How does one such as Subaru get help without asking the people closest to him?
An epiphany hit several aimless steps away from the Reading Room, a familiar phantom weight settling on his brow, around his head.
Oh, yeah! Subaru laughed, gesturing to an imaginary crown. "I'm king! Duh!"
Subaru felt a sense of security after divulging the premise of his plan. It wasn't perfect, and there were a million ways it could go awry, but it was a place to start. By this point, anything was better than hiding in the castle, shaking in Emilia and Beatrice's arms.
Anything was better than putting them through that sense of helplessness again.
"Y-your Grace?" Subaru approached a huge knight with a red mohawk: Jon, one of the boys who'd cooked for Crusch's retinue. He first reported of the capital's dying screams.
"What's up, Jon?" His green eyes stared straight ahead, above Subaru's head—one face among fifty standing in five perfect rows of white coats. "If it's about what I think, then yes, I'm being dead serious: do not approach the suspects if you see them in the streets. You got their profiles—," Four of them, anyway, "—you know what to look for. And if you happen to see something in the sewers or the outskirts, same deal: don't approach, don't say a word to anybody. At all. Keep your lips sealed, swords sheathed, mana reserved. Just come straight back to me, bodies intact." Subaru kicked himself for letting that slip—a couple of the less unflappable knights winced stoically at his word choice. "Don't say anything to the Queen, even, when we get back tonight. And if she asks, do your best to resist her cuteness. Trust me when I say, it can compel a man to do crazy things."
Jon, finally, cracked a smirk. "Like charge the White Whale with nothing but a maid?"
"And a gorgeous ground dragon." And the insurance that death wasn't an end, but Subaru was keeping that to himself as best he could this loop. "But in seriousness, Jon, what's eatin' ya?"
His smile sagged. "It's just that…" Jon's eyes closed tight, opened slowly. "I must know, is this—is what we're looking for—at all related to your tasking the Castle Guard with this instead of your Outrider Company?"
"That's exactly the reason." Subaru didn't need to force the grimness in his tone; he was certain of this besides. "Some of the fastest, most skilled riders and trackers among the Knights of Lugnica—fifty good men—couldn't overcome what's sure to attack our capital within the next couple days. There was no field report, however. Just a lack of one." Several eyes widened slightly, even fewer lips parted. A pair of winged creatures dragged themselves against the cloudy blue sky. Subaru kept his eyes there, his emotions suppressed. "And that's why we're just doing a 'routine patrol.' Something casual, discreet. The group who'll walk the streets are gonna be slipped into the usuals' routes; those guys could use a break anyway. Many of you got Divine Protections perfect for finding targets in a crowd. Just use what you know, as well as your eyes. Find the enemy before something happens. This entire city is at stake. That's how big this is."
The sky was blue and full of clouds, not polluted by screaming bodies and a giant heart.
Subaru lowered his face, meeting with several firm, determined, willing men and women. He hoped he could match their bravery here and now: "Please, be safe. And move like you gotta find the bathroom, but don't want anybody to know."
Roughly everybody broke into snickers or amused smiles, or fond rolls of the eyes from the Knightesses in particular.
It was easier to grin now. "All jokes aside," said Subaru, "those are the highest of my commands. Now, let's get aboard the wagons! We should've been out there yesterday!" He could only hope.
Hope, and pray, that that wouldn't be the case.
Upon parking the train of wagons in the shadow of the upper class district's northern gate, fifty of the castle's knights set off on ground dragons in an orderly fashion. Several spent their crossing of the grassland ring sweeping its fields on either side of the road for suspicious individuals, as well as the wall they approached. Not a single dark shape to be seen, as blessedly expected.
Sitting on the back of a provisions' wagon, covered in a tarp, Subaru upended a sack of of appas beside him. He ate the late breakfast, considering his options in case it came to fighting. He had to take his friends' successes and failures last loop into account. One thing was clear: the odds were against them, but not hopelessly so. Minerva and Typhon were the ones to really consider. An ambush while they were occupied fighting someone else seemed like the most assured bet, providing one could get the drop on them. Then there was Daphne—Subaru's stomach lurched at the thought of her bloodstained grin. No one deserved to die that way, least of all Petra. He could only hope once again—pray he and his shotgun could eliminate her before that happened.
Subaru reached for another appa, only to find that it was just one left. "Damn, did it roll off?" he muttered, dropping down to look under the wagon, throughout the curly, soft grass around him.
To waste a perfectly good appa would be tantamount to letting the others down.
A steady, soft tremor ran up Subaru's legs and arms. Behind him, a single knight astride ground dragon was rushing towards him, cutting through the grasslands.
Subaru had a bad but hopeful feeling as he stood to greet her, watching as she dismounted, and listened as she explained.
