NOVEL NEXT Chapter 154 - The Reunion II: Are You...?
Telling an Imperial Guard that she was going to die, regardless of the context, was either quite stupid or courageous. Judging by the way Astoria glared at her, the balance seemed to lean toward the stupid side of the question.
"It's not a threat or anything," Tristessa clarified at once, then lowered her guilty gaze to the front of her greaves, so stained with blood and noxious organic matter that it indicated Astoria had killed a Foe by crushing it with her knee. "I'm just indicating that giving details about my Divinity may…"
"I understand, you don't have to say more." This sudden show of understanding surprised the girl. Even more so because of what she heard next. "The [anomalous effects] of the Divinities of the Gods are a cruel joke that no one laughs at because the entire audience ends up dead, or worse. They are prone to disasters, like the Haunting of Agnisville Town. Or The Invisible Beggar. Or The House Where Time Stood Still. There's always a tragedy waiting to blow up in the faces of the unlucky ones with those kinds of Divinities… In your case, it's fair to say that you're the only survivor of one, right?"
Tristessa nodded, lacking words. She had previously assumed that the existence of the side effects of her [Divinity of Death and Resurrection] might mean that there were other Divinities that had the same application cost. It seemed she hadn't been mistaken, but she couldn't contribute to the conversation. It would be shooting herself in the foot, exposing her ignorance and raising suspicions in the same way that had happened with Tiara in previous loops.
It wasn't yet the time or place to guide Astoria down that path.
Sitting back, next to her, Tristessa continued cleaning the armor. She did her best not to blush and keep her excitement to a minimum, allowing her hands to run freely over the metal parts that reinforced her white trench coat. If she had to be honest with herself, it wasn't too difficult to remain calm, with Astoria's piercing reddish gaze permanently fixed on her.
"Tell me something."
"Yes?"
"Of all the crap that's came out of your mouth since you sat down to clean my armor, is there any truth in it?" Astoria asked, seeking to assert herself with those words laced with cold distrust. "What do you want from me?"
"Wow, I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Astoria," Tristessa thought, and would have giggled if it hadn't meant painful retaliation. Or worse, the possibility of driving that beautiful woman away. "I think I'm running out of options."
Without playing her trump card, it was dangerous to be careless with her words. There was a lot at stake, and not just to avoid raising suspicion among the hidden forces lurking in Entrana who might be listening at that very moment.
Having already finished cleaning that part of the breastplate and without going into places where she could lose her fingers or be arrested, the blonde knightess' armor didn't shine as she remembered, but it certainly looked much better without all that putrid blood on it. Even from Tristessa's point of view, the few stains that remained on her armor served to magnify her figure.
Because they were an undeniable sign that she had fought for those in need. Exactly what Tristessa needed.
"I need your help, Astoria Silverthorn," was the answer she decided to give her, without questioning her previous judgment. Convincing Astoria that the essence of what she said was true was something she wasn't going to achieve immediately; she had learned that the hard way. Trust was built, even in a race against time like the one Tristessa was in. "I can't go into details here. The risk of being overheard is too high."
"Are you trying to conspire with me? You do know I'm an Imperial Knight, right?" Astoria asked in return, this time sounding more threatening than before. Her hand gripped the handle of her greatsword, the first warning sign. "My loyalty lies with Aurelia Eramisaptor and the Empire of the Night's Watch. And there's only one kind of person who's against those two: a follower of the Dark Lady."
A logical assumption. Tristessa wasn't seeing a scenario she hadn't already imagined in her mind palace. She had contingency plans, but it was very difficult to try to control the chaos linked to every small stimulus caused by the choice of a word, the tone in which it was spoken, the context… Multiplying it by dozens of words, it became an inhuman task. Impossible to track, to control. There were traces of the future that were already written, but it was the path chosen that chaos bent and altered to its will.
"You're assuming I'm a person with too preponderant a role. No, I'm not a follower of any Dark Lady. I'm sorry to shatter your illusions," she clarified, letting the piece of cloak fall into the bucket. The filthy waters absorbed more corruption, turning so murky that not even light could penetrate. "I'm just a girl with a lot of problems. Problems that could cost the lives of innocent people."
"And you came specifically to me for help? Why me and not another Imperial Guardian?" As she asked, Astoria pulled a handkerchief from one of the inside pockets of her trench coat, intending to start wiping her face. "Or was it that you heard the rumors about the descendant of [Valthiel Silverthorn] and thought it would be easy to convince someone so lonely, miserable, and…?"
Lost in her rambling interrogation, which was turning violent, Astoria hadn't expected Tristessa's boldness in grabbing her wrist; meeting her determined gaze, a moment of distraction in which she stole the handkerchief.
