Chapter 26
"Who will you heal first?" Cross asked.
Allen looked at Kanda. I want to heal him first. I want to make sure he doesn't die today. But Daisya –Daisya is worse off. I cannot – I cannot sacrifice – I cannot be so selfish – but – I am the Priestess. You are the Priestess, Allen Walker. Remember your vows. Kanda would despise you if he knew you hesitated to – because...
Allen took a deep breath and looked at Cross. "Daisya first," she said, and wished immediately that she had said the opposite.
:::
Cross nodded. He seemed to smile; it was hard to tell in the playful half-light. "Alright. I was beginning to worry that – but never you mind, brat. Let's get on with this."
Allen moved to take her position at the head of Daisya's bed. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lavi and Komui slip into the room to stand beside Lenalee. This had better go well, she thought. Or else... I will have failed them all.
"When you are ready, Allen," Hevlaska said, from the foot of the bed. Beside her, Cross nodded in agreement.
As she had done once before, Allen held her ceremonial sword close to her. She felt close to the Innocence this time, closer than ever to the power that coursed through it, that treated it as a viable conduit for her healing pursuits.
The white sword started to glow, started to grow warm in her hands. Allen watched in anticipation as she felt the power wash over her; she felt herself grow in stature until she found her head among the numerous stars of the galaxy. She probed gently around her, and felt the streams of power emanating from Hevlaska and Cross.
As if through a shimmering mist, Allen could see Hevlaska and Cross swaying on their feet, their eyes already closed. They could not see her; only she could see them, for she was more than human in that instant. Pulsing with the additional power, Allen began to weave a spell of healing around Daisya's body. She saw the hurts and bruising clearly, both internal and external, and worked to repair the damage inflicted on his body.
Time flowed on, uncounted, while Allen worked. In the strange, dim, shadow-encrusted world she inhabited, time seemed to have no control; she could see the ribbon of time, sparkling like a clear river on a summer day, flow by the innumerable twinkling stars as she worked. This is beyond our world, she thought. This is where I am working according to divine will. We must right our wrongs.
At long last, the evil essence hurting Daisya, and the bodily hurt that came of sharp metal alone, were both extracted and extinguished. There was a lingering hurt to his body that she could not fully heal, no matter how much she tried, and so, mindful of the fact that she had another patient to see to, Allen let the power go. That quick descent sent her straight onto her knees. She narrowly missed hitting her head on the edge of Daisya's bed.
Lenalee and Lavi, both on high alert, caught Allen before she fell; they steadied her with trembling hands, assisting her into a half squatting position. Allen reached for the headboard, and found that her fingers refused to comply with her will.
"Relax," Lavi said. "We've got you."
And so Allen let her body relax. Lenalee and Lavi then lowered Allen onto the ground so that she could sit and rest her head on her knees.
"Feeling better?" Cross asked. He had nearly fallen when Allen released him, but he had also caught himself in time. It seemed that both Cross and Hevlaska were already used to this type of rituals.
Allen did not look up. She took deep breaths, eyes still closed. "Give me a few more minutes," she said.
Komui looked on in worry. "Is something wrong with her?" he asked, voice raspy.
"She's just drained," Hevlaska said, looking down at Allen from her formidable height. "It happens. She's human too, remember."
"Drained?" Komui said. He took his glasses off and wiped them on the front of his shirt. "So she can't heal Kanda today?"
"I didn't say that," Hevlaska said. "She simply needs a few moments of rest."
"I hope you're right," Komui said.
Allen opened her eyes. "His legs," she said.
"What about his legs?" said Komui.
"There's something wrong there," said Allen. "I couldn't – couldn't fully heal him. There was an evil there that I couldn't entirely neutralise."
"Is he crippled?" asked Lavi.
"Perhaps – perhaps he will need to relearn how to walk," said Allen. "I cannot tell for sure."
