Chie eyed her new watchman, Fiori, as he practiced his sword work. He ignored her, making his way back and forth across the room performing practice cuts at imaginary enemies with his newly gotten weapon. The falcata he'd stolen from Taiki was much heavier than the lightweight sabre he was used to, the blade much broader and thicker. The forward bend of it, as opposed to the sabre's more normal backwards curve also threw him off. Despite these attributes the weapon was apparently better enough for him to try and make the switch.
He took a trio of gathering steps, swinging a horizontal middle cut at head height on each step, stopping at the last with the blade held where one might expect it to end if you'd just chopped it sideways into someone's neck.
Fiori grunted in approval to himself and turned to her. "Good loot."
It was the first thing he'd said to her in the thirty minutes he'd been here since he'd taken over for Shinjin. She didn't deign to render any response. It was hard to get much of a read on him, as he'd never removed his iron skull mask in her presence. Instead she passed the time by simply analyzing all the information she could gather and try and think of a way out. That, and roughly rubbing her shoulder blades against the post she was chained to.
They'd removed her armour when they'd brought her in, of course. More irksome was that that they had then gone a step further by taking her better clothes, probably to sell or give to any other women in their group they might fit. Thankfully they'd stopped before removing her unmentionables, though perhaps her snapping one of their wrists had been enough to make them cautious of further attempts at such an endeavor. As she was, she'd been dressed in an uncomfortable shirt made from coarse sackcloth and what could only be described as rough canvas pants. The shirt was far too large, causing it to frequently slip off one shoulder or the other. The pants, on the other hand, were too short and too tight, frequently digging or riding into areas best left undescribed. Since being donned they'd been a constant source of chafing irritation. The game's lowest peasantry was dressed better.
Outside the shed she could hear the sound of mock fighting. There was the distinct metallic rattle and snap-crack of a steel cord whip working in counterpoint to a much more solid sounding weapon. Something she presumed was a hammer or mace, by the heavy clacks it made as it was blocked by what could only be the whip wielder's iron pugilist gauntlets. Suddenly all at once their dueling came to a close as she heard the front door to the main building open and shut. Chie could hear Shinjin's voice calling out to his underlings in words she couldn't make out.
What she could make out was the unmistakable sound of something that was not quite glass nor crystal shattering, followed almost immediately by the pop of displaced air and the sort of dull background hum punctuated by small electrical discharges only heard near active portals. A corridor crystal. If it were possible for her ears to perk up any further they would have. Not paying any attention, Fiori continued his drills, acclimating himself to his new sword. That was fine by her. Chie closed her eyes, listening to what was going on outside.
Shinjin's footfalls were easy enough to recognize. His thin armour was heavier than it looked, giving him a heavy tread, and he took deliberately long, authoritative steps. Trailing behind Shinjin was a unique jingling clatter that had to be Keiko's blade skirt. Chie had to admit it was amazing how the girl could go from sounding like a walking wind chime to as silent as the grave when she cared to.
She was broken out of her auditory surveillance as Fiori's shadow stopped over her. "What are you doing?"
Chie opened her eyes. She hadn't realized she'd furrowed her brow in concentration. "Trying to sleep."
This answer satisfied him well enough. He didn't seem to care enough to press the issue and returned to his drills.
Outside, the portal pulsed as Jorg, Shinjin's softheaded right hand man plodded through. His own footsteps abruptly stopped as he strode through after him, in turn followed by the jangling Keiko. The portal popped as it collapsed. Nobody else seeming to have gone along.
Shinjin, Keiko and Jorg had all left. The leader and his more dangerous heavy hitting higher ups. It was entirely possible that this information was useless, but at present she could do little else other than observe, and hope to glean something that might help her. At the very least, it passed the time.
Not five minutes later she could hear someone approaching the shed, and true enough the door was opened to admit another man. Fiori paused to regard the new entry, Carlyle. He was a younger man, not yet twenty but older than sixteen, with short dark hair and a dark, foreboding brow caused by the perpetual, slight forward tilt of his head casting a shadow over his eyes. The effect was that despite being a little taller than average, it was like he was always looking up at everyone, but in a predatory, unsettling manner. A Kubrick stare, she'd vaguely recalled it being described as, not that she'd had any idea who that was or how he'd gotten such an unfortunate expression named after him.
"I'll take over." He declared, stepping into the shed.
"I have watch." Fiori stated. Not a man of many words.
"Now you don't." Carlyle started towards him. "Why don't you try training Umiko a bit? Girl needs more practice and she ain't leaning much from me. Turns out a wakazashi ain't much good for blocking a mace."
He placed his thumb on said mace, resting in a loop on his thigh, stopping once he was close enough to Fiori for his eyes to finally turn downwards. The expression was no less discomforting. "Wonder how well a falcona fairs."
"It's a falcata," Fiori corrected, leaving his leading foot where it was but retreating with the other. This both placed him in a fighting stance and gave him some much needed personal space. "and I'm sure it fairs fine."
Chie watched the not too subtle power struggle ensuing in Shinjin's absence. As it was, If Carlyle tried to get any closer he'd had to step on the other man's toes.
"Swinging that thing around all day. I bet you're itching for a chance to test it. Why not go outside and spar a bit?" Carlyle puffed his chest and leaned forward, crodwing him. "Unless you think you can find a partner somewhere closer."
Fiori weighed his options for a long moment. Chie could only guess at his expression beneath his mask skull mask. Finally, with an agitated huff he made his escape, roughly pushing his shoulder against Carlyle's as he made his way past.
"Don't go too rough at her." Carlyle laughed to himself. "Oscar threw a bitching fit last I cracked her skull."
The door slammed shut, leaving the two of them alone. Carlyle smirked as he turned his attention to their captive, enjoying the little victory. Chie was no longer listening to the outside, giving the man her full attention. He walked over to her, stopping just over a meter farther than Chie expected her legs could effectively reach.
"Y'know, you're kinda pretty." Carlyle said, after about a minute's worth of uncomfortable staring. "Little old, but kinda pretty."
"That makes one of us." She retorted, pulling her legs in so she could get up quickly if needed. "How's the wrist?"
