A Scribe has appeared. The moment Songha received that message, her head began to throb. Whether the cause was the hard liquor she had been drinking until a moment ago or the news itself being a headache hardly mattered. She grabbed the bottle she had been drinking from.
CRASH! In a fit of temper she threw the bottle. It was her chronic ailment: when her irritation went past a certain point, throwing and breaking something.
It had dulled somewhat with age, but drink brought the habit back to life. All the more when there was no child in sight.
She flung even her own device off the desk. Had a gentle wind not caught it, it would surely have broken.
"Captain."
"I am going. Message them to hold out."
Songha rose from her seat only after she had finally overturned the office desk itself. The sword she never let leave her side for a moment was her only friend.
Her staggering body stepped up onto the window frame.
BANG!
The steel window frame tore away under her kick and became a new entrance just like that. This too was a meaningless venting of anger.
Songha's body leapt out of the building.
CLANG, CLANG!
"Fuck, what son of a bitch at this hour of the nigh—Captain?!"
"...Plague-ridden hell, looks like the captain's been drinking."
"Wow, we're fucked. Neither Yun nor Yul is here right now."
Rather than following Songha, Aran found one of the subordinates poking his head out of a window and held out her device. "Send them a message that the captain is on her way, so hold out." Her wings were not well suited to typing.
CREEEAK
Meanwhile Songha, having wrenched the garage shutter off by force, found her Air Bike and planted her backside on it. This would be drunk driving, but there was no one to hold her back.
Everyone valued their own life.
"Ranal, see to the cleanup. Karna, back us up as soon as you are ready. I will send the location."
"Yes, ma'am."
Instead Aran took the lead in setting the situation in order, then followed after the departing Captain Songha. Aran's wind supported Songha's unsteady driving.
A restless air, as though it might burst at any moment, seethed under the night sky.
VROOOOM!
While Songha's bike tore down the alleys spitting out a tremendous exhaust note, Aran made use of the advantage of flight and moved only in the shortest lines.
The Air Bike was so fast that even doing so it was she who was slower. WHOOSH. The wings cleaving the night were light and fleeting.
"Multiple muzzle flashes observed at two o'clock!"
Aran had no art for fighting a Scribe either. So she observed where Yul, Flag, and Migo were likely to be and relayed it to the captain. It was a position some forty meters from the coordinates Flag had sent.
A number of them must have been engaged; lights, more than five at the least, blinked moment by moment.
VROOM!
And the one who caught that report properly pulled the Air Bike's nose up. The Air Bike, its altitude limit released, surged upward, while Songha's body fell and landed among the muzzle flashes.
"Fucking lowborn bastards."
Bullets poured onto her body from front and back, but Songha ignored all of it and walked forward. Among the presences caught in her Field, she noticed one looking straight at her. The only one giving off any presence at all among assorted nobodies who did not amount to a threat.
"Freedo—"
Songha looked at the Satyri who owned that presence, and that was the end of it.
SLICE!
Songha's body pitched forward as though she had run by folding space, and with a sword drawn at some unseen moment she split the enemy open. It was a vicious sword path, a straight line from the crown of the head to the crotch.
The small fry who had been supporting the Satyri screamed and swung their muzzles toward her. In the process some bastards let their heads slip out past cover, and those bastards toppled forward without exception. BANG! BA-BANG! All of it the work of Flag and Migo, who had not missed their timing.
"Where is the kid."
The most troublesome bastard was dealt with, so the rest could be managed by those two. Even as she made that judgment, Songha searched hard for the one presence missing from this place. That there was an empty space felt uniquely ominous.
"Over that way, he's fighting the Scri—"
"Finish here and follow."
Songha clenched her teeth for an instant. She was dumbfounded at being told they had dumped a Scribe on a twelve-year-old little shit and come away. Had the situation not been so urgent, those two would each have taken a slap from her.
TAP!
But right now even the time to speak was too precious.
Songha sprang off in search of the kid and the Scribe. Soon another being's Field mixed into her own. A Field somewhat soft, but fairly wide in range, and peculiar in presence.