"Relearn how to walk," repeated Komui. He passed a trembling hand over his face. "At least he lives," he said.
"This happens," Hevlaska said, looking sadly at Daisya. "But he can learn again. That's better than dying."
"Another soldier down," said Komui. Another life ruined, if only temporarily. How much more do we have to give, oh Lord? Have we not suffered enough? How many more of these children must suffer and die? How long more must we live in sorrow and agony?
"I think we could all do with a cup of hot chocolate," Hevlaska said. "Daisya lives. That is enough for now."
"And don't forget to grab an extra glass of whiskey for me," Cross said, rubbing his temples. Poor Tiedoll, he thought. He will be grieved to hear about Daisya Barry's legs.
Komui himself rushed out of the room to grab an orderly to prepare the drinks. The beverages were duly delivered in a matter of minutes and all three partook of the drinks gratefully. Meanwhile, some soldiers arrived to take Daisya to the Head Nurse and the physicians.
At last, Allen smacked her lips together and ran a hand over her mouth. "Shall we continue?" she asked.
"We should," Hevlaska said. She looked at Kanda, her eyes troubled. "I'm not sure how serious his injuries are."
"You're disgusting, brat" Cross said to Allen. "Wipe that dirty hand of yours. It has chocolate on it."
Allen fished out a handkerchief, glaring at the general. "It's not the time to be picky," she said.
"I heard that, you fool," said Cross.
Allen smiled sweetly at the general. "We're starting now," she said.
I won't look at Kanda, she thought, as she stood by the head of his bed. I mustn't. I must concentrate on saving him. I mustn't get distracted at all. And so she closed her eyes so that Kanda's face would not appear in her mind's eye as well as her actual eyes.
Again, they took their positions. Again, Allen drew on Cross and Hevlaska. Again, Allen searched for a possible wound beyond the superficial scratches and bruises. He seemed fine; there was no damage to his organs, there was no – wait, Allen thought, what is this? His vessels and muscles here seem a little charred.
What's wrong with BaKanda? And even more importantly – how do I heal him?
Allen took a long moment to rearrange her thoughts.
One, she thought, Kanda has no visible organ damage. That's a good thing. Two, some of his muscles and blood vessels are charred. What sorcery is this? Three, how do I heal him? Should I try to draw the heat out?
Hence began the long healing process; it was fraught with anguish for Allen, and filled with many failures. The onlookers watched, untiring and full of wonder, as Allen worked her powers on Kanda, until at last they too began to despair as the ache in their bellies grew stronger. It was time for the evening meal, and the three yet stood unmoving, waging an unseen war against unseen enemies.
Lenalee bowed her head, closed her eyes, and muttered earnest prayers; Lavi leaned against the wall, all traces of joviality long since gone. Komui twiddled his thumbs and tried to shred his beret; Reever, who had come to get Komui, forgot his agenda and instead sat on the floor to await the end of the ordeal. Even Link, standing at his post outside the room, felt his nerves frazzle with worry.
Somewhere at the Walls, General Tiedoll, having received only the news of Daisya's healing, sat in the pale wrath of the violet hour, looking out occasionally at the horizon where dashes of pink and purple mingled with the golden threads of the waning sun. His charcoal strokes brought to life a sketch of heathen Tartarus, that immortal and mythical terrarum horribilis.
In the infirmary, Marie and Miranda sat beside Daisya's bed and clasped hands, praying together for Kanda.
Soon, the evening withdrew from the sky, and darkness claimed the world. And yet in the shadowy healing chamber Allen yet worked, standing as a carven statue. She drew power from the Innocence, from Cross and Hevlaska, and knit together what was lost, and banished that which was evil from Kanda's mortal flesh.
The burns faded away, the charring relieved, and the cells regenerated, leaving only faint scarring. Allen removed the traces of lingering Noah-given malignance, and ran the tip of the glowing sword through the air over Kanda's body.
All was well.