His smirk twitched downwards. It had been Carlyle's wrist she'd broken when they'd emptied her inventory and taken her finer garments. Chie had been resigned to allow the intrusion, undignified as it was, until Carlyle had taken that as a queue to get inappropriately handsy. He'd stopped when his forearm was snapped far enough that his right hand was folded against the same arm's elbow. They'd kept their distance after that.
"Bet you think you're real tough," He stood a safe distance away, feet shoulder width apart and his thumbs on his hips, "but here you are."
"Big words when you're standing all the way over there." She drew herself up so that she was on her knees, sitting her rump on her heels.
He glared, almost taking a step forwards before stopping himself short.
It was Chie's turn to smirk, goading him further. "Tougher than you, I guess."
He balled his fists but stayed where he was.
"It'd be a shame to have to break up a face like that." He threatened gruffly. "But don't think I won't."
Chie didn't back down. "You won't because you can't."
He took a step closer. She dug her toes in against the floor, getting ready to spring out if he took just another couple more.
"Don't tempt me." Carlyle hissed through clenched teeth. He began to walk around her in an orbit, forcing her to twist and pivot to keep her eyes on him. "You do that enough as is."
"What." She was caught momentarily off guard by the comment but tried to roll with it, speaking when he'd come full circle and was standing in front of her again. "I remind you of your sister, or something?"
There was an audible trio of pops as he clenched his fists hard enough to crack the knuckles. "I was hoping you might make better company than your fat friend."
Carlyle finally moved into range, taking two steps to almost put him in arms reach. He raised a fist across his chest, as if ready to belt her across the face with a backhand. "Maybe you just need breaking in."
She was about to make a biting remark about his preferences in intimate company, but instead bit her tongue. Chie had wanted him to move closer, and with the proper prodding he had done just that. Chained or not, if Carlyle could reach her, she could reach him. Though her fingers had been rendered useless, once she'd dropped him with a sweeping kick, she had little doubt she could grapple him. From there it was a matter of probably killing him and breaking loose. Everything after that would have to be improvised.
What stayed her hand was the comment about Mamoru. She wasn't sure if he was alright. If it was just her alone she would take the opportunity, but if anything went wrong she couldn't put Mamoru at further risk. She didn't just need to break herself out, but him as well. If the attempt failed they might take it out on both of them. While she might be able to get herself out, she was less confident about getting the both of them. Needless to say she had no intention of leaving him behind. Simply put, it wouldn't be right.
Three of them, including Shinjin were away, but she had no idea of the numbers of the rest of his group. She chided herself at having been so overeager. Chie thought this all through while still defiantly looking up at Carlyle, which he took as justification enough to follow through on his threat, snapping his arm out in a backhand that smacked into her temple. He raised his hand again, glaring down at her.
The blow hurt, but in Aincrad the pain was subdued enough that the light strike was more humiliating than anything else. Her plans put off until she could gather more data, she played along. It wouldn't be convincing to give in too easily, so glared up at him until he struck her again, harder. That one hurt significantly more, and she produced an appropriately high pitched, girlish yelp as stars briefly danced at the edges of her vision. As Carlyle raised his hand a third time she meekly turned away and closed her eyes as though cowed and flinching away from any following attacks.
She could hear him chuckle. "That's what I thought."
It was quiet a moment, Chie playing the frightened damsel whose tough bluff had been called out. She was beginning to think she might be overselling it when she sensed him crouching down, followed by the sensation of something touching her hair and warm air on her exposed shoulder.
Chie opened her eyes and turned back to see he'd stooped down beside her, and was holding some of her long brown curls in his open palm up to his nose as he drew in another long breath, smelling her hair.
"You're prettier when you're scared." He started to reach a hand inside the wide neck of her shirt. "Most are."
Chie was not a woman prone to panic, but at that moment she suddenly wanted Carlyle as absolutely far away from her as humanly possible. On instinct she tried jerking away, but was still chained to a post with the majority of her fingers out of their sockets. Her reaction and evident surprise amused him enough to elicit a smug string of laughter from Carlyle.
He stopped laughing when she used the meager distance to snap back the other way, head-butting him full on the nose with a sharp crack. With a pained grunt he reflexively tried to lean away and toppled over. Bracing her back against the pole, she pressed both her feet against him and kicked, pushing him away across the floor in a skidding heap.
Carlyle took to his feet too quickly, staggering a couple steps farther before he steadied himself. He wiped at his face, prodding his nose to check for breaks. "That's okay, it's more fun if you fight."
Chie readied herself. All bets were off. Carlyle didn't know it yet, but the next time he got close to her she was going to kill him. Before that could come to pass, they were interrupted by the shed door bursting open. A man with a slightly thinner but nonetheless sturdy build of average height stormed in. He had a sharp, angular face currently bearing a rather angry expression, and had long, straight black hair that reached down to the bottom of his shoulder blades.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" The new arrival demanded. "You're supposed to be on lookout!"
"Hey, Oscar." Carlyle replied with a forced casualness that was entirely transparent. "Fiori stepped out for a minute so I'm keeping an eye on things."
Oscar looked over the two of them, his frown deepening when he noticed Chie's disheveled hair and reddened cheek where she'd been struck, as well as the Carlyle's nose. Without another word he took long strides to close the distance between him and his comrade.
"Whoa there," Carlyle raised his hands a little, palms out in a placating gesture, "what's the mat-"
His question was interrupted when Oscar punched him straight in the face. Before he could recover a second blow connected. His legs were tripped out from under him, and while he was still on his back Oscar bent down to deliver a few more. Reaching down, he grabbed onto his collar and hefted him back to his feet, shoving him staggering away.
Carlyle steadied himself with an angry growl and spun back around to face Oscar and challenge him. It was bad enough to strike him like that, but in front of their captive was all the more insulting. His hand was still reaching for his mace when the tip of Oscar's short sword pressed into his adam's apple.
Oscar's eyes narrowed into threatening slits. "Consider your next actions very carefully."
Carlyle's hand slowly lowered away from his weapon.
"Good." Oscar withdrew his sword put kept the point forward. "Now get back on lookout."
"What for?" Carlyle spat, gesturing to Chie. "It's not like her friends can find her."
"You're not watching for them, you're watching for Poh's men." Oscar said.
The shorter man's Kubrick stare took a confused turn. "But…Shinjin's meeting Poh."
Oscar slapped him in the face with the flat of his blade, making him blink and flinch.