"Leave it to me," she suggested before provoking the knightess' fury. She used a bit of fresh water from her waterskin to moisten the handkerchief and, with her silent but tense approval, began wiping her face. "Even though I remember nothing of my past, I have the feeling that you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
Tristessa cleaned her neck, the delicate edges of her lower jaw, her pale cheeks, her slightly flushed cheekbones. Her nose, around her eyes, her forehead… Only her lips remained untouched, where perspiration, saliva, and drops of corruption had passed.
A place her own lips had approached, subdued by a fatal temptation. Wanting to close the gap and feel how soft, cold, and smelling of the blood of the Fallen and Death they were.
"Is this how you think you're going to convince me to help you? By taking advantage of me…?" Astoria couldn't continue. She was so angry and gripping the handle of her weapon with such force that it was a miracle Tristessa could get so close to kissing her lips and still be alive at the same time.
"If you help me…" The gray-eyed girl shifted her lips to the right, brushing against her clean cheek, still smelling of Discord from the Evil Dream, contrasting destructively with the Grace of her soul. She reached her ear and whispered: "…I will make your deepest desire come true."
"W-What? My deepest desire? I'm not desperate enough to throw myself into the arms of…!"
But the idea had already been planted by Tristessa. She had taken a step back to watch with a stern look how that seed began to germinate inside Astoria's head. To see her mind interpret her words differently, beyond the superficial or carnal, and to see her red eyes, like the most abysmal and cold depths of hell, widen in utter dismay and surprise.
Neither confirming nor denying it. Tristessa watched as an equally terrifying, yet momentous possibility was embedded in Astoria's consciousness. Around her, the soldiers celebrating victory or lamenting, sunk in despair, no longer existed. Hatred for a cursed legacy, mockery, and public scorn were irrelevant. All that mattered was a single question that could mark a turning point in that her life.
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"Are you…?"
But Tristessa decided to be cruel for the sake of both of them, and before she could finish asking that crucial question, she brought the index finger of her right hand to her lips and asked for silence. A hiss that managed to freeze Astoria instantly, as if it were a powerful elemental thaumaturgy spell.
"Not here. First, there are a couple more people I wish to speak with," Tristessa explained, lowering her finger, a smile spreading across her face at the silver-haired knight's sudden passivity. There was still deep distrust in her gaze, but there was nothing she could do about this once-in-a-lifetime possibility. "One should be arriving, while the other… Wait for me here with Vergil, okay?"
Inside her pocket, the soul-shard she had obtained from Viktor Enma's corpse vibrated more intensely. Tristessa stood up from that long wooden chair, stepped over the sleeping aracross, and her attention shifted to the refugee tents across the street. Walking, she spotted the tent she was looking for, at the entrance of which stood a hooded, poorly dressed man, shouting things she couldn't hear while laughing, holding a bottle of spirits.
As they left, the two crossed the road.
"Have a good evening, miss! Don't be sad for the dead, but happy for the living!" Ivan exclaimed as he passed, more than cheerful, then took a long swig from the bottle. "With a shield, with a shield, with a shield…!"
Tristessa gave him a small smile and a nod. Ivan Lynch seemed to be taking the end of the Evil Dream with joy, possessing the optimism that half the people gathered outside the wall lacked in their hearts. An attitude enviable to several... including Tristessa.
She stopped in front of the tent, closed and made of such thick fabric that it was very difficult to even see inside.
"Auron Casimir!" she exclaimed, leaning slightly and bending her knees, trying to see inside. "Hello?"
"…"
There was no reply.
"I know you're in there."
"…unless it's a generous donation of soul-jewels for my services in protecting my helpless neighbors, I'm not for anyone. Much less for someone who emanates so much Discord that even my soul smells like flowers in here."
That was the long, complicated answer she expected from that man. Just hearing his voice made Tristessa let out a sigh accompanied by a shiver that was far from the fear and horror conveyed by the memory of her last death.
"And aren't you for an eccentric girl who can make your dreams come true?" she asked, doing her best to keep her voice from breaking in the face of her urge to cry of joy.
Those seconds of waiting for an answer were essential for Tristessa to release all the anxiety she'd been building up inside. Thanks to that, she was able to maintain her composure and take two steps back when the entrance to the tent opened in two.
"A very interesting choice of words, lady." First, the head emerged, hat on, his face partially covered by that handkerchief that concealed his nose, mouth and lower jaw. Then he emerged completely, wearing his ever-trusty traveling jacket, dark brown trousers, and heavy black boots. "If I weren't the gunslinger here, and without risking embarrassment, I'd say you hit the mark."
Auron Casimir straightened and stood before this unexpected guest, both hands on his hips. Near where his two revolvers were taking a well-deserved rest inside their holsters, after having surely hunted dozens of Terrdracks.
