These Reincarnators Are Sus! Sleuthing in Another World

It was a few minutes before the bell would ring.

Left alone at the bell tower, Bea knew she had to act fast. He'd left her outside, where all she could do was watch the city below.

She took just one short glance down at the amphitheater, peeking through her hands. She didn't want to see her father suffering, but…

Bea needed to know that he was still fighting. That she could still save him.

"Papa's still alive…" Bea whispered.

Slowly, Bea's eyes went out of focus. She'd seen a future where she could help everyone. And though she hadn't known what exactly was going to happen, or how she'd get here, she'd seen flashes of this bell tower.

She concentrated even harder. Her sapphire eyes began to manifest. She could hear the clanging of the bell—feel the wind on her cheeks…

Her eyes came back into focus. Then, steeling herself, she nodded.

"I have to do it…" Bea said.

Tottering over to the door, she tried to reach on her tiptoes for the wooden latch. She could brush it with her finger, but…

No good. She couldn't apply enough force to it.

Bea ran around the walkway which wrapped around the tower. She knew she reached the bell somehow, so there had to be a way back inside.

Then she found it. A broom. She didn't really know why you would need to sweep outside, but she grabbed it anyway.

"I gotta make sure… not to get splinters…" Bea said to herself softly.

Going back to the door, she jammed the top of the handle against the door's latch over and over until it finally popped open. Then she ran inside.

"Where's the stairs up…?" Bea asked. "Is there a hidden door?"

She thought she'd just missed it when Robin was carrying her up. There were winding stairs down, but nothing that went above. There had to be a way to reach the bell, though.

Not sure what to do, Bea sat and thought. None of her stuffed friends, unfortunately, were bell tower owners.

Examining the ceiling, Bea noticed. There were lines. Not cracks. They were neat and square. It was an opening. A trapdoor.

"But how are people supposed to reach it?" Bea asked herself, puzzled.

With no other lead, Bea went and retrieved the broom she'd left outside. Then, she stood on her tiptoes again—whacking the broom's handle against the trapdoor.

Nothing.

This time she jumped, ramming the broom upward with all the strength her little arms could muster.

Something creaked above her. The trapdoor tilted open with a wheeze, spitting out an old rope ladder like a dusty tongue.

"I found it!" Bea whispered excitedly. She started climbing.

The rope ladder swayed, which frightened her a little bit, but she clung to it with her whole body, moving carefully.

"It's just… a playground…" Bea said softly, trying to convince herself. She reached the top, and climbed onto the small wooden platform, grabbing her hammering heart.

For a four-year-old, a ten foot climb was quite scary. But now she was in the belfry—the bell's house, as she called it—and in the enclosed space, the winds were louder than when she'd be on the walkway just below.

There wasn't any light up there, either. She could just barely see, using the ambient light from the floor below. But right above her, grandly hanging from its yoke was a bell as big as Bea herself.

Its surface was mottled and aged, and it looked as if it hadn't been used for a very long time.

A thick rope hung from a wheel attached to the bell's yoke. Reaching up on her tiptoes, just able to grasp it, Bea tugged.

Nothing happened. She tried again, yanking the rope as hard as she could. The bell didn't even creak. The rope barely moved. She stared up at the bell, frustration bubbling up into tears at the corners of her eyes.

"I did it… I saw it," Bea whispered.

She let go of the rope.

This time, she didn't just pull. Stepping back, she took a deep breath, and ran toward it as fast as her small body could manage. And with a short hop, grabbed the rope, her full weight pulling down.

There was a jolt. The rope went taut, and Bea dropped sharply as the bell groaned above her, clanging to one side. Then as the bell swung back toward its center, the rope yanked her upward—-dropping her again as it clanged the other way.

The bell continued to ring, as Bea was pulled up and down over and over again. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"It's so loud!" Bea whined. But she couldn't even hear herself.

The patrols had thinned for some reason.

Ailn, Camille, and Kylian slipped through to the edge of the Playground, finding an old opera house where they couldn't be overheard.

Both Camille and Kylian manifested their holy aura. And all three of them nearly jumped out of their skins. Standing right between them was an angel statue with a grotesque expression—caught in a laugh it couldn't stop, until it curdled into a scream.

"For God's sake…" Camille breathed out.

Ailn let out a quiet sigh before turning to the matter at hand.

"Bea's here?" Ailn asked incredulously.

"So her mother Ciel alleges," Kylian replied. "I have no reason not to believe her."

