Chapter 26
Lucy returned to Fairy Tail alone, responding to the hesitant nods of members she'd seen but never known with a smile. The faded conversations flourished once again as she headed to Mira at the bar; Mira, however, sent Lucy on her way with a brief "Makarov is waiting at the outdoor training field, just down the left hallway, can't miss it." Their eyes never met, the demoness focused on polishing the glasses, as if afraid to meet her gaze.
Had Loke stopped by, informing them of…. She cleared her mind, focusing solely on the wooden boards below her, and soon after, the coarse dirt, crunching beneath her boots. She looked up. White spray-paint bordered the field, with several wooden dummies within and a few targets tacked onto nearby trees. Makarov sat on the dark metal bench on the outer edge.
"Hello, Lucy. Take a seat, won't you?"
Lucy sat down, a gap of half an arm's length between them. "Is something the matter, Master…?"
He adjusted his cap, covering his eyes. "First, and forever foremost... I am sorry."
Ah, there it was. "Did Loke tell you?"
"No, actually. Cana had referenced her cards yesterday, foreshadowing your soon-arrival, and also an overarching ache… It didn't take much to find a newspaper that mentioned the funeral." He paused. "As I reflect, that seems rather invasive. We had been worried, as you can tell…"
Another trail off, as always when dealing with death. "Let's… change the subject, yeah?"
At this, Makarov cleared his throat. "There was another matter I'd like to address. Looking back, I have not been straightforward with you. I rushed you into Fairy Tail, without giving a proper explanation as I normally would regarding the exact purposes of the guild. Of the danger involved. That was because, before we'd met, I heard your last name, as well as your specialty in light magic, and I realized you must be Layla's daughter. I'd immediately assumed you'd be informed—"
Lucy, who had been eyeing the initials V.W.P.D. carved into the bench, looked up. "My mother? You knew her? Do you know about the Celestials, too?"
"You found out about them," Makarov murmured. "I do have ties with several members, though I've never been aligned with them."
The opportunity struck, and Lucy latched onto it. "Their goal—it's to unify humans and demons, isn't it?"
"Yes, however, there's a little more to it. A little grander of a scheme." Leaning back, he folded his hands behind his head.
"This scheme, as you said… does that mean you don't support the unification?"
Her guild master sighed. "Let's say that I care most about protecting my children. To that end, Lucy, I would do anything, even at the expense of my sense of justice." Rising from the bench, he added, "If you ever feel the desire to leave, to remove the burden of the guild mark, I will not hesitate to oblige. It is the least you deserve, from a man too focused on a long-gone past."
Hobbling, Makarov left. As Lucy lifted herself from the bench, she focused on her hands. At first, a thin layer of light encased them, a similar density to the layer which had covered her knife against Totomaru, but as she thought to herself, More, the glow intensified as if thick gloves made of light now covered her. Pulling the knife from her boot, the light now enveloped both her hands and the blade; the glow condensed onto the edge of the blade, extending outwards to mirror a sword.
"Light magic, huh?"
Lucy turned towards Lisanna, greeting her with a nod. "I'm just starting out, but that's what I've been focusing on. Concentrating my magic into certain forms, and making it more precise."
"That's not an easy feat by any means." Lisanna tilted her head. "Say, do you mind if I give a suggestion, from one member to another?"
Lucy couldn't recall if she'd ever had a conversation with Mira's sister lasting longer than five or six seconds. But, from brief glimpses, Lisanna seemed pleasant enough, teasing her brother and sister, as well as Natsu or Happy whenever they stopped by. "I'm all for it."
Standing to her right, Lisanna placed a hand on Lucy's arm. "By concentrating magic into one object, it's true that you can make a big impact. But, that's only if you make contact." Her fingers slid down, stopping at Lucy's hand. "If you want to make it as precise as possible, try starting from the fingers instead of the entire hand. However…"
"However?"
She hesitated. "How many types of magic, or rather, how many mages, have you seen?"
Lucy closed her eyes. Her mother had been a mage, though she couldn't recall her using her light magic. A couple of entertainers, here and there, who'd swirled their magic like puppets. An innkeeper, with a sense of show, floating the coins above the desk. Loke, with his healing magic. But in real experience, in combat, only Natsu, Totomaru, and Flare.
"Now that I think about it, in battles, I've only seen fire users. Not much else. A little healing magic, too."
"I thought as much. It's almost as if you're limiting yourself, Lucy. As if you're working with fire, trying to concentrate your magic into shapes, but, from what I've heard, light's a little different. It's a little more… free. Maybe that doesn't make much sense, but I think that, the more magic you witness, the more infinite you'll realize magic can be."
She was right. Lucy had been conforming her magic: restricting it, confining it to a certain shape, a certain mold. But, perhaps there were other paths. To discover, to tread upon, and to explore.
"Thanks, Lisanna."
It was hard to do much of anything, Natsu learned, when he was bound to a column. Rope snaked around his hands, ensnaring them to the marble, biting into his skin with the promise of rashes; when he'd urged fire to ignite from his fingertips, nothing sparked. Enchanted rope, of course.
A sliver of light, seeping in through the gap beneath the door, multiplied when the entrance burst open. As the clopping of footsteps heightened, Natsu focused on keeping his head high, squinting through his swollen left eye. This was, what, the ninth person to come in? He'd lost track—numbers had never been his speciality, after all—following the third guy who'd aimed a sucker punch at his chest. It hadn't taken the fire mage long to understand the gist of the situation; letting recruits have a go at him, as he couldn't resist, served as Minerva's first "pay-back." So far, a couple of punches, one girl getting close enough to hit his eye, some insults—trash, human scum, and pathetic seemed popular—and a couple of sly jokes, which Natsu would've laughed at if he didn't want to beat them all to the texture of mashed beans. All of it, though, felt limited, as he listened to several voices trail off at the end of a sentence, the note of disappointment ringing through. As if they wanted to do more—use magic, leave permanent marks, go a step further—yet couldn't. Forbidden.
