These Reincarnators Are Sus! Sleuthing in Another World

Dressed in a light green cloak and hood, the teen god gave him an embarrassed smile, as he quietly took a sip of his own. "You seem preoccupied. I didn't sneak up on you last time."

"Yeah… yeah you didn't," Ailn said, mulling it over. He wasn't going to let the kid distract him though. "Seriously, where were you? I've been doing my job. But I'm not entirely sure you've been doing yours."

He paused, and his eyes narrowed. "What the hell do you even do all day?"

"Well… lots of hiding, lately!" the teen god responded. Then he casually moved on. "Listen. You've been doing a great job. Seriously. Really great."

"Hiding? From who?" Ailn asked. "Are you going to elaborate on that?"

"No."

Grunting, Ailn swirled his mug of lager around for a moment, thinking. "I saw a painting of you."

The teen god froze for a moment. Then, with a stiff smile he kept forcing his chipper tone.

"Did you?" the teen god nodded meaninglessly. "That's wonderful. I'm flattered to hear it."

Ailn cast a furtive glance toward the barmaid behind the counter, a few feet away. Then he spoke in a quiet voice. "...Are there other gods besides you?" Ailn asked, meeting the teen god's eyes.

If he were being honest, Ailn wasn't expecting much. It was the kind of direct question the teen god just loved to dance around.

But instead of deflecting, the teen god seemed to consider it for a long moment. His stiff smile flattened out for the most part, like he was tired of holding up the weight of his cheeks. There was a hint of desperation in his eyes.

"...Let me put it this way, Ailn," the teen god replied. "If you could only ask me one question right now, would that be the one you ask?"

Making a face, Ailn took a sip of his lager. The sip turned into him chugging the rest of the mug away, and letting out a harsh, aggrieved sigh. "Is something limiting you?" he asked, not hiding the frustration in his tone.

"Is that the question you're choosing?" the teen god asked, sincerely. "You… may not see me for a while, if I answer."

"Alright, I get it," Ailn said, lightly plunking his mug on the counter. When a barmaid came by to refill him he waved her away. "That's answer enough for me." Holding back his irritation, he decided to focus on the question that had been bugging him. "I don't know if you've been watching—"

"I have. Mostly."

"How did I get Elenira's eyes?" Ailn asked. "I didn't even make eye contact. Or manifest my emerald eyes."

"You did both those things."

"When?!" Ailn snapped. He held the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. When?"

"Remember when you promised to get her the portrait? And her eyes were manifesting?" the teen god asked patiently. "Your eyes were manifesting then. Think of it like a contract."

"...So, I can retrieve people's eyes by cutting deals?" Ailn asked.

"Right. The world soul acts sort of like a divine escrow," the teen god said. "So long as you fulfill your end of the deal, the shards will definitely transfer." He scratched his cheek. "I really am sorry you've been on your own these past few months. It… was out of my control."

The teen god's face was looking quite haggard. As frustrated as Ailn was with his 'employer,' it was clear he had issues of his own.

"But you'll be seeing more of me," the teen god said, and an embarrassed smile emerged on his face. "Whether you like it or not."

He laughed a bit mirthlessly, while rubbing the back of his head.

"I'll take what I can get," Ailn frowned. His eyes fell onto the teen god's mug. "What are you even drinking?"

"Soft cider."

"Figures," Ailn said. He rubbed his eyes to think. "...Is there a reason you came to see me now?"

"I won't mince words," the teen god replied. "I need you to find the ruby shards faster."

"...I know someone's trying to gather them," Ailn said, his brow furrowing. "But if I've got shards of it already, then they can't complete it. What's the issue?"

"Err, it's sort of like… you know how in your world, people take control of a company with a slim majority?" the teen god asked.

"Like a hostile takeover," Ailn mumbled. "So it's a race to 51% of the jewel. What, did you give emerald eyes to someone besides me?"

"Nope. You're the only one," the teen god said. His voice quieted. "If they gather the whole ruby, it'll be bad. Really bad. And that's not even mentioning how they're getting the shards."

"If they can't steal shards like me, then…" Ailn arched an eyebrow.