The words hit Ailn like ice. How in the world had she even gotten here? Did she come here on purpose?

No, that didn't matter now.

"Saving Bea's the top priority," Ailn muttered.

"She must be within the palace," Camille said steadily. "Our objective remains unchanged."

But Kylian crossed his arms. "Ciel… seemed to believe otherwise," he said. "She was convinced there was something amiss with the forest."

Before they could reach a conclusion about Bea's whereabouts, a chime rang out. Ailn glanced at the others, before pressing the dial on his echo stone.

'...God willing, these words find you still breathing. This is Alera.'

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

She spoke in hushed tones, yet her voice carried through the foyer, amplified unnaturally by the echo stone.

As the message played, Camille's shoulders visibly relaxed. She'd clearly been burdened by the worry that she'd doomed Alera by asking for her help.

'I know where the duke's brother is. He's alive. But time is short. This message is fifteen minutes old, and as I speak the former duke is in the amphitheater fighting for his life for his enemies' amusement.'

'If I'm being perfectly honest, attempting to save him is a fool's errand. The former duke is completely surrounded, and the mercenaries are armed with crossbows.

Ailn's jaw clenched. The only worse news would've been a body.

'...Nor is that the end of it. The duke's daughter was kidnapped. Bea is in Amière. Gerhardt's son Robin brought her to the Playground.'

"So she really is here," Ailn said under his breath.

'That boy—the mercenaries fear him. Deeply. Supposedly the boy is already ten years of age, but… Gerhardt Blanc is only eighteen.'

Kylian's brow arched at the detail.

'They speak of him as if… as if he's the master of the forest. I can only suggest acting with due prudence.'

They heard Alera sigh at the other end of the echo stone.

'This is foolish of me to propose. For all I know, you've both been cleaved in half or bludgeoned to death. But, if the both of you are still alive… I'll need one of you to meet me in the armory—whoever is capable of using a crossbow. I have a plan.'

Ailn and Camille looked at each other with dubious looks. Then they turned to Kylian.

"...It's been some years. But I can," Kylian said. "I'll meet with Alera, then."

"Then, we'll search the Playground for Bea," Ailn said, glancing at Camille.

"We're on the edge of the forest," Kylian said thoughtfully. "And Ciel seemed to have a notion of where to find Bea… It would be best if you met up with her."

Alera's message continued with instructions on where to find the armory. Then she had one last sign-off.

'Let's make it through this night alive.'

Somewhere in the clouds above Amière, meanwhile, a certain sylph was waking up from a long nap.

She'd gone to bed early because she had an eventful day. Tired from spying on humans, accidentally passing through humans, and overall just dealing with humans, she was convinced she'd have a wonderful night's sleep.

Unfortunately for Sorelle, she'd fallen for a classic trap. Having drifted off to sleep three hours before her usual bedtime, three hours later was exactly when she woke up.

So, she tossed and she turned. She tried cloud hopping. A soft one. Then a cool one. And finally one that was very dense and firm.

Still no luck.

Sorelle was, in human parlance, lit up like a candle. But it was so dark out that there surely wouldn't be anything fun to do. That human she'd talked to earlier was probably asleep, too. And if she woke him up, he might change his mind about telling her a secret.

The sylph pouted, prepared for a long and miserable night.

That was when she heard the ringing of a bell.

She knew where it was coming from. But she'd never heard that bell ring. She didn't even know it still could.

Was it the human who'd talked to her, maybe? It could have something to do with the person he was looking for. Or…

He could be trying to reach her.

Her tiny bit of nosiness sufficiently justified, Sorelle gleefully went flying toward the bell. And to her surprise, she didn't find a tall man with a brown coat and hat.

She found a little girl in a blue dress, with strawberry blonde hair, being tugged up and down by a bell swinging from side to side.

'Hello?' Sorelle called out.

The little girl didn't hear her. So, she flew right up to her.

'HELLO!' Sorelle yelled.

The girl's eyes shot open, and she let go of the rope in surprise, falling to her backside with a thump.

The bell continued to ring for a few more seconds, before coming to a dead halt.

"A sylph came…!" the girl whispered in excitement.

'Were you trying to reach me?' Sorelle asked, puzzled. Was this another human who could understand her?

The girl stared at her for a moment, her eyes wide. Then, slowly, she began to shake her head, a sad look settling on her face. "I can't... understand you, Miss Sylph. I'm sorry." Her head lowered. "You just sound like happy whistles..."