A couple lunatics who'd come in spiced up their one-on-one "show-time" with monologues about their plans for humans. While Natsu mainly zoned out, the barest fragments he'd heard were enough for him to spit at said speakers. Well, he would've, save for the gag in his mouth, which also halted the profanity perched on the edge of his eager tongue. He knew Minerva was mocking him, that he could do nothing, that he was worth nothing, as if she saw no need to torture someone as low as himself; he kept his chin raised, the fire never fading from his eyes, for that oncoming moment where he got her back for this, where he got all of these shitters back for this.
The footsteps stopped; Natsu could hear the controlled, calm breaths, could make out the defined figure of a younger man, though nothing else. Steeling his sandals into the floor, straightening himself as much as he could, he braced for the punch, or the kick, or the slap, or the jab.
A pat on his shoulder.
The footsteps receded, leaving Natsu to wonder. As with the next individual, who solely tilted her head: acknowledgement. With the third came a return to the cycle of before, the cycle of violence, though Natsu remained elsewhere, recalling that feeling of speaking back to Minerva before his fellow recruits, the eyes upon him, intrigued.
Gajeel's words, coming back to him: "'Cause of all the ruckus you've caused since you came, fights and random speeches and all that shit… They're calling you the Salamander.'"
He smiled.
Gajeel pulled off the "piercing" above his left brow, tracing a finger across its smooth surface, then pushed it into his palm. Stepping back, next to the broom with the chipped handle and sagging hairs, he looked up as the pale outline of Levy appeared before him. Even with the minor glitches in the hologram, the eyes blurred and the fractional delay in movement, Levy's smile came through.
"Hi Gajeel."
"Hey."
She checked over her shoulder—at what, Gajeel didn't know. "I'm a little tight on time today; Lucy just got back at the guild, and I'm still behind on that. How's your mission going?"
"Some advances, not much."
"The same as always, then."
He didn't reply. She didn't question. A part of their mutual agreement, to give only what the other would benefit from. In a leveled tone, Gajeel said, "Your friend's suspected as a traitor."
The final traces of a smile, gone. Levy closed her eyes. "Natsu, I assume."
The draconis saw no need to confirm. "He became someone's ancillo." She winced. "After being punished, he just got sent on a mission by his 'master.' Anyways, they know he won't run off. Tartaros would have to be idiots if they couldn't see his connection to the prisoner."
"You said that Tartaros sent all of the d'ehmonaius at the Malba recruitment meeting to the main base, something they've rarely done… correct?" At Gajeel's nod, Levy continued, "And, if I remember correctly, they grouped the victors of orientation together?"
Seeing where her path of thought led, Gajeel added, "They suspected another spy among the group. Probably thought that the extra spy would come for his comrade, if he could, so they put them all in the same spot. And, Tartaros is hella cocky that they wouldn't even worry about this loose-running spy getting the better of 'em. Your friend fit their predictions perfectly, opening up as soon as I said I knew Gray, not even suspecting I could be lying."
Levy hummed. "I'll also guess that you see the whole situation as idiotic. How we sent two spies who actually value each other in comparison to your group, who prefer to send singular spies without personal bonds."
She hammered the nail with that one. Ignoring the bitter undertones, he gave her one of his gee-hee laughs. Thinking back to the corpse-littered floor of orientation, the stench a relic he'd prefer to leave in the past, losing may have been the better option for keeping undercover. And yet, if he'd lost, some part of him knew that losing there could've meant getting killed.
"Besides putting the victors together to monitor us, I've got no doubt they noticed his connection with Juvia, serving as a link to the dungeons. And with his recent speeches… what surprised me the fu—fudging most is that they haven't locked him up yet." Close one.
Levy didn't comment. "Is there anything we can do?"
Gajeel shook his head. "Salamander—his nickname is growing 'round here—keeps getting by, as if Tartaros is letting him off easy on purpose. Can't say why though, my intel doesn't run that high here. Following that match, where he would've been the victor if we took out some dirt moves, his punishment hasn't left permanent scars. Humiliated or angered him, maybe, probably affect him down the road, but some people have gained respect for him because of it. Something's telling me that Minerva—the dirt-bag in charge of his punishment—was forced to go easier on him, just like with Gray."
Levy looked over her shoulder again, turning back to Gajeel with a wavering smile. "Sorry for keeping this short. The best info I can offer you is that we've begun to hone in on the location of the main base."
A low whistle broke through. "Looks like you're ahead of José."
"It's all due to Erza; I had little role in it. And, as for the chambers… any new developments?"
The hesitation, an offer for him to refuse her request. It was too bad, then, that she had him wrapped around her finger. "Can't get any closer without the research head finding out about me. That's about it."
Another pause. "Stay safe, all right?"
You too, little shrimp.
A/N: A couple of chapters ago, I commented on Tartaros ending soon. There was a slight change of plans (I edited out the prior AN note on that), but from what I've outlined, there are ~3-4 chapters left. When it concludes, I'll be going back and rewriting the entire beginning of DH, to fix the logical fallacies (e.g. Natsu not seeming close with Gray, or Natsu's trust of Lucy on little basis) as well as to adjust the pacing. Until then.