder for me to shoot down your theory. I only know bits and pieces, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s such a crazy thought. From what I¡¯ve seen of magic¡­ what it can do¡­¡± Ma¡¯at mumbled, then realized what she was saying and stopped her own sentence short. ¡°Mm. There¡¯s no theory unworthy of acknowledgment, I guess,¡± she summarized.


    ¡°¡®There¡¯s no theory unworthy of acknowledgment¡¯, hm? Did someone say that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ something Camelia used to say. Usually whenever I said something stupid. I suppose I ended up being right sometimes, though.¡± Ma¡¯at let out a short chuckle. ¡°So, why are you here, anyway?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a bit rude. It sounds like you don¡¯t want me here,¡± Sato replied, half-pouting.


    ¡°Eh, I don¡¯t care either way.¡± Taking one last sip from it, Ma¡¯at finally finished her coffee and slipped the empty cup into her bag. ¡°Where¡¯s Tien?¡±


    ¡°Doing the paperwork, as always. I swear, she¡¯s always so busy. As for why I¡¯m here, well, it¡¯s kinda related.¡±


    ¡°Related?¡±


    ¡°I thought we could lessen the load a bit. We had about a dozen random jobs come in the other day, so I accepted them for us. We could get ¡®em all done and then help Tien with the remaining stuff.¡±


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Us? We? Don¡¯t tell me¡­¡±


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m not a huge fan of work, either. But I am a fan of Tien. She¡¯s my best friend! I can¡¯t leave her to combat that mountain of folders and charts all by herself! I have the courage to help my friend.¡±


    ¡°Not this again,¡± Ma¡¯at rolled her eyes and sighed. ¡°Fine, fine. Not like I have much of a choice. It¡¯s my job, after all. A merc¡¯s a merc.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, Ma¡¯aty. A merc¡¯s a merc.¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯aty¡­? Never call me that again.¡±


    Sato deflated, yet her eyes shined. They had escaped the shade and were subject to the clean rays of the sun shining down from the blue heavens. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right. Sorry. I¡¯ve been thinking of nicknames for you since autumn, but your name doesn¡¯t really work with any of them¡­¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t ¡®Ma¡¯at¡¯ short enough? And why are you thinking up nicknames for me in your spare time!?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is. And we¡¯re friends, that¡¯s why! I need something unique to call you. A name no one else uses.¡±


    Ma¡¯at scratched the back of her head. ¡°Y¡¯know, I really don¡¯t understand you at all sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Hehe. Right back at you,¡± Sato said with a wink.


    It was a stupid gesture, something to throw her off. That¡¯s what Ma¡¯at thought.


    ¡°Well¡­ the first job on the agenda is¡­¡±


    Ma¡¯at waited for her to finish, steeped in dread for what horrible chore awaited them at the start of a very long list Sato fished out of her pockets.


    ¡°...saving a cat from a tree!¡± she exclaimed. After a second of utter silence, she read the crumpled paper again. And again. And again. After confirming that she had indeed read what she thought she read, she nodded in solemn acceptance. ¡°Well, that¡¯s that.¡±


    ¡°What exactly are they paying for that?¡±


    ¡°It says,¡± she scanned the paper for the hundredth time, ¡°that the client is prepared to pay a total of¡­ 14 Kin. Apparently that¡¯s their life savings.¡±


    ¡°So our client is an 8 year old?¡± Ma¡¯at replied sternly. She didn¡¯t even try to hide the annoyance in her voice.


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°No, not ¡®perhaps¡¯, they must be a kid!¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t have to be. You¡¯re assuming things. You¡¯re an assumer.¡± Sato pointed at her colleague as if she were fingering a murder suspect. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a very unlucky person. Maybe a homeless person?¡±


    ¡°True, and maybe you¡¯re actually an idiot?¡± Ma¡¯at snapped.