"... I can tell you this much," the teen god said. "Ruby shard owners are dying."

"They're killing to steal shards?" Ailn mused. "At first I assumed they just went back into the ether, and got pulled into a new reincarnator. Then I met Elenira and found out Noué bequeathed hers after death."

"All those things happen,' the teen god said, with a shrug. "The shards are pushed and pulled by different forces. If nothing else acts on them, the shard summons a new reincarnator from your world. But if the previous owner wills it to a specific person, or if someone with a large enough shard is nearby—they attract it like a magnet. Like attracts like."

"The more shards they get, the easier it becomes, huh? I can see why you're worried," Ailn said. "If the masked woman really—"

The teen god flinched.

"...Got anything to tell me about the masked woman?" Ailn asked.

"Well, you're clever," the teen god said, averting his eyes. "What's there to tell you that you haven't figured out?"

"I found this funny little ring, actually," Ailn said dryly.

"Did you?" the teen god asked. He was starting to sweat.

Sensing that the teen god was only getting cagier, Ailn sighed and backed off.

The teen god waved his hand amicably, as if he needed to sprinkle in a little bit of good news to make Ailn feel better. "But it's great you found a few golden eyes! That means we're uh, ahead of schedule on that one. Yeah, didn't expect you to get Noué's and Elenira's. Good stuff."

Then, heavily considering his next words, he gave Ailn a serious look. "There's a reason I can talk a little more now."

"...I see," Ailn nodded slowly.

Then the more reincarnators with golden eyes that Ailn found…The more answers the teen god could give him. Was that what he was implying? But why? Did it have something to do with the world soul—the part of it sealed in the gold shards?

Was it truth?

Knowing that he had to curate his questions carefully, Ailn wracked his brain, trying to figure out if there was anything he needed to ask right away. Anything of particular importance.

"Why could I understand the naiads?" Ailn asked.

There wasn't any higher priority than assessing his own capabilities. He had to know if it was a fluke, or if there was a deeper reason behind it.

"Ah, that one's actually pretty easy," the teen god shrugged. "Remember what the emerald represents?"

"Unio—ah," Ailn nearly smacked his own forehead. That really was easy.

"Right. You can bridge the gap between humans and any other intelligent species," the teen god said.

"That's not a bad trick," Ailn admitted. He had a few other questions in mind, though he wasn't sure if they were immediately pertinent.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

For the most part, it would be a matter of confirmation. He was almost certain at this point that gold represented truth.

Would that do him any good right now? If Ailn's suspicions were correct, then reincarnators with gold eyes really might end up being essential to his mission.

But as Ailn considered what 'truth-related' powers might be out there, and if there was anything he could ask the teen god that might draw him closer to them, Ailn's ears picked up on Safi—still bawling over her departed friend.

"...I've got one question for you actually," Ailn said. "More philosophical than necessary, if I'm being honest."

"If you really think it's worth it, then shoot away," the teen god said.

"What happens to us after we pass on from here?" Ailn asked. "How'd we end up in this world specifically?"

"Well…" the teen god's eyes flickered softly. "The jewels—the facets of the world soul—chose you reincarnators. Each fragment found someone whose soul resonated with its own."

Then he shrugged. "As for your second question, I don't know."

Ailn looked at him with slight disbelief. "You don't know?"

"The fragments are vessels—they're like cups," the teen god explained. "Bringing you to this world was like catching water in a funnel when your last container burst. It siphoned into the fragment."

"Then…"

"And when you pass on from this world, it's like water falling into the ground. Even I don't know what happens next."

Mulling over the teen god's words, Ailn realized that they were, in a sense, right back where they started. When it came to questioning what comes after—all they could do was hope.

"I wish I could tell you more," the teen god said with a wistful smile. "Is there anything else?"

"...Probably no—" Ailn trailed off.

He paused, recalling Noué's parody of The Last Supper.

"Ah." Ailn tilted his head, shooting the young god a quizzical look. "There's no polite way to ask this, but…"

"...Yes?" the teen god responded with his own head tilt.

"You uh, haven't had a miscarriage have you?" Ailn asked.

"Uh, what?"

"Ah."