"And while he's away we're more vulnerable." Oscar pointed his sword to the still open door, speaking more loudly as he continued. "Now get back to your post or I swear I'll string you up by your balls and hang you from it!"
What followed was about ten full seconds of the both of them staring each other down, with Oscar having the advantage of his weapon already out and in a position to deliver a quick cut. Finally, Carlyle growled low in his throat and backed down, giving another sharp look to Chie. As he left, he snorted and spat into the center of her still untouched breakfast. The door slammed loudly as he stepped out.
Alone with yet another new guard, Chie looked him over. He was dressed in brown trousers held up by a wide leather belt covered in round steel studs, and a navy blue vest, unbuttoned and open over a tucked in white shirt made of thin linen with lightly ruffled cuffs.
He gestured to her plate, directing her to give it to him, cautious enough not to get close enough to grab it where it lie. So far that made him the smart one. Chie obliged, using her foot to slide it across the floor towards him. Oscar retrieved it and placed it on the work table, not noticing that the fork was missing. Smarter, but perhaps not very observant.
Hs snapped his fingers. "Toss over the fork."
She frowned. Observant enough.
"Now." Oscar snapped them again and held his palm up in the universal gesture of 'gimme'. "You can't pick those cuffs with a fork and no fingers, and I'm not stupid enough to waltz over so you can try and jam it in my throat. Either hand it over now, or I call in a few friends and they hold you down while Carlyle searches you."
She sensed he was probably bluffing about the last bit, but she had no desire to call him on it. Either way there was no reason to think that he couldn't arrange for someone to safely search her, and the fork was really more useful as a lure than a pick. At best she might have used it to try and cut at the adhesive strips keeping her fingers bet back. With a sigh she plucked it from her uncomfortably tight waistband and tossed it over.
That out of the way, he opened his menu and sent a few quick messages, seeing who else could take this post now that he knew couldn't count on Fiori. He sneered at the unfavourable replies. Summoning a book, he sat down in the wooden chair and flipped it open. Chie couldn't help but notice it was one of hers, her bookmark now keeping Oscar's place in The Idiot.
"So," Chie spoke up, calming down after her encounter with Carlyle had taken an unexpectedly unpleasant turn. It wouldn't hurt to try and get on one of their good sides. "I guess I should thank you."
He didn't look up. "Don't."
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Fort Bjornstead lived up to its name well enough. Though it had all the functions of a town, calling it such wasn't really accurate. It was, as its name implied, a fort. A small fort. It was shaped in a roughshod square less than fifty meters wide with only the barest of essential facilities. Instead of a townhouse or governmental structure there was the command headquarters. Instead of an inn, players could rent a room in the barracks. The storehouse inadequately filled in as a generic all-purpose shop. A cramped mess hall took the place of any taverns or restaurants.
They hadn't been here very long, only about an hour and a half. A quick inspection revealed that, as far as they could tell, they were the only humans there. There were no player owned residences or establishments of any kind. The only occupants were a sparse collection of NPC soldiers. The place was a small, forgettable backwater.
Presently, Taiki and Amber were making another round about the fort while the rest were in the mess hall. Haruki would have come along, but the woman felt she had to keep an eye on Devlin, so with him is where she remained.
The fort wall was a three meter tall palisade made of oak logs with a single tower at each corner and another two at the only gate, placed on the north side. Surrounding the fort on all sides was a thick forest of tall evergreens, with a twenty meter ring of cleared land as a buffer. There were no paved roads or walkways, and all the grass and vegetation had been worn clean by the heavy tread of armoured boots and various beasts of burden. The ground was craggy and uneven dirt, as though it had rained heavily some time ago and the thick mud had dried with everyone's overlapping hoof and footprints preserved.
There was no discernable structure to the internal layout of the fort. By the town guide painted on a placard in front of the command center, there were two streets, Elmsborough Lane and Hardroven Drive, but with the buildings all placed about almost at random they couldn't make heads or tails of where one began and the other ended. The mess hall was the building bearing the address of their upcoming meeting place, and they were the only ones to enter it since they'd arrived.
The weather was nice enough, if one took the time to appreciate it. The temperature here was noticeably cooler than average, and there was a steady breeze that varied sporadically from soft and pleasant to hard enough that Amber had to tie her hair up after it had blown about her face enough times. Taiki found it quite lovely, the weather, that is, but Amber had found it cold enough to warrant a jacket.
The loop around the fort only took a few minutes and neither felt much like conversing. The few inhabitants to be found were stoic soldier NPCs that wandered from one busywork task to another. Judging by the hints they dropped as Taiki and Amber passed by, the main questline for the area related to a hunt for a giant bear hiding somewhere out in the surrounding wilderness.
Finished with their patrol, they returned to the mess hall to regroup with the others. The crude wooden door creaked loudly as Taiki opened it, drawing the attention of everyone inside. A long A-frame table ran down the center of the room. Cedric sat on the left, the Chronicler's book resting on the tabletop. Sitting opposite him was Haruki, who was herself placed to Devlin's right. Most notable was the set of manacles around Devlin's wrist, and the chain that connected them to Haruki's belt. It had taken some convincing for Devlin to allow it, but he could tell there wasn't much choice. They were, after all, preparing to negotiate his trade with people that were trying to kill him. Taiki's assurance that it was just for show and a sign of capitulation kept things from steering towards a more forceful outcome. His mask was pulled down, hanging around his throat like a cravat.
"Didn't see anyone out there." Taiki closed the door once Amber was inside. "Woods are thick enough they wouldn't have to hide too far out, though."
He stood behind the spot to Devlin's right. "Anything useful?"
Cedric turned a page, skimmed through it and turned another. "A few tidbits. Book's laid out a little weird. First half is an impartial, linear history listing important events he was a part of put together from various sources. The other half is more personal like a biography and looks to have been written sometime later, maybe after he turned. His time with the clearing groups has a bunch of conflicting accounts, mostly due to different people liking or hating him in differing degrees. At one point he rescues a squad of ALF members that were cornered in a labyrinth, and at another point he's ostracized by their entire guild after he challenged Kibou to a duel and left him broken in the street."
He turned another page. "There's a lot more during his time as a mercenary, mostly about him valiantly defending his clients against harm and all that, but out of nowhere everything starts to get a lot more sparse and he gets a lot more bitter. Guessing that's when started to grow more distant."