    ¡°I¡¯m just covering all our bases. For your information, yes, it probably is a child. I met with a few of these clients, though I can¡¯t remember which belonged to which. But one of them was definitely a child.¡±


    ¡°You met with them and you¡¯re still doubting that it¡¯s a kid!?¡±


    ¡°Not doubting, Ma¡¯at. I¡¯m simply thinking about things in a myriad of ways. Isn¡¯t that what separates the good detectives from the bad?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not detectives. We just happen to be mercenaries who end up solving murders for those lazy Union jackasses.¡±


    ¡°Tomato, tomato.¡± Sato, sensing the rising anger in Ma¡¯at, decided to get things moving lest she end up a murder victim herself. ¡°Okay, then. Child or not-¡±


    ¡°Child,¡± Ma¡¯at corrected.


    ¡°Okay. The ¡®child¡¯ reported that their cat had gone missing a few days back. Evidently, it was spotted by an old man the other day. He said that it was stuck in a tree at the far end of Halei Street.¡±


    ¡°Halei Street? Then we¡¯re already-¡±


    Just then, Ma¡¯at¡¯s response was cut short by a sudden cry from above. A croaky meow let out from the crooked tree casting shadows across the area. Their eyes widened and they peered upwards in surprise to see an old, dirty orange cat balancing on one of the branches.


    ¡°It was right above us the whole time?¡±


    ¡°That seems to be the case, yes.¡± The Maiden of the Rain raised her umbrella blade aloft and pointed its sharpened end at the cat¡¯s position.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Ma¡¯at asked, fearful of her strange colleague¡¯s intentions.


    ¡°What it looks like. I¡¯m going to knock it off that branch,¡± Sato replied promptly.


    ¡°What if you hurt it?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t. Besides, cats always land on their feet, right? He should be fine if I mess up.¡±


    ¡°Just because they always land on their feet doesn¡¯t mean they can survive a drop from any height.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that,¡± Sato reproached. ¡°But the tree is only a dozen or so feet high. He¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    Ma¡¯at turned back around and examined the great, gangly plant more closely. It was quite tall, taller than one would guess upon first glance. ¡°Why don¡¯t we just climb up there and nab it? It¡¯d be safer than whatever inane plan you have in mind.¡±


    ¡°Because¡­ it¡¯d be a pain.¡±


    ¡°Wow¡­ this person¡¯s annoying,¡± Ma¡¯at said aloud as if she were talking to a bystander, but no one was around.


    ¡°Well, like I said, it¡¯s tall. So, here¡¯s my plan¡­¡± Sato carried on and ignored the snide comment from her colleague. They spoke in whispers for a minute or two, then leaned away from one another again.


    ¡°Alright. But if the cat dies, it¡¯s on you. As soon as that furball splatters on the ground, I¡¯ll be ten miles away from here. Got it?¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t!¡± Sato assured. ¡°But, yes. On the infinitesimally microscopic chance of that happening, you can run as far as you want. I won¡¯t stop you.¡±


    With an agreeing nod from Ma¡¯at, the two women put the plan into action. The Sirithisian threw one of her noctite blades up toward the limb connecting to the branch the cat was sitting on. It flew in circles, the afterimages making it appear like a razor-sharp disc, and sliced directly through the tree branch.


    The cat let out another frightened screech as it fell with the branch and began to plummet down to the earth below. Its vibrant fur was pushed upward as the cushion of air it fell through enveloped it, attempted to slow it, and failed. The cat¡¯s momentum was already too much. The fall had to be stopped by an outside force.


    Luckily, Sato had indeed planned that far ahead. With her umbrella already trained on the cat¡¯s falling form, she took a step forward and planted that foot to the ground. A rush of air and forming water droplets sprung forth from beneath her. Most of them came together in a conflux of sloshing rain across her weapon, readying whatever magic she needed to save the doomed feline. Her eyes glowed, and with them, the coalesced deluge erupted from the umbrella blade and shot straight toward the tree in an unstoppable torrent.


    Right before it hit the trunk, however, the cat fell into the torrent¡¯s way. But the water did not harm it. Instantaneously, it formed an opaline capsule around the creature, much like an oversized bubble. Unlike a normal bubble, most of the capsule contained water. Of course, an air bubble was left around the cat¡¯s head to keep it from drowning. As soon as it was caught, its speed slowed, and it drifted pleasantly to the bottom without injury.