Allen extinguished the power; this time, both Cross and Hevlaska fell to the ground as well. Cross landed on his knees, an expression of surprise on his face as he checked his pocket watch. Hevlaska landed on her back, and she grimaced as she struggled to stand up. Lenalee and Lavi rushed forward to pull Allen off the ground.
The spell had broken, and the onlookers were no longer blindfolded by the urgency and mystique of the healing ritual. Komui and Reever left, presumably to deal with urgent administration work.
As Allen stared down at Kanda's face, she noticed beads of sweat running down his face and neck.
"He looks more alive now," she said, and swayed on her feet.
Lenalee and Lavi placed their hands on her back at once.
"Let's get you to bed," Lenalee said.
"Alright," Allen said, reluctantly turning away from Kanda, "but dinner first."
"Of course we'll bring you to the dining hall first," Lavi said. "Don't underestimate us!"
:::
Allen awoke to darkness and soft cotton sheets. Where am I? Wasn't I in the dining hall just moments ago?
She waited as her eyes adjusted to the dark, fear rearing in her breast. Did something happen? Have I been kidnapped? She ransacked her memory for a clue but nothing specific came to mind.
Allen remembered drinking a bowl of mushroom soup. She remembered eating a whole loaf of soft bread. She remembered eating half a roasted chicken well-seasoned with rosemary and thyme. She remembered having two bowls of paprika chicken, and the fiery dance of the chilli across her tongue, subdued only by a cup of chilled milk. She remembered downing a bowl of porridge, and slurping the remains of the dish down.
Then she remembered nothing.
Where exactly am I?
Then the room sharpened into view. A painting on the wall; rows of locked drawers; a large window to the side; it was none other than her room. There was barely any moonlight spilling into the room, for the moon hung like a darkened lantern in the recesses of the night sky, pale and shrinking, a shadow of its usual glimmering self.
What time is it? she wondered. She felt in her pockets – she was still in her ritual robes – and found her pocket watch. She fished it out and tried to make out the time. It's already three in the morning? What happened?
Allen swung her legs over the edge of her bed; her feet found the floor, and she pushed herself off the bed. For a long moment she stood tall – and then she crashed down onto the rug, crying out as she found herself knocked off balance. Looks like I haven't recovered from the healing sessions, she thought.
A chair shifted.
Allen turned. Someone else is in my room. She stayed still, stayed silent, hoping to catch the intruder off-guard. Nothing seemed to move in the tattered light; even the wind seemed to have fled in ominous anticipation. Allen watched the darkness, waiting.
All was silent.
All was silent.
All was –
Allen heard a swish of robes.
Then a figure melted out of the shadows, kneeling beside her. In an instant, Allen's daggers were at the intruder's throat.
"Don't move," she snarled.
"It's me."
That deep voice; that cool tone – Kanda? Was it truly Kanda?
"It's me, so move those bloody daggers away," the shadow said.
"BaKanda?" Allen said.
"Shall I light the lamps?" he asked.
Allen moved her daggers away from his throat. "Yes, please."
The shadow moved off, silent and quick and graceful.
What if it's not him? What if it's someone impersonating Kanda? What should I do? Allen kept her daggers pointing out, ready to attack if necessary.
A light flared. And another. And yet another. And then a tiny fire blazed in the hearth. The intruder turned to face Allen. It was indeed none other than Kanda who rested against the mantelpiece, his back to the growing fire.
Allen tried to find her voice. Nothing came out of her mouth, however; it appeared that her ability to speak had been compromised by pure shock.
"Why that expression?" Kanda asked. He smirked.
"Why are you here, BaKanda?" Allen finally said. "You should be resting in the infirmary."
"I don't need to rest," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "You know that."
"You're not invincible."
"Are you invincible?" Kanda said, gesturing at Allen, who was still sitting on the rug. "Get back into bed before you catch a bloody cold."
"Go back to the infirmary," Allen said. "Don't make the sisters worry about you."
