The train still takes a good half hour or so to fully stop at its destination. Everyone is told to stand and line up in the halls before being allowed to leave. At the entryway of the car stands two men beside the attendant, who inspects the luggage of any who depart the vehicle. They have a Doberman that seems to be more for fright than scent hunting. The two inspectors dress sparsely, with high collars and a shifty look in their eye. Ah, they must be looking for spies. I can assume they pack a firearm or two to deal with them. The Atelier members that were near our compartment during the trip expectedly pass inspection easily.
My initial instinct is to incapacitate them before they could discover us. But that would cause quite the scene among the other passengers, which would then need to be massacred as well. By then, the event will be well ruined, and we will have lost our chances.
Strangely enough however, the men barely spare a second glance, and we leave the car without a hitch. The dog does not even dare growl in my direction. Irene follows us out, close behind. Perhaps it is because we have this one already tracking us, that they decided we were no threat? Such a foolish notion.
"Oh… ohh!" Jacques shivers suddenly as we disembark and grabs his sides with his hands, "She is here! Mon Delphine…!"
"Don't lose your pants now," The young master sighs.
"I can feel it in my bones," Jacques takes a breath to compose himself, "Ahh, to be embraced by mon ami once more after our separation for so long!"
"Wow, this place seems a little empty for a name like Fantasia, no?" Kujo holds onto his hat as he glances around.
Around us seems to be unused farm area, likely bought solely for its isolated location. Save for the manor and the tent, there isn't a lot of glamour to be found in this backdrop. The tall grasses are reminiscent of wheat fields. As the day goes deeper into the later afternoon, the land is bathed in an orange light, and shadows grow long.
"Hehe, my dear boy, Fantasia's glory exists, much like the human mind, within rather than on the outside," Irene adjusts the small hat on her head with a knowing smile, "The manor is owned by the Blenman and Augustine family, two old names in our country. And the tent is courtesy of the same people who host Phantasmagoria's fixings. But we have an even more exclusive showing from many exhibitioners!"
"Let's see what they are before I fall asleep then," Victorique yawns.
"Perhaps you actually just have sugar crashes," The young master smirks, "Considering your diet of tea snacks."
"Recent studies support that sugar is what the human brain requires to run efficiently," Victorique shoots back, "But I guess the little bunny spends all his energy hopping around."
"Studies?" Irene frowns, overhearing, "What a bunch of rubbish! Everyone knows that the brain is a center of mana, though some convincing humorists may disagree..."
"M-mana...?" Kujo resists a giggle, "I'd have thought it was common knowledge by now..."
"Well, to be specific," Irene lectures, "While the brain is flesh, the human brain is a particularly fascinating device evidenced by how far we have come from beasts. It's simply ridiculous to dismiss this as coincidence when it is clearly providential design!"
I failed to see where her specificity was any deeper or more convincing. Nonetheless, we were getting nowhere prattling about theories. Slowly, as more people disembark the train, they make a steady stream toward the tent first. Even from the distance we were standing at, there was a plethora of aromas that puffed out with every flap of the tent opening. I could detect incense, sea water... and, most notably, blood.
"Shall we enter then, before night takes us standing in these fields?" I smile to the group and gesture towards the tent and the line before it.
"Yes, yes, we shall! You'll see!" Irene says with bubbly enthusiasm.
We move to get in the queue to enter the tent. When the flap opens for us, we are greeted with a most curious scene.
The tent has a central crest surrounded by nine smaller towers. Under each point is a chandelier disguised to appear as though made of suspended orbs of glass filled with light. The light is not overtly clear, giving the entire establishment a hazy and dim look, I assume, to augment the ambience of mystique. This is further enhanced by a flurry of aromas and smokes in the air, not counting the ones that gentlemen have in their cigars and pipes as they peruse the "exhibits."
As for these exhibits... There were several of them scattered about for onlookers. These varied in size, though I could count about twenty in total. Some of them seem to be simple lecture sorts, with exhibits of things like lost scrolls and tomes of magic. Specimens of extraordinary origin, or so they would have one believe, are on display in cages and one is even in a tank of water. There are also stuffed cadavers of what are claimed to be cryptids, as well as artifacts boasting of powerful arcane influence.
On the topic of artifacts, I did not see anything resembling a death scythe on display. While it is true that these tools have various forms, they more or less have to have an edge or resemblance to an item has either a blade or can cut. The artifacts here are meaningless things like chalices and crumbling tablets.
"Haa? Elle est où?" Jacques looks around frantically, "She is here, I can feel it...!"
"Calm your barmy bits," The young master says with a hiss, "They must be holding onto it for a show. After all, it's probably the only real thing they've got."
He taps my leg with his cane and gestures furtively to keep moving. Irene follows us as we pretend to peruse the crowd, despite nothing being of real interest.
Kujo looks around as we go. When we come to the tank, he stares at the bloated shadow within the murky water. Piscine eyes stare back from an oval form decorated with scales. The exhibition manager announces it to be a genuine mermaid.
"They aren't so beautiful as legends say at all! Rather, they only seem beautiful once their songs are heard! But they are all actually quite ugly..."
"Excuses," Victorique scoffs, appearing a little grumpy and unimpressed.
"That's actually interesting. We have mermaids in Japan, too! But they don't sing, and they are pretty fishy and ugly," Kujo remarks.
"Yes, yes," Irene imposes herself, "The many parallels that run across all human cultures on the planet are not mere coincidences! They are testimonies!"
"Batty," The young master sighs.
The imitation they make is interesting, I do admit to myself. While I had never seen merpeople myself, I would think they didn't look like a waterlogged stuffed toy lost in a shipwreck.
"Read it all here yourself, in the original Levantine script! The lost scrolls of the Pontus Euxinic!" A nearby exhibition hawks.