"Anything that helps us?" Taiki clarified. He was sure the history of his life and downfall might be fascinating, however incomplete, but that's not what he was after.
Cedric nodded. "Says that before the game even started he was an amateur practitioner of German longsword. Odd niche of a hobby but certainly useful now. Thing is, apart from a couple specific instances, it's the only weapon type he ever uses. And that he was a smalltime boxer until some injury kept him from going for the big leagues."
"Anything else?" Taiki asked again.
"Um…" Cedric flipped back to check a previous page, "he likes to cook? Look, when I find something else, I'll let you know, but this thing doesn't exactly have a chapter called 'skills and weaknesses'."
That suited Taiki just fine. There was something he needed to deal with anyways.
He tapped Haruki's shoulder and gestured to his friend. "Devlin and I need to talk. Alone. Mind passing me the leash."
Devlin arched an eyebrow but started to stand, stopped when Haruki placed a stern hand on his shoulder.
"He doesn't leave my sight." She stated. "You need to talk with him you can do it here."
Taiki squared his feet. "We're not going far, just stepping outside."
He turned to his friend. "Don't worry, if he tries to run I'll break his legs."
Taiki was a horrible, utterly unconvincing liar, which was why he wasn't lying. She was still deciding when Cedric did it for her.
"Be back in five." He turned another page. "Don't wander."
Reluctantly, Haruki unclipped the chain from her belt and handed the leash over to Taiki. With a nod towards the door he led his friend several paces outside. They were silent until the door swung shut. The two of them stood abreast each other at a forty degree angle, facing away from the mess hall.
Taiki handed the leash over to Devlin, trusting him enough not to need it. The gesture left Devlin surprised for a full few seconds. "Chains aren't too tight?"
"Too loose. Not enough to slip but enough to knock around." He shook his hands and the cuffs rattled about. "Anyways, what's bugging you?"
Taiki weighed his words and how he might react to them. He wasn't sure how much his answer might colour his view of him.
Devlin took note of the pause. "C'mon, spit it out."
He decided to keep the question simple. "Would you have killed Otto if he hadn't escaped?"
Devlin blinked a couple times, clearly expecting something he thought was more of an issue. "Of course not."
"So, the whole thing about getting ready to run him through…" He trailed off, waiting for him to explain.
"Oh, I was going to stab him." Devlin conceded. "Leave it in a bit and watch him squirm, but like I said, that's all scare tactics. I thought we were on the same page 'til you grabbed my sword and let go of him."
"You sold the 'scare tactic' pretty well." Taiki stressed, getting a little frustrated at taking the blame for his escape, even though he had to admit he was at least partly at fault. Mostly at fault. More than not. "How was I supposed to know?"
"I winked!" Devlin likewise raised his voice a little. "How could you not see that? I was right in front of your face. You were looking me straight in the eye. How-how did you not catch that? That's like, uh-a clear communication."
"I didn't know it meant that!" Taiki said defensively. "You're about to stab some guy and you think winking at me tells me what your plan is?"
"Yes!" Devlin exclaimed. "It's a conspiratorial wink! How could you not know what a conspiratorial wink is!?"
"I don't know!" Taiki shouted back. "Maybe nobody's ever winked at me before!"
Devlin held his palms up and out as he began to gesticulate. "Well what the hell did you think it could mean?!"
"I thought winks were like a flirting thing!" Taiki was becoming aware of the almost comical amount of times their conversation had them shouting the word 'wink'. "Y'know, like a flirty wink!"
Devlin threw his hands up in exasperation, jangling his chains. "Why the shit would I be flirting with you when I'm about to stab a guy!? That doesn't make a god damn lick of sense!"
"I know!" He shouted even louder. "That's why I didn't get it!"
Devlin took on a more sarcastic tone without lowering his volume. "Well, pay close attention, because apparently you need to learn this. This is a conspiratorial wink!"
He subtly twitched his eye shut, closing the upper lid and keeping the rest of his face perfectly still. It was as simple and quick as blinking.
"And this is a flirtational wink!" Devlin forced a painfully fake, wide one-sided smile and shifted his feet so that he was standing in a more relaxed posture. He lightly scrunched the side of his face on the same side of the smile, using the upper and lower eyelid, while angling his head to coincide with the wink. "Do you see the difference? Notice the lack of subtlety?"
"I got it, okay!" Taiki bellowed at the insult, taking a step closer to and bearing down on him without thinking.
"Good," Devlin was forced to tilt his head up to his taller comrade but held his ground, "because if I was going to flirt with you there wouldn't be any confusion, you'll damn well know!"
A small voice cleared its throat.
The two of them turned at once to Amber, who had opened the door at the most inopportune moment at the end of their argument. Her face had noticeably reddened as she stammered. "I-I'm just going to go back inside. You two take…take your time."
Without waiting for a reply she shut the door. The two of them processed her reaction for a moment before Devin exploded again. "Oh, come on!"
The two of them breathed heavily coming back down from the argument. It was a stressful time, and venting their frustrations any further at each other might have undesirable results. Taiki took a couple of steps back to give themselves some space, and Devlin wiped both of his hands up over his face and back over his hair, calming himself.
"Listen," he began, returning to a normal volume, "do y'see how I figured we were on the same page?"
"Yeah." Taiki growled. He took a deep breath as he thought over everything, and spoke the next statement like a slow paced confession. "There's a possibility that I am not a smart man."
Devlin sardonically reached up a hand and clasped his shoulder. "Well, admitting you have a problem is the first step on the road to recovery."
He held it there a moment, then awkwardly patted it before lowering his hand back to his side and taking a more sincere expression. "Look, I wasn't going to kill Otto. He still had info we needed, but more importantly I know how you feel about killing. We're friends, right? And I wouldn't force you to participate in something like that against your will."
Taiki let out a long sigh of relief. "That's good to hear."
A small trace a smile appeared on his red haired friend's face. "Good. Now, let's head inside before Amber starts spinning this little spat in a direction I'd rather not see it go."
The larger man nodded, and Devlin moved back to the mess hall. He was just opening the door when a thought occurred.
"Wait." Taiki suddenly said, drawing Devlin to look back over his shoulder, his hand on the knob and the door just ajar. "If it wasn't for me…if I hadn't been there, if it was just you and him, and you'd gotten him to talk…what would have done with him then?"