"They're all asleep."
"Go back," Allen said again.
"Enough," Kanda said. "If I go back, who'll take care of you?"
"Why would anyone need to take care of me?" Allen said. "I just need more rest and more sleep."
"You collapsed from exhaustion during dinner," Kanda said.
"But why are you here? Why not Lenalee?"
"You don't want me here?"
"I didn't mean it that way," Allen said. "It's just that you... you've barely recovered from serious injuries. You should be resting too."
"I'm well now," Kanda said.
"How long have you been in my room?"
"Since Lenalee brought you back," said Kanda. "About six hours ago."
"Six hours!"
"Yes. Are you getting back in bed or not?"
"Yes but I – I – Kanda, I can't stand up by myself. Could you please –"
Kanda reached Allen before she finished her sentence. He pulled her up gently and helped her to the edge of her bed.
"Thank you," she said.
"No need to thank me," he said. "It's my duty."
"Don't say that," Allen said. "Sit down, Kanda."
Kanda moved back towards the chair he had originally been in, but Allen grabbed his sleeve.
"Wait," she said, tugging his backwards. "Sit beside me."
With a sigh, Kanda sat beside Allen but he kept a distance of at least three hand spans from her.
Allen tilted her head downward and to the left. She noted the distance between them, the sea of bedsheets, and her heart was cut to the quick. Why is he sitting so far away? Has something happened between us? Was it the injury? But she said nothing, hiding the pain away in the deep recesses of her aching soul.
"What happened out there?" Allen asked, turning her head away.
Kanda fidgeted. "We saw some Noahs," he said. Rhode Camelot said – no, I can't tell her. What should I do? Who should I tell? Tiedoll? He might know what to do...
"And you fought them," Allen said.
"They chose to attack us," said Kanda.
"Don't go on such missions anymore," Allen said.
Kanda looked over at Allen's profile; with bowed head and hands stiffly clasped together in her lap, she seemed to be in mental anguish.
"I can't do that," he said. "Someone has to go."
"I've saved you twice within a year," said Allen. "Surely you've paid your dues. Let another captain go the next time."
"I'm not yet a drooling old fool," said Kanda. "Tiedoll and Cross are still fighting, and I'm in my best years. If I don't go, who will?"
"Let others worry about it," Allen said. A scratchy, tight feeling rose at the back of her throat, and her eyes prickled. What am I saying? Good heavens. I'm telling Kanda to become a coward. But he has truly given too much...
"Listen to yourself," Kanda said. He fidgeted again, and brought the back of his hand up against Allen's forehead. "You don't have a fever."
Allen pushed Kanda's cold hand off her head. "Of course I don't have a fever," she said. "I'm not the one who got nearly died after a scouting mission."
"Hmph," said Kanda.
"You're cold," Allen said after a short silence. "You can have the blanket."
"I don't need it," Kanda said.
"Your hand was cold, so take it, BaKanda. If you fall sick again, I won't heal you."
"I'm not so weak," scoffed Kanda.
"Fine," she said. "Don't take the blanket. But at least keep your hands warm." With that, she grabbed her discarded cloak from the floor and pushed it into Kanda's lap, over his clasped hands.
Kanda did not shove the cloak away. Rather, he stared at it, stared at Allen, and then resumed staring at the cloak. At his side, Allen watched Kanda watch the cloak.
What is he thinking about? she wondered. Why did I say what I did? I didn't mean it, surely. Where to begin? Where to end? What is it that my heart wishes to say?
"I know you won't abandon your post," Allen said, gently. "I don't know why I – why I told you to stop going on scouting missions. I know you won't. Duty is important to you."
Kanda nodded. Allen stared at his profile, and was mesmerised by his sharp jawline and the silkiness of his hair. He's so beautiful, she thought, so like the statue of David. A work fashioned by God's own hands, and yet here he is, always charging into death to help save us all.