The salt-heavy smell of the sea and the sinister quality of a shadow working in secret beneath it brushed against her sixth sense.
"Yul, are you ali—!"
Could a mere young magician survive against a presence like this?
Turning away from what she already knew, Songha ran toward the center of the Field. Soon she saw the two-story warehouse whose interior had collapsed, and the shadow standing in the middle of it.
Songha's sword swung toward the shadow.
"Captain?"
"—!"
But before the sword landed, Songha realized the presence belonged to someone she knew.
Her sword split the space around him by a hair and came to a stop. What entered her eyes then was the kid, drenched in blood, in the middle of hauling a corpse up.
"You got here fast. I thought it would take longer."
"...You, you."
"Whoa, the booze. Did you come straight from drinking? That smell is really awf—"
Songha dropped to her knees. That Yul was a Field user, or that he had turned the tables and killed an adult Scribe, was not her immediate concern.
"Captain?"
Songha was simply shaken by the fact that she had nearly killed a child by her own hand once again. In the recoil of it, a shitty past flashed back across her vision. The time that had made her what she was, and the moment out of the days she regretted most.
"Don't tell me you're hurt?"
Ordinarily she would have covered such things over with nicotine and alcohol. But right now she had neither. Nor could she resupply on the spot. Her wanting hands trembled.
"Sh-shut your mouth."
Withdrawal was another main factor that fanned the impulse. So Songha, fearing her wretched habit might come out unconsciously, pressed herself down to the floor.
Fortunately, after some fifteen breaths her mind gradually came back. In exchange for the irritation draining away, a severe depression welled up, but at any rate she had gained the confidence to hold out without smashing her surroundings.
"...What are you doing."
"Hm. Venting?"
By then Yul came into view. SQUELCH, SQUELCH. The arms and legs stabbing the huge Bear Folk's corpse with a knife for no reason and stamping it down bit by bit were unusually blood-colored. Droplets of blood rolled down over baby fat that had not yet seen a single pimple.
"It would have been better if he were still alive, but... taking a Scribe captive with no preparation is out of the question. So, as far as it goes—"
That prodded Songha's trauma. She grabbed the boy who was defiling the corpse and shut him inside her arms. Unlike in the past, the warmth of something living and breathing was terribly sad.
"Captain?"
"...Let us go home."
"...Okay."
Yul, held in her arms, squirmed for a moment and then gave up resisting. Feeling the boy's Field shrink, Songha slowly got to her feet.
"Captain!"
"Yul!"
"...We are late."
Just then Migo and Flag came pounding up. They must have had a hard time of it with Sotiropoulou and the remnants; their bodies were covered in small wounds.
"Holy hell, what's with the blood! Are you alive?!"
"Are you badly hurt?"
"It's not my blood."
But their attention went not to their own injuries but to Yul. He had held out against an adult Scribe of all things, so it was not hard to understand.
Songha too, now that her senses were gradually returning, was just beginning to feel how absurd a thing the boy had done.
"Take him, Migo."
"Yes."
"I can walk, though."
Songha sat the boy on Migo's back for the time being. Each time blood dripping off him touched her, Migo's expression soured.
"It seems the blood keeps flowing, though......."
"I said it's not mine."
"Then whose is it."
Instead of answering, Yul pointed a finger to one side. The spot where the giant Bear Folk lay sprawled dead. Migo and Flag turned on a flashlight to see the scene in detail, and their mouths clamped shut.
"...Oh. Um. You must have been... very angry."
"I did not do it."
"Ah."
"...Killing him without splitting the body, that is rare. Did you leave him that way on purpose?"
"I did not kill him either."
"Pardon?"
Songha's temples were throbbing all the same. She had perceived it through her senses, but the scene, confirmed again with her eyes, was savage indeed. Had she not been used to such things, she might have been quite taken aback.
"Yul."
"You called?"
"Nothing to say?"
At Songha's question the boy blinked. His eyes were so narrow that it hardly showed, but thanks to his brows shooting up, his expression could be read.