"You can't be serious." Subaru couldn't suppress the shakiness in his tone, nor keep his jaw shut firm.
Gertrude, a Knightess with orange hair in a ponytail, looked stoic as ever, save a drop of sweat running down her temple. "I am, Your Grace. Though I was set to walk its streets, I smelled something emanating from the northern poor district's cistern. Forgive me for saying this, but… it was an odor far worse than yours, if you get my meaning."
There was no mistaking it, and yet…
By all rights, Subaru should be elated for having found a lead within an hour.
Was it really going to be this easy? He wondered.
The entirety of the northern poor district was being corralled into emergency shelters, their doors and businesses frantically tended to by knights sharper with their tongues as opposed to quicker on their feet. Those guys, the latter of the two, were positioned about the cistern stairwell at the Outer Wall, along with their king, hiding in rooftops and vacant shops, swords at the ready.
Gertrude was one of the few out in the open like this, as well as Subaru, standing guard in wait. The provisions' wagon was being pushed into an alley across from the stone stair—packed with capture tools among other things. Its tarp rumpled wildly in the still breeze as these devices were drawn out and set on the ground: cantrips, defense and restraining equipment, a slimy mabeast in a jar. It wasn't guaranteed to do much, but Subaru wanted the extra insurance in case the worst happened here.
Gertrude grunted, frowning as she watched this play out. "Are you certain you don't want us to retrieve Lady Beatrice first, at the very least?"
"I'm sure." Even if he wasn't afraid of losing someone, Subaru needed to investigate how this would go alone, first. Just in case it was possible he could, as well as to test another hunch about the Witches' behavior. "One thing's clear about this enemy," he said. "They want to capture me alive."
"They could torture you, Your Grace."
Of course, Subaru had considered that. "I know," he chirped. Gertrude looked at him like he was insane. "But they'll want me alive regardless. And so long as I'm alive, I'll live to see another day. With that guarantee, I don't mind getting hurt in place of the people I swore to protect."
"Y-Your Grace…" Gertrude's rough voice had weakened.
"What? It's not that big a deal. S'what a king is supposed to do! Not sitting at his desk, awaiting good news."
Gertrude closed her mouth, though it did little to suppress the shimmer that had grown in her eyes. Without a word, she straightened back to an "at attention" pose.
And then, "It's a privilege to serve you and Queen Emilia, my King Subaru."
"Don't mention it…" Screams echoed in the distance of Subaru's memory, interlaid with gasping sobs of apology from Emilia. "Really, don't mention it." Ram scolded Subaru to take responsibility for his actions, his influence on people—how Return by Death made him appear in the hearts of his comrades.
"Is it still there?" Subaru was worried, and needed a change in topic besides.
Gertrude nodded. "The smell hasn't gotten stronger or weaker. It's not moved, I don't think. Whatever they are, it seems they're unaware of what's happening up here."
Having shed his kingly cloak, Subaru—in dark leathers and metal—padded through the drippy, shit-reeking labyrinth that served as the capital's sewer system. His destination was the heart of the northern poor district's: the cistern, an underground lake whose basin was charmed to break down organic, non-living matter. Water seeped into the earth after a long journey through cracks in the cistern, nourishing the land for miles around in tandem with the other districts'.
More importantly, it's where Gertrude's Divine Protection of Soul Scent flared the strongest—when she was standing right above it on the streets.
"It's a bit embarrassing to explain," she'd said, Subaru remembering as he snuck along a babbling brook of green water. "But let's say, when I'm near Queen Emilia, there's this… warmth I can 'smell' that nobody else can. It's not that her soul is pure, but I can tell she isn't tainted by the Witch of Envy or her shadow-class magic."
Crystal lamps lit the dim channels of the sewer, a soft and glowing purple like her eyes.
"But it's also different from Miss Rem or Miss Petra, who are chilly and smell of a crisp winter morning, or Ser Felix, whose soul always makes me think of home, playing by the river with my little brother. It's the same with earth gate users such as the Sworn Shield and Jo—S-Ser Jon: no matter how clean, they always smell of a hard day's work in the fields. It's… rather irritating."
Subaru made turn after turn, following Gertrude's instructions—her red-faced divulging of her Divine Protection the only blemish in her stoic delivery.
"But then there's individuals like the Lady Beatrice, and… my king, Subaru."
"And Witch Cultists."
"Especially those bastards. The smell of the Witch is the same as a shadow gate: overwhelming, and suffocating. It is genuinely indescribable."
"Try me."
"L-like blood and shit had a baby and made it produce offspring with puke. Your Grace."
Subaru had laughed; his face was still hot, even in the coolness of the sewer, remembering how too-intense he made it. "No wonder Rem never got into the details! Man, what an eye-opener!"
"I-I'm sorry, Your Grace! I wasn't thinking and got lost in thought a-and—!"