"Why are you staring at me like this?" said Kanda.
Allen was startled. She pulled her gaze away, back to the window, back to her lap – anywhere but in Kanda's general direction.
"I wasn't staring at you," she said.
"I can't hear you," Kanda said. "Speak louder."
"I said I wasn't staring," Allen said.
Kanda shrugged.
They sat together for some minutes, neither looking at the other, the weight of things left unsaid pressing against their hearts, heavy as an immutable mountain. A few times Kanda's fingers twitched, and he almost craned his neck to look at Allen, but he caught himself in time, and returned to studying his fingers. A few times Allen opened her mouth, trying to find her voice, to piece together coherent speech, but she stopped herself, and closed her mouth, and forced back the anguished words into her soul.
Then Kanda yawned. It was a quick yawn, the intake of air here and then gone, a passing sound in the night. But Allen had heard it, and she turned at last to look at Kanda.
"Go to bed, BaKanda," she said.
"You sleep first," he said.
"I'm perfectly fine. So go to bed."
"You collapsed, so you need someone to look after you. Don't argue."
"BaKanda –"
"I won't change my mind," he said. "Now lie down and sleep."
Allen sighed. Is he going to be like this? Why can't he worry about and care for himself?
"Lie down," Kanda said again. "Sleep."
"Kanda," Allen said, brushing her hand against his shoulder, "I know you're tired too. You're only human like the rest of us. So – thank you."
"What are you thanking me for?" Kanda asked, truly mystified.
"For sacrificing so much for us all," said Allen, dropping her hand from his shoulder. "Especially on my account."
"What have I sacrificed?"
"Longevity," she said. "Freedom. Doing the work you prefer to do. Health."
"Che," said Kanda. "It's my duty."
"Yes," said Allen, "but thank you anyway. Thank you for protecting me all the time. I'm so weak – and so powerless – and there is so much to do before the war can even end. Thank you for not giving up on me, and for trying to make me stronger and harder."
"You're wrong," said Kanda. Something in Kanda's voice made Allen giddy with anticipation and strange sort of delight – as if she were on board a gentle ship tossed around on choppy seas. It was a pleasant feeling, however.
Kanda shifted; the bed creaked slightly. He faced Allen head-on, his face very close to hers. Allen could smell the scent of the holy oil, the mark of which was still on him.
Allen stared blankly at Kanda's eyes, which were just in front of her own. He's so close, she thought. So close. His eyes – his eyes are so beautiful.
"Why am I wrong?" Allen said, tilting her head to the right so she could increase the distance between them. She wanted very much to remain right next to Kanda, but her heart was beating traitorously fast, and she needed some distance in order to stay sane in the face of Kanda's proximity to her body.
"I'm not protecting you because you're weak and powerless," Kanda said.
Allen turned her head back to look at Kanda.
"You're powerful," he said. "You can protect yourself."
"I –"
"Let me finish first," he said.
Allen could feel the edges of Kanda's hair tickling her skin; she could feel his breath ghost over her skin as he spoke. Her blood ran wild in her veins, and shallow breaths took over her body. A strange fire burned within her, stretching from her heart to the centre of her abdomen. She had never felt more vulnerable – or more powerful.
"Alright," she said, feeling the world come alive around her.
"I know you're powerful," said Kanda. "You're not weak. You're the prophesied Destroyer of Time. But you need protection anyway. Not because you're weak, but because you need someone to watch your back when you're fighting the greatest evil."
"BaKanda, I –"
"Wait," said Kanda. "So, don't feel discouraged. Protecting you... is necessary. But not because you're weak, and not merely because it's my duty."
"Kanda, what are you saying?" Allen said, more to herself than to him.
Kanda sat up straight. Allen felt lonely, suddenly, as if her tingling nerves missed his presence.
"You heard me," Kanda said. "Now go to bed. Don't feel apologetic."