The boy, awkward-faced, scratched lightly at his cheek.
"My clothes are damp and it's really unpleasant. Can't I wash up back at the lodging and talk then?"
Truly, Yul was a little shit who was an expert at turning adults' insides over.
"Captain, we found the ones who were fleeing and brought them... what are you doing?"
"Vice-Captain Aran!"
Odysseus raised his voice at the sight of Aran descending lightly. His head, with the blood run into it, was heavy.
"Somebody stop the captain!"
"...Why are you in that state?"
"It's unfair! I really didn't do anything wrong!"
Aran, for her part, wore the look of someone at a loss for words at the sight of him. Fairly so. At present Odysseus was dangling upside down, one foot caught in Captain Songha's hand.
"...Captain, I do not know what happened, but might you set him down and talk? He appears to be injured."
"This is not this bastard's blood."
But the wicked captain ignored Vice-Captain Aran's request as well. Odysseus thrashed and flailed once more.
"Look, you can't even praise me for taking down a Scribe, and now you're tormenting me like this?! Tyrant! Thug!"
"Shut up, whelp. My head aches because of you."
"What did I even do? It's not my fault Ironstick's head honcho turned out to be a Scribe! All I did was make the best judgment anyone could in that situation!"
"...This kid, honestly."
"Aaah! If you don't let me go I'll really go over to Pluto! I really will, you hear?!"
He had not wanted to do this, but Captain Songha was far too hard-line. In the end Odysseus pulled out a threat he did not mean. A vein stood out on Captain Songha's neck.
"...If you fell into the sea, nothing but that mouth would float!"
It worked, at least. Captain Songha released him as though throwing him away. For an ordinary child it would have been a somewhat dangerous act, but Odysseus skillfully broke his fall and defended against the impact.
Aran was briefly lost for words. So were the ones she had brought, clustered behind her in a ragtag mob.
"...Why are Migo and Flag like that?"
"Punishment for dumping a Scribe on the youngest, and on top of that, floundering because they could not even handle the crumbs."
It was a good while before Aran parted her lips. Her gaze was on Migo and Flag, kneeling with both hands raised.
"Er, is that not a little too humiliating... never mind."
Aran thought it a bit much, yet she did not keep trying to persuade Captain Songha. Better plain humiliation, she judged, than the drinking habit of breaking people's heads with glass bottles.
"So, what is that behind you."
"...I found them scrambling away in a panic, unable to beat a few stragglers, and brought them along."
"Hmph."
Songha snorted at Aran's words. Odysseus, darting his eyes about so as not to be caught by Songha again, felt much the same inside.
"So you're alive?"
"...Haha."
He had hoped they would be caught by the Satyri and croak, but apparently not. Looking at an unharmed Lucen and Zex, Odysseus folded his knees. Muscles he had overworked throbbed.
"More to the point... where is Ironstick's captain......?"
"Over there."
Kneading those knees, he pointed behind him with one hand. There stood the two-story warehouse he had wrecked, and a single corpse flung on top of it.
"The ware, house."
"I lured the bear swine inside and then set off the magic array I'd laid down in advance. Since he was a Scribe I poured in magic power without sparing any to raise the firepower, and thanks to that the building came down too."
Of course, the blow that killed the bear oaf was not the trap. It was the blade driven down into the temple of the bastard as he was pulling himself out of the collapsed rubble.
"...But we'll have to compensate for this, won't we? I don't have any money."
Well, there was no need to go out of his way to explain that part. Odysseus deliberately pulled a sorry face and made a weak, plaintive noise.
Zex, who had been gaping at the warehouse's remains, snapped to at last.
"I will pay for it."
"Oh, Pluto will? Is that all right?"
"This calamity happened in the first place because our side failed to investigate the information properly."
Yes, he had known it would come out this way. Odysseus looked at the hyena whose eyes lit up hunting for profit the instant he had grasped the situation. A little funny, a little dull.
"Still... Pluto took losses from this too."
"That is true, but we are not shaken by no more than this."
Zex cleared his throat with a couple of coughs, then opened with the word "if."