    ¡°Wow. You really did it.¡± Ma¡¯at was truly awed. No trace of sarcasm could be found in her words nor a sardonic grin on her face. ¡°It always amazes me how much you can do with that power.¡±


    ¡°Really? You think I¡¯m amazing?¡± Sato said, her lips turning into a wry smile.


    ¡°Heh. I wouldn¡¯t go that far.¡±


    Pop!


    A loud yet satisfying sound emanated from the cradled pet. As the bubble descended to the floor, it came upon a sharp rock. It popped, releasing both the sealed water and the cat at the same time. Naturally, everything but its head was completely soaked and matted down. It meowed sadly in response to a sudden rush of cold wind.


    ¡°Ah. Whoops.¡± Sato ran to the cat¡¯s aid, taking off her coat and wrapping it like a baby. She even held it in her arms like one. ¡°There ya go. All warm and snuggly, huh?¡±


    The cat hissed at her, though it could do nothing else as it was restrained by the Maiden¡¯s grip and the tight raincoat shackling its legs.


    Ma¡¯at laughed to herself. It was a sorry sight.


    ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s return it to the client.¡±


    Some time passed. Ma¡¯at and Sato eventually tracked down the client¡¯s address. It was on the corner of the central district in plain view of any tourists making their way into Reville through the city¡¯s imposing bronze gates. The cat was owned by a red-headed woman, the same that had looked down from the balcony above and across from the fountain down at Ma¡¯at way back when.


    ¡°I thank you both, dearly. My name is Veronica.¡± She held out a hand to the Vroque women. Her eyes glowed emerald like two jade stones illuminated by a full moon.


    They both took turns giving her a soft handshake.


    Veronica looked at her cat with pursed lips and shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if she gave you any trouble. She was a stray I had taken in a few months back, but it seems she still loves to roam about the city as if she¡¯s feral.¡± She procured a handful of engraved coins and handed them to Sato. ¡°Here¡¯s what I offered and a little more.¡±


    ¡°That is¡­ too much, my lady.¡± A housemaiden spoke up from the corner of the room, a grayed duster in her hand. It seemed as though the red-headed woman was quite affluent, though one could have guessed from the lavish interior of the home.


    ¡°Hush, now. It is exactly as they are owed. I personally believe that if actions are just and kind, they deserve riches equal to their generosity. Wouldn¡¯t you both agree?¡±


    ¡°Mm. Can¡¯t disagree with that,¡± Ma¡¯at replied in earnest.


    Sato nodded. ¡°Thank you. This will help us out more than you can imagine. We¡¯ve already come a long way since last year.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. You are both mercenaries of Vroque, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± they answered simultaneously.


    ¡°Mhm. Well, you have my blessing to rise in the ranks of Reville. Not that it counts for much.¡± Veronica checked her face in a nearby mirror, prodding at her own rosy cheeks. ¡°They use Classes to distinguish worth in this city, do they not?¡±


    ¡°Yes, mistress. Every person, office, and otherwise have designated Classes ranging from A to F. The whole of Vroque Company and Firm are currently ranked as Class C.¡± The maid answered her quickly and without fault in her sentences even as she worked to clean the room.


    ¡°Right, that was it. Noble or not, it doesn¡¯t matter. No one is allowed to make great changes in this city without jurisdiction from someone within the Enlightened Towers.¡±


    ¡°Pardon me, but have you been inside the Enlightened Towers before?¡± Sato asked.


    ¡°I have. But trust me when I say they aren¡¯t nearly as heavenly as they sound. That isn¡¯t to say that they aren¡¯t glamorous, no, not at all. Quite the contrary. But wealthy folks such as myself, and those richer than I, are still in a battlefield of our own. Our own making. It may not be as bloody and cutthroat as what you two are used to, but it is just as unforgiving. One wrong step and we could have the rug pulled out from under us. It isn¡¯t a fair game, but what is in this world? One must have an iron will to survive.¡± She looked the two women in the eyes once more. ¡°But to help me and my dear cat is totally unlike any mercenaries I¡¯ve come to know. Especially Beatrice¡­ that cruel, conniving, strange, selfish piece of-¡±


    ¡°Mistress!¡± the handmaiden chastised.