"Naw, thanks for being honest. Yeah, yeah, that's pretty indescribable, what you smell. Sorry..."
"It's as bad as I'm making it sound, but I don't mind it nowadays. Until today, that is. Today, it's practically billowing all the way to the surface. Here's the route I drew up, following it. You'll see one on each side of the cistern as soon as you enter, but it's the sliding metal door to your right."
The one Subaru now stood before, hand on either one of his weapons.
"That's the furthest I got."
At his back, a whirlpool churned in a slow, lazy circle, sparkling purple from the lamps all around. Okay. Subaru exhaled, inhaled—soundlessly. It's now or never.
He reached for the rusted handle, only for Gertrude to remind him that he could be tortured.
Just like Emilia was, screaming that it didn't hurt her. Subaru did his best to muster at least half of his wife's strength and heaved, yanking the threshold aside.
He thought of a cool line, but it died on the spot. Subaru didn't know what he was expecting—all of them standing in a row, or just chilling out playing cards—but he knew he was terrified.
And to his relief, the cleaning closet (chamber, really) was almost completely empty of any suspicious characters. There wasn't a person to be seen. Just an iron maiden twice as tall as any man. Lacking intricate engravings and spider legs this time, but Subaru didn't need such blatant clues to put the pieces together.
This has to be a trap. All his nerves screamed that it was a trap. But those are just my survival instincts telling me to run. To save myself.
These were the facts: Subaru couldn't get anywhere with something this huge. One option was going back for the knights and their capture gear, but for all he knew, that could be part of the Witches' trap. Or Daphne could just be waiting to spring out the moment his dumb ass hauled her to the surface. The poor district would then become a bloodbath of the castle guard. How would Subaru ever face his family again this loop, after failing so spectacularly?
Subaru inhaled sharply, power-walking to the container. I gotta be the first line of defense. For everybody's sake. If he died here, at least there was a couple more hours to spare and prepare. Subaru thought this, mustering more of Emilia's strength and courage as he threw the iron maiden's doors open.
And a huge mouth lashed for him, screaming hungrily. "Gah!" Subaru flinched from Daphne's spittle, her moaning roars. The maiden wracked, her restrained limbs rattled like hailfall. Okay, not into talking this time! Daphne gnashed, her teeth smashing together, echoing in the space. Throbbing wildly underneath her cloak, her shoulders sent the iron maiden rocking.
Subaru's hands failed so badly to find his weapons that he had to look to guide them, and upon managing to grab either handle, there was the horrible tearing of flesh. Several pops, like when Sekhmet dismembered Emilia.
Daphne's torso hosed the floor in spurts as it throbbed over to Subaru.
He let out a scream, throwing Invisible Providence forth and his feet back. Daphne flew into the wall, snarling hungrily as she was punched, only to squirm towards Subaru with double the appetite. Subaru screamed and screamed as he ran to the door, shoving with his shoulder as the rabbits gnawed his face through a screen of bloody hell, pushing with all his pain and suffering to visions of the ulgarm and the desert beasts and those of Vollachia and more.
But it was caught, the rusty old thing.
Daphne tackled Subaru, who could only hold up his hands in self-defense. The force blew him upon his back, upon the cool damp stone. Daphne writhed above, snapping and screaming, Subaru's arms wavering wildly under the ferocity of her struggle. Is this seriously how the loop ends? He could throw her backwards, into the cistern. It definitely wouldn't stop Daphne, but he could manage an escape assuming he had the strength to throw her far enough.
Any notions of even welling such willpower ground to a halt as Daphne's motions did the same.
She was sniffing the air. Sniff-sniff-sniffing, her little nose flaring under the brim of a black hood.
A grin consumed the rest of Daphne's round head. "Aw, hey! It's Subarun!" she cooed.
"...H'eh?"
Her torso sagged, a sleepy little sack of potatoes held by Subaru's steel-stiff arms. "It's been such a long time, Subarun. I'm a little disappointed that it's you out of everyone in the capital who came to see me. But! Since it's Subarun, I think I can wait to feast just a little while longer. But not too long, I'm pretty hungee after all!" By the end of that, she was laid against Subaru's swelling, collapsing chest, his thundering heart—he lost whatever strength using Invisible Providence left him with as soon as his suspicions were confirmed, and his body recognized this:
The Witches of Sin had no intention of killing Subaru.
"So, Subarun." Daphne lifted her head, speaking in a soft but layered and demonic voice he otherwise remembered her for. "It's definitely not my place to judge, but I wanna know of the hunger which drove you into a situation like this." She grinned wide, excitedly. Hungrily. From the shadows of her hood, Daphne's eyes twinkled: purple on shiny obsidian orbs.
The Hope Panting Against My Chest