Still giddy from their proximity, Allen let Kanda tuck her in under her blanket.
"You'll stay till I fall asleep?" she asked.
"Of course," Kanda said. "I said I would."
"Good night," Allen said, and closed her eyes, clinging tight to the memory of Kanda's hair on her skin and his mouth just inches from her cheek, and to the galloping beat of her heart.
:::
Kanda returned to the Walls the next morning to seek out General Tiedoll. He found Tiedoll in the mess hall, eating with some old, gnarled soldiers, laughing over some old war tale from their earlier days. Kanda, meanwhile, waited at the side for the general to finish his lunch.
What should I tell him? How much should I tell him? Kanda wondered. He'll share what he knows with the other generals. It wouldn't hurt if Cross knows. What about the others?
"Yu!" Tiedoll called out. "You're here! Have you come to see me?"
"Yes."
"A minute," Tiedoll said, and turned back to the conversation ringing his table. After a few words with one of the soldiers there, Tiedoll stood up, bringing his mug with him. "What is it, my boy? You've been discharged from the infirmary?"
"I need to talk to you in private, General," said Kanda, glaring at his mentor.
"Let's head to my office," Tiedoll said, patting Kanda on the back.
Kanda untangled himself from Tiedoll. "Don't touch me, old man," he said.
"I'm so glad Allen managed to heal you," Tiedoll said, tears gathering in his eyes. "I'm so grateful to her."
"Don't cry in the corridor, you're embarrassing yourself," Kanda said, watching as some soldiers glanced curiously at Tiedoll, trying and failing to hide the fact that they were trying to look at the weeping general.
"You should be grateful too, Yu," said Tiedoll, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
"That's her duty," Kanda said. Under his breath, he added, "and I'm grateful, you old fool."
"You mustn't think that way," Tiedoll said reprovingly. He had, of course, not heard Kanda's murmured words.
"Don't lecture me," Kanda said.
"Always so cold, Yu," Tiedoll said. "You must be thankful to Allen for her efforts. I heard she collapsed after healing you and Daisya."
"I know," Kanda said.
"You know? Well, well."
"I've paid her back for that," said Kanda.
"How so?" Tiedoll asked as they reached his office.
Kanda decided to change the topic. "I came here to tell you about something I heard on the mission," he said, "and not to gossip."
Tiedoll adjusted his glasses and motioned for Kanda to take a seat. "What about? What did you hear?"
"I'm telling you in confidence," Kanda said. He looked at the general, on whose face was written genuine worry.
"Of course," Tiedoll said. "But I cannot promise you not to tell the other generals. Or not to tell Komui. There are certain protocols we have to follow, as you know, my boy."
"I'm worried about Leverrier," Kanda said.
"I would not tell him anything unless absolutely necessary," said Tiedoll. He looked at Kanda with a gentle smile on his face and kindness in his eyes. "You can trust me."
"I trust you, General," said Kanda. He looked down at his boots, and then looked back up at the man who had practically raised him. "I ran into three of the Noahs."
"That was why the three of you were –"
"Yes," said Kanda, "and I eavesdropped. Rhode Camelot said that the Fourteenth had awakened, and that this Fourteenth had imprinted itself on the Beansprout."
Tiedoll stared at Kanda. He ran a hand through his hair, and finished the drink in his mug. "Say that again," he said.
"The Fourteenth has awakened," Kanda said. "The Beansprout – Allen – is imprinted with that Noah's memories."
"How did you know that the Fourteenth is a Noah?" asked Tiedoll. He ran a hand over his face and down his grizzled moustache. "Who told you that?"
"No one told me," said Kanda. "I guessed it. From the way they spoke about him."
"No one told you?"
"No one," Kanda said. "Is there something I don't know about?"
"Nothing of that sort," Tiedoll said – a little too hastily. "You understand, Yu, that you've told us something we cannot hope to conceal. Indeed, we could not conceal it for everyone's sake."