The muscles of Devlin's jaw clenched and unclenched as he tried to think of an answer that was neither a lie nor unpleasant. Finding neither, he turned away and went inside.
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Shinjin stood before a set of thick, burnished steel doors, Keiko and Jorg flanking him to either side. The entrance to the Laughing Coffin base he'd been invited to for a meeting with the man who believed himself his boss. Their current headquarters and fortress, the Sepulcher. The size of the structure was impossible to gauge from the outside, the only part aboveground was the entrance, fashioned into what looked like a mausoleum the size of a small house, fashioned from granite. The rest was all belowground. The only other parts of the base that were visible were a few disguised air vents. If there was another way in or out Shinjin didn't know of it. It wasn't often he was invited inside, and never unaccompanied.
Slowly, ponderously, the doors swung shut with a loud, dull clang, sealing them out. That was just fine by him, their business was concluded, and sooner or later he would own this place anyways. He hadn't decided if he would move his operations here or destroy it.
Shinjin clucked his tongue and started to walk away at a relaxed pace, opening his menu. "Well, that went well."
The best way to describe the land around the Sepulcher could be summarized in a single word: dead. There were trees, a dense forest, but a dead forest. Their thin, brittle, barkless trunks were twisted and gnarled, composed of bleach white wood with small patches of oxide red. They were bereft of any leaves, and their branches curled like ribs. It was like walking through a forest of misshapen bones. The area was shrouded in a thick fog, but the air was dry and the ground cracked, desiccated earth.
Keiko and Jorg walked beside him, the only sound their collective footsteps and a heavy, rhythmic breathing coming from nowhere and everywhere. There were no signs of any wild life, not even insects. Even the air was dead, stagnant and unmoving. Nothing lived here, save for Laughing Coffin. That, and the mistwalkers.
They were the only mobs to inhabit the Forest of the Damned. Wraith-life entities, almost transparent and the same colour as the fog. They wafted about at the edges of their vision, only the pinpricks of their three gleaming blue eyes plainly visible, blinking in and out of view. Despite being on the thirteenth floor, they were still deadly. Wraiths were among the few types of enemies in Aincrad whose attacks were calculated on the percentage of a players maximum life, not a flat number to be deducted.
Keiko waited until they were well out of earshot from the Sepulcher to correct him. "That went poorly."
A corridor crystal appeared from Shinjin's inventory and dropped into his waiting hand. "It went well enough. We still have time to wrap things up with Devlin and his friends, and time enough to ready ourselves for Poh."
"We'd have more than enough time to prepare if we were just doing the trade today." Keiko pointed out. "Why not trade for Devlin today and be done with it?"
Shinjin idly tossed the crystal brick up and down. He couldn't use it here, not yet, anyways. The fog interfered with crystals, acting as an incredibly rare, amorphous anti-crystal zone. Overlapping with that was another kilometer wide spherical field that originated from the center of the Sepulcher. An artificially generated anti-crystal zone. Shinjin had no idea how they'd crafted something capable of such a feat, but it was doubtless a marvel of ingame engineering.
As they walked through the fog, it clung to them in lingering wisps, feeling like tugging fingers, prying at their armour and tugging on their skin. It was as though the fog was reluctant to let them pass.
"Because things have changed." Shinjin explained, unbothered. "I don't just want Devlin. I want all of them."
"Then we should put things on hold with them until we've taken care of Poh." Keiko persisted. She itched at her scalp as the fog brushed along the stubble of her left temple and pulled on her hair. "He has to know we're up to something."
Shinjin chuckled. "Without a doubt, but nobody will respect or fear us, they won't follow us if we run from a fight from one traitor and some nobody second wave players, even once I've beaten Poh. The Wayward Pact has made us look like weak fools, so we have to deal with them first. Poh will simply have to wait."
She huffed, knowing it was pointless to argue the point. "You know he'll just show up at the worst possible moment, right?"
"Then we'll have to be prepared." He waved a hand dismissively. "What are our numbers?"
She tabulated for a second. "Not counting you we only have eight people left."
If he was bothered by this figure he didn't show it. "Recall our listeners to the Casket."
With the death of Sadler, that left five people he had in the field. Not a lot, but enough to bolster their defenses.
"Fine," she made a mental note to send out a group message, "but can we at least try and kill the Wayward Pact today? Why put it off?"
As they walked, the glowing eyes of the mistwalkers became more numerous, no longer hiding at the edges of their vision but flowing past in plain view. Their grossly overleveled stats for this floor kept them at bay for the time being, but that would not last forever. A few minutes more and they'd be swarmed and overwhelmed by them.
Incapable of verbally contributing to the conversation, Jorg twitched and shuddered as each ethereal form faded in and out of existence, jittering like an oversized child lost in a carnival's haunted house. Shinjin occasionally wondered whether or not the simpleminded man truly grasped the unreality of their world.
They passed by a tree with a red stripe painted around its trunk. A few other trees on either side bore the same mark. The perimeter of the Sepulcher's anti-crystal zone.
"Jorg." Shinjin patted him on the shoulder while he was watching a wraith drift away into nothing, and the man lurched in surprise. If he'd had a voice he would have cried out, but all that came was an explosive exhalation. "How about we clear the air."
Jorg gave an appreciative and enthusiastic nod and pulled a peculiar item from one of his pouches. It was a chunk of bone white wood from one of the local trees, carved into a rough, lumpy fist sized sphere. Several irregular holes the width of a straw were drilled through it in curving tunnels. Attached to it was a meter and a half length of twine ending in a looped portion forming a handle.
Grasping the handle, Jorg proceeded to swing the ball in wide circles over his head. The bonewood ball produced a keening whistling tone that sounded like a quiet female voice singing out and holding an eerie high note. Suddenly, the fog flowed away from them, as if retreating, give them a five meter wide clearing and coalescing into a surrounding wall of translucent boney hands, reaching inwards with inhumanly long fingers. The ever present heavy breathing in the background became more haggard and rapid. The mistwalkers shrieked and howled, circling them outside its border.
"You would have me make a liar of myself?" He asked, returning his attention to Keiko and ignoring the ghostly display. "I invited them to a meeting under the condition I would not attack them, and I am a man of my word. To the letter."