"T-Tristessa Irandell, Mr. Casimir," she reacted, extending a hand that the gunslinger accepted almost immediately. "Forgive my audacity. Time is not my ally lately."
"Time is always an enemy, lady. Slow in the path of a bullet, fast when you spend your soul-jewels. It will never be on your side." Auron adjusted his hat, removing the shadow from his honey-colored eyes. "So you know of my weakness for eccentric people, huh? As well as that I have a dream or two to fulfill… It seems rumors certainly fly. As I said before, very interesting words. I wonder if you know the true weight they carry."
"Actually, yes, I do. I know a few things about you, Auron, which is why I am willing to help you fulfill your dreams in exchange for you helping me."
"Does that mean you will give me an untold fortune in SJs?" he asked, challenging her with a haughty smile evident behind his handkerchief. "My wish is not easy to fulfill, lady."
"Auron… Is that really your wish, and not something to do with that woman Melinda?" Tristessa thought, imagining her pocket watch, which held a photograph that Auron looked at with deference to despair as he died in another loop. "But I can't risk exposing such sensitive information that I shouldn't know. I must continue with the plan…"
"I don't know what you've heard about me, lady, but I'm broke and deep in debt," he continued. "So unless you are truly someone capable of granting my wish, you're wasting my time. Which is very limited, it's worth clarifying, even if you are someone eccentric to whom I'd be interested in befriending you."
Tristessa looked around, especially among the crowds and the spaces between the tents. She feared seeing a masked person hidden in the spaces where the last rays of sunlight didn't fully reach.
"I don't want to sound repetitive, but…" This time, Tristessa stepped forward and pointed to herself, discreetly so only Auron could see her. "I am someone who can help you fulfill your dreams."
Only when the gunslinger went from looking at her in dismay to wide-eyed did she know he had finally understood the message between the lines. His fingers trembled, making it difficult for him to do such simple action as take off his hat and hold it to his chest, without taking his eyes off her for even a moment.
"L-Lady… are you…?"
"Casimir!" Astoria and Vergil were pushing their way through a crowd divided by surprise at the presence of the aracross and disgust at the fact that it was also that blonde knightess. "You better not say anything unnecessary."
Astoria joined them, crossing her arms with impatience. Understandable, after what Tristessa had hinted at.
"What do you want now, Silverthorn? And what are you doing with an aracross…? Oh, it's yours," Auron commented, seeing Vergil standing next to its owner and affectionately licking the fingers of her right hand. "What you said, lady… I need an explanation."
"And you will have them," she promised. "I only need the presence of one more person…"
A person whose soul-shard was vibrating on its peak of strength, now inside her fist, wrapped in aracross saliva. The cold, blue crystal felt the presence of its twin nearby… So close, that Tristessa soon felt it trying to pull her, heading north. Where, little by little, imperial citizens were beginning to enter the city in lines.
With one exception.
A man who wanted to leave the protection of the city, almost pushing and shoving among the people who wanted to enter. Earning insults and other shoves, the elf with long, crimson hair didn't seem to care at all. He just wanted to continue moving forward, guided by a soul-shard floating above the crystal of his thaumaturgy catalyst staff.
There was desperation in his sapphire-colored gaze and in the way he walked with extreme speed. His black shirt was disheveled, as was his tie, the same color as his hair. He was searching for the mercenary he had hired months ago... only to find himself confronted by the knightess Astoria Silverthorn, the gunslinger Auron Casimir, and an unknown person accompanied by a black-furred aracross.
"Severus!" Tristessa shouted his name with boundless joy while the elf threw a precious stone with a carved rune in it, falling in between him and them. "…?!"
None of the three were fast enough to react before that sudden magical outburst that covered them all in a mist of supernatural nature.
"What in the…? Illusion thaumaturgy?!" Tristessa heard Auron yell. "And with a rune, to top it all off! Too expensive!"
The mist did not harm, but it certainly caused an effect in the local space and vicinity: refugees lamenting, distressed soldiers, happy soldiers… None were staring at them. In fact, their attention was focused elsewhere except for that spot on the Meridion Highway.
It was as if that portion of the land had been erased from existence.
"Someone wants some privacy…" Astoria added, staring coldly at the elf.
"Sev…!" Surrounded by the magical fog, Tristessa felt the shadow of an unknown doom falling over her. Casted by the figure of that elf in front of her.
"Who in the name of Kantrus are you, and why do you have that soul-shard in your possession?" Severus Malak Drakan's despair had turned into fire that flowed beneath his skin, raising the temperature of the surroundings. Threatening to burn that isolated part of space into cinders, with all of them within it. "Where is Viktor?"