    Veronica cleared her throat. ¡°Forgive me. Surely you don¡¯t wish to continue listening to my political rants and ravings. Enjoy your earnings! Perhaps I will call on Vroque again if I find myself in need of your services a second time. Good day to you both.¡±


    After leaving the noblewoman¡¯s illustrious abode, they continued on tackling odd jobs across the city. For one, they were asked to help run a fruit stand while the shopkeep was gone. For the next, they were tasked with cleaning a subsection of the Grand Sewers of Cytique. For another, they helped take care of an elderly woman sick in bed. For yet another, they aided a blacksmith in crafting new arms to equip the Union knights and soldiers with. On and on these uncommon jobs came and went until the day was almost out. Dusk had begun to shroud Reville in forlorn, sunset-orange shadows. It was all coming to a close. They walked down the street, their office close at hand.


    It had been dead silent as they returned home when Sato suddenly said, ¡°Thank you, Ma¡¯at.¡±


    Ma¡¯at tugged at her heavy bag loaded with their earnings for the day. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. Work is work, but I feel like we really helped build rapport with the locals. And, well¡­ we made a lot of money.¡± She whispered the last bit just in case there were any second-rate thugs waiting to jump them for all they had. Of course, there weren¡¯t any.


    Sato chuckled, her hands behind her back. She anxiously pulled at her fingers. ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t mean the jobs. Though, I am thankful for that. I¡¯m sure Tien is ecstatic, too! But¡­¡± She paused, then stopped altogether.


    Ma¡¯at stopped as well, meeting the Maiden¡¯s sullen stare.


    ¡°I meant¡­ Thank you for being with me all day today. And for¡­ cheering me up this morning. I didn¡¯t know if I was being a burden or not, so I-¡±


    ¡°Sato.¡± The Sirithisian became very serious. She was as still as a stone statue. ¡°You¡¯re never¡­ You will never be a burden to us. To me or Tien. Got that?¡±


    The dark hues in Sato¡¯s starry eyes lightened into their usual violet constellations. No longer did they seem like two rainswept windows. Now, they appeared as beautiful and ephemeral as the Night of Falling Stars she had viewed before she died. Her red lips curved into a childlike, gleeful smile as if she were reminiscing on a memory of Shino. ¡°Mhm,¡± she said and nodded, faint traces of tears forming in her eyes. Nothing but traces. ¡°I¡¯m glad I met you, Ma¡¯at.¡±


    The Swordstress felt something akin to a flutter in her chest, as if the butterfly tattoo on Sato¡¯s neck had come to life and attached itself to her heart. ¡°I-I¡­ M-Me¡­¡± she stuttered. ¡°R-Right. Whatever the case, it¡¯s nice to see you happy¡­ I suppose.¡± She let out a stunted, awkward cough. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s get back before they get worried.¡±


    ¡°...and that¡¯s why we¡¯ve accepted the contract! We can finally-¡± The Writer stopped himself as Ma¡¯at and Sato entered the room. ¡°There you two are! Wow,¡± he said as he saw the bulging bags and pouches strewn across their bodies. ¡°You¡¯ve both been busy, it seems. You¡¯re bursting at the seams! Haha.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve just been doing some odd jobs around Reville, this and that.¡± Ma¡¯at started to lay down their earnings on the coffee table by the couches.


    ¡°Grand. You¡¯re just in time! I was just telling Tien here some great news.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Sato inquired, hope in her voice.


    ¡°We¡¯ve finally made enough,¡± Tien chimed.


    ¡°Made enough? Enough what?¡± Ma¡¯at asked.


    ¡°Enough for us to start taking contracts across the world!¡± the Writer answered. ¡°And better yet, we¡¯ve already gotten one lined up. Tomorrow, you three will embark on a trip across the continent on one of Reville¡¯s most prized airships!¡±