With the mist no longer blocking them, Shinjin spoke the word to activate the corridor crystal and opened the swirling gateway. Jorg swung the wraithwhistle with increased fervor as the apparitions shrieked and bayed, their glasslike talons shimmering.
"Besides, I need to show them I'm not to be taken lightly. Something they won't forget." Shinjin smiled as he began to pass through the portal. "You know how I love the dramatic."
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"So," Chie began, pausing when Oscar made no motion to acknowledge her save for licking his thumb and turning another page. He'd been quiet since taking her utensil away. "you mind if I ask a questi-"
"Yes." Oscar cut her off, still not looking up.
She raised an eyebrow. "But you don't even know w-"
"Doesn't matter." He cut her off again. She was just opening her mouth to protest when he finally shot her a pointed glance. "Quiet."
Her chains jangled as she raised her hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. Geez."
Her watchman returned to his reading. She squirmed a little, repositioning herself, trying to get comfortable in her roughshod clothes and failing. With nothing better to do she gave her bindings another inspection, looking for potential weak points. There were none. The manacles were loose enough not to cut off her circulation, but tight enough that she had a better chance of gnawing her hands off than slipping them through. The chain was neither thick nor heavy, but was strong enough she had no hope of breaking it apart without some form of cutting tool or heavy blunt object. It was made from simple, oval iron links about four centimeters long and two wide.
Like the rest of what she wore, it was rough, though in the case of her chains it was from a light rusting covering most of the metal's surface. It was abrasive enough that the insides of the manacles bit into her wrists from time to time. An idea started to form. Chie pressed her thumb into one of the links and rubbed it hard. By how it felt, had this been the real world she would have left a good layer of skin behind.
She eyed Oscar, still ignoring her. She had to test her growing theory. Chie produced a long, wide mouthed yawn, stretching one arm as far forward as she could reach it, placing the other at her side. Arching her back, she extended other arm, drawing the chain taught along the post and pulling her already outreached arm back to her side. She could hear the rough chain slide along the post behind her.
Oscar covered his mouth as he found the gesture contagious. Giving a quick glance at the floor behind her, Chie could see a single splinter of wood on the floor. She had to fight to contain her grin. It would take time, and she'd need to be alone, but she had all the tools she needed to break loose. All that was missing was opportunity.
With nothing else to do, she tried to find another way to pass the time. There were not many things one could do while chained to a post with almost no functioning fingers, especially when the only other person present was proving unwilling to converse. Might as well start by working on that.
Chie curled her lips inward and inflated her cheeks until she produced a loud pop that reverberated in the empty shed. It wasn't until the fourth irritating report that Oscar finally looked up from the book again.
"Stop that."
She shrugged. "I'm bored."
"Then be quiet and bored."
She itched one of her shoulder blades against the post. "Tried that, got old."
Oscar frowned, summoned his menu and sent out a few messages, trying to see if someone else could take his place. Just as before, everyone else was either busy or unwilling.
Chie waited until he waved away his menu in frustration. "Look, I have absolutely nothing to do, and I'm guessing neither of us are going anywhere any time soon. What's the harm in chatting a little, maybe just answer a few questions? I'm still in the dark on a few things."
He considered this a moment. "Like what?"
She nodded towards The Idiot. "That book any good?"
Oscar looked down at it, gave a huff of a sigh and tossed it onto the table. "No. Not my flavor, anyways."
Her foot was in the metaphorical door. Her next question was more conversational in tone. "Shinjin mentioned you guys don't normally hold prisoners for very long. Care to elaborate for my peace of mind?"
His fingers drummed on his knee as he pondered how much he should tell her about anything. "You're worth more alive than dead. Most prisoners are. Reason we don't keep people for long is they're usually up for ransom. Only reason I can think we'd kill you here is if the trade for Devlin went sour and you lost your value."
Time for a more important line of questioning. "So, what happened between you guys and Devlin? I got the short version from Shinjin, but I was hoping I could get the full story. You mind filling me in?"
"He's a traitor." Oscar declared gruffly. "We want him back, simple as that. No point in going over everything else."
"Why's that?"
"We're meeting with your party in a couple hours. Negotiating a trade." Oscar answered. "All goes well we might even trade you today."
"Really?" She allowed herself to experience a measure of hope.
He nodded. "Yeah. Even bringing your friend along."
She was happy she didn't try killing Carlyle earlier before knowing this. "Ok, great. Thanks for telling me."
A few ideas drifted across her mind. "Still, I'd like to know. Depending on how Devlin's explained himself to my guild, they might not want to give him up so easily. I mean, just knowing he's a defector from Laughing Coffin that killed a few of you before he was even really a member, that actually sounds a little like an endorsement."
She continued, overselling him. "He's a charming, charismatic guy. Made friends with everyone real quick. Taiki, the big guy and him are practically inseparable, and I think there might even be something between him and the other girl in my party."
She hunched forward, as though speaking to him over a table and trying to make this between the two of them. "But they'll listen to me. You give me the whole story and I can convince them to follow along."
It was still a while until the meeting, and as she said, it wasn't like they had anything better to do. There was no harm in letting her know, and if she could help sway her team, all the better. "Fine."
Oscar dragged the chair a little closer, so as to speak at a distance more conducive to conversation. "He and his group were a bunch of lowlife bandits. Then, somehow, they ended up crossing paths with the right hand man of none other than Hircine."
Chie listened intently as he went over everything, from start to finish. She had newfound hope in knowing she might be leaving soon, and wanted to learn as much as she could before then. What helped more was another assurance that Mamoru was okay, and even coming along for the negotiation, too. No doubt they intended to threaten them a bit to cajole her friends into handing over Devlin.
Curious, even though they'd traveled with him for about a month's time, she expected Taiki would probably be the only one hesitant to immediately send him to his death, and even then he was practical enough to acknowledge their limited options. It almost seemed unnecessary to use them for such a show unless they truly hoped to trade today. With her ruined hands and chains, and how Carlyle had behaved, she hoped they'd at least been treating Mamoru alright.