Sophie gave a soft sound of displeasure, running into Sigurd again—this time at the Citadel. Behind her walked Theo, with whom she'd been riding to more swiftly traverse the northern wall.

The two had just entered the Citadel's council room in the Citadel, when they spotted Sigurd and Fontaine sitting at a long trestle table.

"Sir Fontaine," Sophie nodded at the old knight, while ignoring her brother.

"Lady Sophie," Fontaine nodded with a soft smile, though his eyes did flicker with a note of weariness at her unsubtle snub.

Both siblings had the same purpose, visiting the Citadel: to report the miasmatic activity of the different watchtowers along the northern wall.

The old knight was not typically to be seen at the northern wall these days. Yet, come late spring every year, when the shadow beasts seemed to surge he still made a point of riding up to the wall himself.

Fontaine gazed curiously at Theo, standing shakily behind Sophie. He wasn't alone.

Sigurd's stare was rather ambivalent. "...Should you not be accompanying Dame Almayis, squire?"

Like many squires, Theo was deathly afraid of Sigurd, and immediately jumped into a stuttering apology.

"L-Lady Sophie h-has been riding pillion with me, Your Hi—Your Grac… Your Highness," Theo stammered, jumping between titles. "As she c-cannot ride a steed hers—"

"Theo, I don't care," Sigurd said flatly.

"It's unbecoming to be so lacking in courage, Theo," Sophie scowled. She sat at the table, bidding Theo stand behind her.

"...Haha…" Theo chuckled nervously, even though there was nothing funny happening.

Grabbing at parchment on the table, Sophie began to write her report.

Sigurd and Fontaine continued as they were, quietly discussing the knights' observations of the wall at large.

"Geltrasse is overdue," Sigurd mumbled.

"It's been reinforced as such. Though as of now, the miasma is quite thin," Fontaine replied.

"I'm certain there will be an encroachment soon," Sigurd said. "I will travel there by the morrow to observe it myself."

There were a number of details Varant kept track of at each watchtower: the proximity of the miasma to the wall, and its color. The number of beasts that had been slain each week, and their types.

For the most part, this was enough to determine how fiercely any part of the wall would be attacked. The miasma, though, often has a life of its own, its density and proximity at any given area sometimes shifting quite violently.

Those gifted with a particularly fine grasp of their holy aura seemed to have an instinctual sense for the miasma as well—as such, they often trusted their instincts over the overt signs the miasma presented.

Both Sigurd and Sophie were quite capable of it—Sigurd's attunement being perhaps a touch finer.

Halfway listening, and writing her own report, Sophie frowned as she realized she'd misspelled a word. Blotting it out with a sigh, her attention wandered toward her brother.

He looked a little thinner than usual. Was that dolt still staying in the cottage?

"You look haggard, Sigurd," Sophie said.

Sigurd eyed her dubiously. "The hunting has not been great, as of late."

"It's foolish that you continue to hunt at all," Sophie squinted.

A vein started to protrude from Sigurd's forehead.

"I believe she means to say," Fontaine tried his best to placate the situation, "that she is worried to see you eating poorly. Especially when we have ample food in the pantry and meat in the larder due to spring."

"If Ailn can catch his food," Sigurd growled, "then I am perfectly capable of doing so myself."

"Are you harebrained, Sigurd?" Sophie asked in disbelief. "Do you truly think it was eating rabbits that made Ailn so fleet footed? Give up and return to the castle."

Sigurd's face twitched at the words 'give up.' He sat at the table with a vexed stare into space, before he suddenly seemed to have a moment of serenity.

"Lady Sophie," Theo whispered behind her. "If you're aiming to convince him, this will surely just push him away—"

"I'm suddenly reminded, Sophie. I wasn't sure if you received the missive." Sigurd's speech was suspiciously genial. "It seems Ailn and Renea will return to Varant by the late morrow."

"Truly?" Sophie perked up.

"And Renea's brought a new friend with her as well. Lady Fleuve… Safi, I believe was her name?" Sigurd continued casually. "It seems our dear youngest sister is growing up."

Sophie froze.

"...Safi? She… has a new friend named 'Safi?'" Sophie asked quietly.