Then she looked up again, eyes meeting Sorelle's.

"But my name's Bea! Like a bzz! And if you can understand me... I was hoping you could help me save my papa!"

The bell was an old one—its toll dulled with age, muffled by the trees it passed through.

But Ciel heard it. She blinked. And she took a breath.

Puck's eyes flicked momentarily toward the bell tower, as if exasperated. "That little scamp…" he muttered fondly. Then he laughed. "To Bea or not to Bea… I guess that girl can't help but be anyone but herself."

Then his gaze drifted back to Ciel's, his smile soft yet boyish. His hand rested on her cheek. "You don't have to carry it all alone anymore. We'll raise her together."

She leaned into his caress, closing her eyes to rest. Then she raised her hand to his, weaving their fingers together.

"Robin…" Ciel whispered. "I missed you, Robin."

"I missed you too, Ciel," Puck said. His smile held together, even as his cheeks scrunched in and his lips trembled. He was trying not to cry. "You came back because you remembered me. You fulfilled your promise in the end."

He stepped forward to embrace her. Ciel was still kneeling. Their heights matched. And for a moment, it was like she was a child again. She accepted his embrace, resting her head against his as if in quiet surrender.

Then she summoned her holy aura.

"AGH—!" Puck seized.

Dark smoke billowed off of his body. His form warped, twisting at his core, his limbs unraveling into wisps.

But Ciel heard the forest stirring around them.

She pushed Puck off and ran.

She'd realized it the moment she heard the bell's toll: Bea was at the bell tower. Puck took her there, in one of his twisted displays of affection which he repeated generation after generation.

And Bea was calling for help.

Faster than she'd ever gone, Ciel raced toward the bell tower.

In the amphitheater, meanwhile, the bell had started to toll shortly after he'd slain the lion. Yet it was filled with portent rather than triumph. Every crossbow in the amphitheater was now trained on Sigurd. And to him, it sounded like a funeral chime.

The truth was, he saw no way out. He could perhaps deflect a volley of arrows with his holy aura. Yet even if he reached the stands, he'd likely be hacked to death.

Escape? Less likely still. The only exits were in the stands—and the way he'd come. The moment he turned his back, he'd be shot right through.

He tensed. His breath was calm and deliberate. These could very well be the last moments of his life. He understood that. His mind saw no solution. But his heart had not yet given up the fight.

"The only consolation I have is that this was as empty for you as it was for me," Gerhardt spat bitterly. "I'll at least take that from you."

Without warning, Gerhardt fired. His aim was true. The arrow tore through the air, straight for Sigurd's heart, and the knight commander instinctively flared his aura in front of his body to try and divert the bolt's path.

But the bolt never came close, veering off-course well before it reached him.

Those in the amphitheater had been too focused on Sigurd to notice that something—someone—had drifted in unseen, the contours of her form thin as a wisp.

'OWWWWWW!' Sorelle shouted, as the bolt flew through her.

Mid-whine, she spun sideways—flailing, and leading the bolt off-course, slowing it until clattered to the ground

'YOU GUYS HELP!' Sorelle exclaimed toward the sky.

"What…?" Gerhardt sputtered. "A fae?!" He raised his arms and shouted toward his mercenaries. "All of you fire! Now!"

The mercenaries fumbled with their crossbows, and Sigurd began sprinting toward the stands.

A volley of arrows was loosed, dozens at once. It would have been impossible for him to deflect all of them with his divine blessing. But there were more sylphs already flying through, the volley scattering into them. Each sylph cried out as they slowed the barrage.

'AHHHHH!'

'OUCH!'

'I SHOULD'VE JUST SLEPT!'

Their cries filled the arena.

And to those who couldn't understand sylphs… they sounded like shrieks of judgment, cast on those who dared to harm a man blessed by divinity. Their airy flailing came off as graceful twirls, effortlessly commanding the wind to reduce crude, corporeal tools of man to nothing.

It was as if the heavens themselves were protecting him.

"Draw your swords!" Gerhardt snarled. "Hack him to pieces!"

One of the lighting artifacts suddenly shattered. A bolt had flown into it. Gerhardt cast his gaze toward it in bafflement.

"Is this the sylphs' doing…?!" Gerhardt muttered angrily. "No… Which one of you imbeciles shot that artifact?!"

Another artifact shattered. Bolts struck them one by one, killing the light in the amphitheater as Sigurd dashed toward the wall.

He leapt, just as the final light shattered, plunging all of them into darkness.