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Mamoru considered the resources he had available, then looked up and between the two guards that were present. Across from him was a man in his late twenties with premature balding already giving him a pronounced facsimile of a widow's peak named Higuchi. He was dressed in faded skinny jeans with the knees rubbed threadbare, and a loose-fitting t-shirt, as though he were clinging to the last vestiges of his youth. On his right hip was a long dagger, and on the other was a chromed chain that ran into his pocket that connected his wallet to his belt. A pointless item, since most ingame money was in coins, but probably something that reminded him of his home in the real. Mamoru almost felt sympathetic for him. When his hair had started to go it had been hard to cut his losses and shave himself bald.
To his left and Mamoru's right was Yarl, who was dressed in the same furs and pelts he always was. The young man was disinterested and downcast, not paying much attention to either of them.
Mamoru brought his attention back round to Higuchi, staring at him in challenge. "Hit me."
The guard raised an eyebrow. "Dude, you sure?"
Mamoru's eyes were locked on his. He gave a shallow nod. "Absolutely. C'mon. Hit me."
Higuchi gave a bemused smirk. "Okay, dude."
He then drew a card from the top of the deck and reached across the table they were all sitting at to add the five of hearts to Mamoru's hand, raising it from sixteen to twenty one.
A grin plastered itself over Mamoru's face as he declared for the fourth time in a row, "Blackjack."
Higuchi's wallet chain jingled as he stomped his foot on the floor and laughed. "Dude, seriously? How the hell are you so lucky?"
The irony of that question didn't seem to register with him.
Mamoru wore a set of cuffs, but was not chained to anything and was allowed full use of his hands. He knew better than to try anything and his guards could tell, which afforded him a certain measure of comfort that someone more dangerous might not get. If he'd thought about it much he might have been insulted by how little they expected of him, even if they were right in doing so.
They'd even let him keep his better casual clothes, though they had still taken his armour and emptied his personal inventory, as well as the slots he shared with his wife. The most intrusive thing they'd done was check once in a while to make sure Haruki wasn't trying to send him anything. She'd stopped once he'd sent a message about how bad an idea that was, and that they just kept taking whatever came through anyways.
Higuchi jovially slapped Yarl's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Dude, can you believe this guy? Some kind of card shark."
He seemed to call everyone 'dude', and was easily amused. Yarl, however, shrugged off his guildmate. With a depressed sigh, he slid his chair away from the table and stood.
"I'm taking a walk." Yarl said quietly, and left.
Higuchi watched him leave, but said nothing to stop him, not speaking again until the door closed. "Don't mind him. He's just been down since that big dude in your party killed his cat."
Another hand was dealt as they continued playing. If things were different, it would be unwise to leave him so unrestrained with only one lightly armed guard. Instead, Mamoru was content to wait for the hostage negotiations. He'd had a promising conversation with Shinjin earlier in the day, who'd explained a few things about the upcoming meeting. Now, he was looking forward to the event.
Mamoru felt a little guilty knowing he'd be leaving Chie behind, but it was her own fault he was here to begin with. Once they set him free, he and Haruki would leave the Wayward Pact behind and let them deal with the rest of this mess. His lips twitched downwards a moment in a brief frown. He knew Chie would never leave him behind if she could help it.
He pushed the thought from his mind. Best to get out while he still could.
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Chie listened to Oscar run through the entirety of his party's history with Devlin. It wasn't a very long story, and was largely the same as what can be read elsewhere, albeit presented with a different perspective and bias. It didn't paint him in a very positive light, but while Chie certainly felt betrayed, she wasn't as upset as she'd expected to be. This was not to say that she wasn't upset. Whether or not Devlin had intended to cause them any harm didn't change the fact that he had. Thankfully, so far the only one of them that died was an NPC, and while Amber would take umbrage at her attitude regarding the drone, that was a negligible loss.
"Thanks, good to be up to date." She tried to ignore the thread on the inside of the shirt's sleeve that kept prodding her shoulder. "So, what's your story?"
Oscar's eyes narrowed. "None of your concern."
She relented to the irritating thread, once again rubbing her shoulder against the post. "I don't mean your whole life story, but c'mon, why do you follow Shinjin? You seem brighter than the others. By your handling of Carlyle you seem to have some standards or moral compass. What makes you stick around here?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
He relented with another sigh. "The weak should follow the strong. It's just nature. I'm stuck red, so none of the normal guilds will take me, and most players might attack me on sight."
She waited for him to continue, and prodded when he didn't. "So, that's it? You're red, so you just go along with the biggest murder guild you can find?"
"I didn't have many options," he explained, "but more importantly, Laughing Coffin understands how things work."
He began to take a more fervent tone. "Strength leads to unity. Take a look at the front line. It's a bunch of small, competing guilds that fight each other for spawn zones and quests as much as they fight the system. Quest brokers hoard missions, bottlenecking experience and player growth, and info brokers sell intel vital to the cause piecemeal for as much money as they can gouge. Separately, they all want to strengthen themselves to the detriment of everyone else, and in doing so, they are collectively weak."
"And somehow the solution to this is a murder guild." Chie asked flatly.
"Not everyone is willing to fall in line. If the weak won't follow the strong, they'll feed on them." Oscar gestured to her. "You're strong, you understand this. How much does your party rely on you? How far would a pretty boy like Cedric make it without you or someone else holding his hand?"
"I'm sure he'd be fine." She replied without hesitation. While it was true the boy was soft, and outright terrible in close combat, there were many non-combat roles one could play in Aincrad.
"He's a burden." Oscar disagreed. "A lot of people are like him. Burden's that collectively pull us down. By removing them, we grow stronger as a whole."
"Ah, so it's just a righteous cause of purging whoever doesn't meet your requirements. I don't see this being very productive when even the clearing groups fall under your definition of weak."
She was glad to have him talking so freely, but found his ideas reprehensible. Worst was that she got the impression that he was a true believer in what he was saying.
"Laughing Coffin is a growing power. In time, they'll either have to fall in line, or simply fall." Oscar said, ominously.
Chie mulled everything over for a second. "You say strength leads to unity. That why you all follow Poh? From what I gather, Shinjin plans on ousting him and taking over. That sounds like infighting and competition, the same thing that according to you makes everyone else weak, and I can't imagine cutting off the head of your guild making it any stronger. And don't forget how many people you've lost just chasing after my party. How strong could any of them have really been when they lost even with the element of surprise and well executed ambushes on their side?"
The shed door opened, interrupting their conversation turned debate. In the threshold stood a young child. Umiko, as Chie remembered her name.