"Yes, an incredibly talented mage, with a command of water like none in Varant have ever seen," Sigurd said. "Oh—I see. 'Safi' almost sounds like 'Sophie,' does it not? Curious. Two prodigies of a generation, with names so alike…"

Though Sophie didn't respond, her frown tugged down a bit.

"She's almost like you but kinder. Isn't she?" Sigurd asked.

Sophie stood up in a clatter. Her face was not quite impassive.

"I… I will finish this report some other time," Sophie said. "I have to… I should return to check on… on the puppy."

Then, without even beckoning Theo to follow, she swiftly paced out of the room.

"Lady Sophie!" Theo looked anxiously at Sigurd for a moment, before trotting after her.

When they'd both gone, Fontaine sighed, his eyes just a hint reproachful. "Was it worth it, sire?"

Averting his eyes yet retaining his glare, Sigurd knocked on the table a few times impatiently. "Oh, what of it? It was a jest."

The next day, Sigurd went to Geltrasse of his own accord.

If the miasma were perfectly predictable, it would not be so dangerous. When it would suddenly encroach, the miasma threatening to engulf the wall, shadow beasts spilling forth—these were the events that led to tragedy.

If he could sense that such an encroachment was imminent, then ample preparation could almost fully mitigate the dangers—especially if the Saintess were on hand to assist.

Tying his horse to a picket line, Sigurd began to ascend to the top of the wall, passing through the inner space.

He nodded expressionlessly to the knights he passed, who gave their due respect with chest salutes and formalities.

Camille and Nicolas were here.

"...It is good to see you, Your Grace," Nicolas said curtly with a chest salute.

"It is an honor that you've arrived, Your Grace," Camille said, giving a courtly bow more reminiscent of a butler than a knight. Her smile was as serene as ever. "As you can see, we've prepared amply for any unexpected movements of the miasma."

Even Sigurd found his two cousins awkward and odd, frankly. Nicolas he simply couldn't read. At times, Camille acted so deferentially toward him he wondered if she might be mocking him.

But it was no matter.

"Disaster strikes the complacent, Dame Camille," Sigurd said. "...Let's hope we've truly prepared enough."

There were a number of knights stationed here, despite it being a fairly small watchtower. That was comforting. Fontaine had done a good job, realizing that Geltrasse would likely need a surplus of knights on hand to defend.

The good news—and the bad news—was that the nearest settlement was a ways off.

They'd have less to worry about. And yet it would be that much harder to ask for significant reinforcement, if necessary.

Followed by both Camille and Nicolas, and climbing through to the ramparts, Sigurd stared out at the miasma. It truly was thin. But he could feel it—the miasma itself was baiting them into complacency.

His eyes sharpening, he peered into the miasma, trying to sense something within its dark mist. That was when he felt it: a wave of malevolence that seemed to be swirling within. A jolt of fear ran through Sigurd, and sweat began to creep down his back.

This was more urgent than he'd ever expected. If only he hadn't antagonized Sophie yesterday, he would've forced her to come along on his examination.

It wasn't a matter of days. The miasma could start to swell and thicken any moment now, and a swarm of shadow beasts would form and assault the wall.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sigurd shouted down the staircase which led to the inner watchtower.

"Send the four fastest riders to the nearest watchtowers! Be swift!" Sigurd did not hide the alarm in his voice. "Wherever Sophie is, bring her here!"

A knight emerged from the watchtower, looking a little confused at Sigurd's sudden clamor. "Certainly, sire. "

"You believe the miasma will encroach this day? We need but a few… hours to…" Camille trailed off, her eyes widening.

Nicolas's sword arm began to shake.

Though their sensitivity of holy aura—and their ability to sense the movements and whims of the miasma—paled next to Sigurd's, theirs was still nothing to scoff at. And both knightly cousins were suddenly aware of what Sigurd had noticed half a minute before.

"...It's encroaching right now," Sigurd muttered.

From where he stood, Sigurd watched as the thin mist seemed to layer in on itself, and swirl. Like a fast-moving storm, the miasma began to move across the plains, hundreds of shadow beasts forming and rushing forth.