"Yes, but –"
"I will have to tell the other generals," said Tiedoll.
"What about Inspector Leverrier?"
Tiedoll scratched his chin and stared right into Kanda's eyes. Kanda frowned and glared at the older man.
Tiedoll laughed. "You truly do care for that child," he said. "I'm glad. I'm really glad, Yu. Glad for both you and her. I hope you will be able to find happiness together…"
"What are you bloody talking about?"
"I'm going to tell you something," said Tiedoll. He was smiling brightly now; his eyes fairly glowed with delight, and the wrinkles around them were more evident than ever.
"What?"
"General Cross and I have long suspected that Allen might be the Fourteenth's new host," said Tiedoll. "Your news… has not really taken me by surprise entirely."
"You knew?"
"General Cross suspected it, and he shared that information with me – and with the other generals," said Tiedoll. "No one else knows, not even Komui. I fear we shall have to tell him soon, though."
"What does this all mean?"
"I don't know," said Tiedoll. "Who can tell what will happen?"
"General Cross ought to know," said Kanda.
"He doesn't," said Tiedoll. "We've been proceeding very cautiously on the few pieces of information Marian has managed to gather over the years. The rest is all guesswork. In any case, it remains to be seen how long we can keep it a secret before Leverrier ferrets it out. He probably knows something already."
Kanda nodded. "General, I – I…"
"What is it, my son?"
"I – what will happen to her?"
"What do you mean?"
"Will she turn into a Noah? Like them? I thought they were born like that."
Tiedoll sighed. "They aren't born looking like Noahs, if that's what you mean. The Bookmen have some few records on that race of people. It appears that they are born as normal people and morph with the years when the Noah within them awakens."
"So any of us could be a Noah waiting to awaken."
"I would suppose so," Tiedoll said. He fussed with his glasses, wiping them on the edge of his cloak. "The younger you are, the higher the probability of this awakening happening, I would think. But there are only fourteen of them at any one time."
"You never told me this," Kanda said.
"I wasn't supposed to," said Tiedoll. "It's a secret only the generals and grand generals know. And Komui and Leverrier, and some of the high-ranking administrative staff. I'm not sure if even Allen knows this."
"Why do you keep it a secret?"
"Why? Why not? Imagine the panic it would cause. The suspicion, the fraying of familial bonds. Neighbours would attack neighbours, and sons might kill their fathers. There's enough suffering as it is."
"How would we know that there isn't a Noah hiding within our ranks?" asked Kanda.
"We wouldn't know till they show their hand, of course," said Tiedoll. "But the Bookmen's records say that the Earl usually spirits the newly-awakened Noahs away at once."
Kanda stood up. "I have to go back," he said.
"Keep an eye on her," said Tiedoll.
"What signs should I watch for?"
"I don't rightly know," said Tiedoll. "Changes in her behaviour, possibly. Grey skin. Stigmata. Once you spot anything unusual, you have to tell us, Yu. For her own good."
Kanda nodded and left, swiftly disappearing into the crowd of soldiers and guardsmen dotting the corridors of the Walls. Tiedoll stood at his door, watching the men walk past, smart in their uniforms, boots clicking sharply against the ground.
"How tragic," he muttered to himself. "How tragic a life that girl has. Born to the yoke of slavery in our service, and then tied to the evil of evils. What is this life that she has? Why does fate jest so?"
Tiedoll shook his head and went back to his work, a feeling of imminent danger and ominous foreboding creeping around his neck like a noose waiting to be fastened.
AN: See? Daisya didn't die! I know he died in canon but that's too sad - we'll allow him to remain alive in this AU, alright?
This chapter was originally longer - but I transferred some 1800+ words to the next chapter because honestly, this chapter is already quite heavy emotionally. I feel quite drained (emotionally, I mean) after a cursory bout of editing.
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed this chapter (and if you didn't, please feel free to give me some constructive criticism).