"If Pluto's compensation is refused, then I will pay it in their place even if I must dig into my own pocket. So do not worry, Magician."
"You would, Zex? Why?"
"It is a life that would have been lost if not for you, Magician. Haha. It is only what I ought to do."
Going this far, though, was unexpected. Who would not covet a magician who had cut down a Scribe at twelve, but still, he was more aggressive than expected.
'Pluto's next branch head might be Zex instead of Lucen.'
Lucen was not incompetent, but judging by the state he fell into when something big blew up, he was not a man of large capacity. Better, then, Zex, who stayed calm in any moment, was quick on the uptake, and knew how to work a connection.
"All right, then. Let's call it even against the price of your life."
Well, that much was not his business to meddle in.
Having smoothly shoved the cleanup onto them, Odysseus straightened his knees.
"Anyway, Captain. When are we heading back to the lodging? I'm really tired."
"...Right. Let us go."
Songha, who had been watching the boy with an ambiguous look, finally set off.
"Migo, Flag. On your feet."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Aran, retrieve the Air Bike and come along."
"Yes."
"And Pluto."
Motioning for Odysseus to go on ahead, she turned to look back at Lucen, Zex, and the rest.
"The matter of the cleanup seems already settled... and anything petty beyond that would be best buried in this night. What do you think?"
"...I also think that would be best."
"Good. After this hour, I would prefer that today's business go unmentioned."
It was Pluto who had botched the intelligence work, but Freedom's position for protesting it was thoroughly awkward. They had had no need to be involved in the first place; they had gotten involved through Odysseus' insistence, and there had been little support beyond that.
On top of that, Songha rushing over when the situation turned was also hard to claim as meaningful. In the end it was not Songha who killed Ironstick's captain, and her reason for coming had lain in saving her own member rather than in supporting Pluto.
Not that Pluto had done well either, obviously. Setting aside the intelligence failure, it was a fact that Pluto's executive had shoved everything onto a member of Freedom, and a fact that he owed his life to Freedom.
So the matter ended at the line of Pluto taking on the whole of the cleanup. Meaning that both the fact that Pluto had nearly had its nose broken by a Scribe and the fact that Freedom had a twelve-year-old magician who had killed one would be buried as secrets and treated as though they had never happened.
Even if both sides knew it could never truly become a secret.
'That's what matters. The moment they accept the proposal to leave it unspoken, they can't attach another word to us over this.'
With the cleanup squared off against the price of a life, Freedom and Pluto owed each other nothing. And owing nothing meant neither could cling to the other on the pretext of a debt.
In other words, the essence of this deal lay in protecting Freedom, more precisely, Odysseus, from Pluto. And Zex, knowing that, had no choice but to accept it for the sake of Pluto's reputation.
"Captain."
"What is it."
Well, Songha had probably not said it purely for Odysseus' sake. She had likely done it because giving Pluto a pretext for continued contact would be trouble if he went over to them entirely.
"Thank you."
Still, there was no denying it had benefited him. So Odysseus offered his thanks with a fair amount of sincerity in them.
Songha's stride stopped for the briefest moment.
"If you know it, then stop rotting my insides."
"Look, I keep telling you this really wasn't my fault. I had no idea that bastard was a Scribe either."
"Do you think I am doing this because I do not know that? His being a Scribe was a variable no one knew, so I have no thought of blaming you for it. What I am scolding you for is that you did not run even after you knew your opponent was a Scribe."
"If I'd run, Bro Flag or Sis Migo would have been hurt."
"And you? Were you not hurt?"
"Does this look hurt to you, Captain? I stepped up because I truly had certainty. Not conceit that I could kill him, but a judgment that at the very least I could hold out until you arrived."
"This damned kid, really—"
"But in the end everyone survived in one piece! This is a profit, so why are you angr—Ah! Don't grab my hair!!"
And in the end he was seized by the hair. His judgment had clearly been right and had produced the best result; why he had to suffer this indignity was a mystery.
That day, Odysseus spent a long while pondering why this human being was such a fucking pain.