"What?" He asked sharply. Chie noted that he immediately softened his tone. "What is it?"
"I'm bored." The girl whined. "Can I hang out in here? Everyone else is busy."
"No," he said sternly, "I shouldn't have let you in here to begin with-"
Chie watched the unfolding exchange with a measure of amusement. She waved at the girl that had stabbed her in the back the first time they'd met. "Hi."
Umiko was innocently waving back when Oscar stepped between them. "Stop that."
He turned back to the girl. "Go practice your wakazashi drills. I'll test you later."
She slumped her shoulders in childish protest. "But I already did that."
"Then do it again." He pointed a finger at her and the door. "Go. Now."
With a dramatic huff Umiko relented, dragging her feet as she left, slamming the door as hard as an underweight tween girl could.
"Cute kid." She commented.
"No," Oscar glanced at the door again, "not really."
"So, how strong is she?" She asked. "Is she secretly some super ninja?"
"She has potential." He answered defensively. "That's why I'm training her."
"Sounds like a burden." Chie kept going. "Tell me, how long do you think she'd last on her own if she didn't have someone like you around? You think someone like Carlyle would be so kind?"
She got the desired reaction as he gave a disgusted frown. The unexpected interruption and change in topic had somewhat deflated his zeal, but he tried to continue from where they left off and get back on track. "In answer to your question about infighting, I follow Shinjin. He's the strongest man I've ever known. If Poh can't beat him in a straight fight then he shouldn't be in charge. He would either need to step aside, or become part of the problem and be removed."
A thought occurred. "By that logic I should be in charge."
Oscar cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "The hell do you mean by that?"
She gave a knowing smile. "Did Shinjin happen to tell anyone how the fight with me went?"
"No," he admitted, "but you're here, so obviously not in your favour."
Her smile grew into a grin. "I had him at my feet, broken and beaten, and we both knew it. It was a fair fight, just the two of us, and he lost. The only reason he's still alive is because someone intervened."
Oscar sneered in disbelief. "You're lying. Shinjin doesn't lose."
"Then ask him," she prodded, "from what he tells me he's a big fan of honesty."
Another idea formed. "Better yet, ask Umiko. She's the one that jumped in and stabbed me in the back so Jorg could blindside me."
Whatever Oscar was about to say, he bit his tongue. He didn't believe her, but it would be easy enough to find out. Asking Shinjin was, of course, a horrible idea, as that would be incredibly insulting. He could ask Jorg, but with him being incapable of speaking or writing that wouldn't get anything useful beside simple yes or no nods. He'd have to ask Umiko.
Chie gave a single laugh. "The strongest man you've ever met, worth murdering for, had to be saved by a child."
The door opened again, and Oscar snapped his head round to the door, almost appreciative for the distraction. In strode Shinjin, followed by Keiko and Jorg, having returned from wherever it was they'd gone.
"Time to go." He declared, more to Chie than anyone else. "We arranged a meeting with your party to negotiate for your trade."
"I heard as much." Chie replied. "Thought it wasn't for another few hours."
Shinjin nodded. "Originally we were going to do this at one o'clock, but your party's already waiting. We've conferred with them via PM and there's no point dawdling, so we're moving up the timetable."
Chie glanced at her HUD. It was only a few minutes before eleven o'clock in the morning.
Shinjin drew his longsword and unceremoniously stabbed it into her chest far enough that the tip bit into the post behind her. "Relax, I'm just dropping you into the red so you don't try anything stupid."
True enough, once her health had tipped into the red he withdrew and re-sheathed the weapon. He snapped his fingers, issuing the commands to remove her from the post and drag her outside. Distracted by the debate with Oscar, Chie hadn't heard him warp back. Waiting in front of the main building was Mamoru, as well as the rest of the crew of the Casket. Eight enemies in total, plus Shinjin. The only face unfamiliar to Chie was Higuchi. His listeners had yet to arrive. Keiko summoned and activated a corridor crystal, set to a destination that had been spoken too quiet to hear.
Chie sighed in relief as she was brought near Mamoru. "I'm glad you're okay."
He didn't meet her eyes, instead starting down at his feet in what she read as guilt. "Yeah, me, too."
Shinjin let them be for a few seconds, under the watch of a few of his underlings as he ordered Higuchi, who it turned out had a green icon, through the portal to scout and ahead and contact their party in person to get everything started. Once the balding man was through Shinjin laid a stern hand on Chie's shoulder to steer her towards the waiting portal.
"Let's not keep them waiting." He stated. Shinjin then turned to Carlyle. "You, Yarl, Fiori and Umiko stay here. Keep an eye out. Everyone else with me."
As she was being pulled towards the portal, Mamoru spoke while still staring at the ground. "Look, I'm sorry."
"It's okay." Chie noticed that he wasn't being brought along with her. "Wait, what about Mamoru?"
"You'll both have the chance to contribute, both have your part to play, but one at a time." Shinjin answered, ushering her along. "Don't want your friends getting any ideas."
She twisted, looking over her shoulder at Mamoru, still downcast. She shouted to him to try and reassure him. "Don't worry. I'm not leaving you behind."
He reacted as though that was the worst thing she could have said to him. Puzzlingly, he averted his eyes even farther, frowning deeply. Finally, as she was entering the portal, he looked to her. "Chie, I just want to say, I'm…I'm sorry."
She had initially thought he was apologizing for running, back in Rengoku. For getting the two of them captured when she'd chased after him in an attempt to save him. With a building sense of foreboding, she sensed it was something more recent. Before she could piece together what that might be, Shinjin pulled her through the portal, and they were gone.
Author's Notes:
Some dialogue heavy bits. Hopefully there was enough other stuff to give some balance. Wanted to have some interaction between Chie and some of the Laughing Coffin, so here was an opportunity for that.
After setting up Chie as a strong, (possibly overly so) capable fighter, I did not want her to come off as suddenly being downgraded to a cliched damsel in distress. Just because she's a prison doesn't make her a helpless victim. To put it simply, Oscar saved Carlyle, not her.
I tried looking up what Laughing Coffin's base was like, but surprisingly they all get wiped out or captured between episodes. It's not even described in the manga. That's some quality writing right there, just letting us know a major antagonistic force was destroyed in a throwaway line or two.
Anyways, if there's one thing to take away from this, it's that things can always get worse.
Thanks for reading.