"Wine for any of you?" A waiter, one of the many circulating about with trays of small cups and platters, offers us his tray of reds, "Do not worry about the children. This wine is safe to imbibe for all ages."
"Oh?" The young master looks with slight curiosity at the dainty glass handed to him, "How exquisitely unusual."
"Wine is a holy drink since ancient times," The waiter smiles, "It would be ridiculous to bar children from receiving its innate holistic properties."
Though I refused a glass, the scent alone was easy to discern. It was a rather common merlot, served with nothing more than a fanciful story. He leaves shortly after handing a glass also to Kujo. Victorique refuses the beverage.
"Well, I'll leave you all to peruse as you wish!" Irene says suddenly, pushing into another crowd, "I simply must have a look at those sacred texts!"
Well, that takes care of one of the Atelier's clingier members. However, that matters little as there is still no sign of the...
The chandeliers overhead suddenly dim as theatre lights direct all attentions toward a stage previously empty, in the center of the exhibitions. There is a puff of decorative smoke, preceding the appearance of two men in suits atop the platform. They both look with rather dull eyes at the gaping faces around. It is a charlatan's entrance, rather than anything academic. How amusing.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Atelier, we had promised you a truly eye-opening Fantasia this time, and we will now reveal the centerpiece deserving of all your attentions...!"
There is a sudden sound of ripping from above as the cloth ceiling of the tent is torn open with a clean cut, opening a hole for another person who drops onto the stage, slipping between the skeleton of the tent structure. The third person lands on the stage with suave grace and stands. Jacques gives a badly stifled yelp at the sight of the ice saw in his hand.
There it is... And that is not all.
The man holding the saw is taller than the two suits beside him. He appears young, though his eyes have deep bags from poor sleep. His skin is fair, and he has a head of short, red hair. Over his shirt is a dark trench draped across his shoulders, and he wears scuffed suede shoes with workingman slacks. His green eyes look rather unamused, but his lips are wrought into a sneering smile as he holds the saw with a cocky air. The collar of his shirt is open down, all the way to his abdominals.
Me and the young master can see immediately that a demon's mark peeks out from under his shirt, marked on his left breast.
A demon contract holder who stole a death scythe... how odd indeed.
The two men start espousing a litany of flowery words about what the saw is, calling it "an angel's weapon" and all sorts of ridiculous monikers.
"... How do you suppose we...?" I smile down at the young master.
"Let's see if they show the other missing one," He mutters.
"Ruffians... scélérats!" Jacques can scarce control himself. I hold his arm tightly to get him to pipe down.
"And now, a demonstration!"
A thick slab of stone is rolled in from another tent opening. The fellow with the saw stands before it as organizers bade everyone stand back.
"Watch, as it can cut through anything with ease!"
Without waiting for so much as a signal, the man swings the saw and cleaves the block diagonally. Before the stone can slide and topple, he swings it several more times and breaks it into many smaller, harmless chunks. At first, there is silence.
"... magnifique..."
"It's like a sword of legend..."
"Woah, uh," Kujo adjusts his hat, "That's like how they describe the sacred swords in history...! Like zantetsuken..."
Victorique seems to be focused heavily on the cut stone. Her eyes are fixated on the scene of what just happened. One could pretty much see the gears turning in her head as she dissected it mentally, trying to find the "trick" no doubt... unfortunate, but she will never find one. She has no snotty remark about the display.
"How dare that... ugh, he's using Jacqueline like a common epee!" Jacques says, nearly chewing off the tips of his gloves.
"Hmm..." The young master still seems intent on observing.
"Yes, yes, you saw it with your own eyes! This! This magnificent show of ancient power that defies science! Brava! Bravissima!"
"With this weapon, we can smite down any enemies of the old world's magic! Those heads of the Science Ministry won't know what hit them!"
That does beg the question of why Ugolin was killed. Was he not within their circles? But now, unfortunately, is not the time to ponder that question. To use the death scythe for political gain is a massive problem in exposing our world... Such a risk must surely be eliminated... If only I had the care to. However, as I stated before, I only await the end of days now.
"..." The young master seems intently thinking about the situation currently. It is as if he were staring an opponent down over a game board. At last, he speaks quietly, "The redhead... follow him."
What an annoyance.
After that show of power, the gathering seems to increase in furor as the crowds rush forward to talk to the scythe holder. Some enforcers of the event move to restrain them before they overwhelm the subject of interest. Wild questions are thrown in the air about things like the spear of Longinus, Excalibur, Gungnir, and all sorts of famous weaponry.
Suddenly, amid all the hubbub, a single voice rings loud in opposition. It is loud and vocal, standing like a stone against the stream's current. Strange.
"How dare you!" A goer grasps the tweed jacket of a gentleman roughly, "You are denying what our eyes just saw?!"
"I am just saying..." The gentleman pulls off and pats himself down, "Perhaps the stone was tampered with! We know there are scientific reagents that can lessen structure and make it easy to cut!"
"Scientific?!"
"After all, we didn't see the stone prepared, correct?" The gentleman points out, "This could be a ruse to incite needless violence!"
His efforts to play down the supernatural are admirable... if only they were true. Still, his words are enough to make a stir. People whisper about him being a sympathizer for the Science Ministry. Victorique breaks from her focus to look at this man, as does the young master.
"If we want to lead Saubure, we need to think critically, do we not?" The gentleman says astutely, "Those at the Science Ministry always-"
Before he can utter another word, the red-haired man closes the distance between himself and the gentleman with an inhuman leap. With a flash of movement, the saw cuts through the gentleman, cleaving him cleanly in half. Red essence spews from his two halves like a fountain as they collapse in a heap on the floor. Despite how impressive that act was, it is only natural the nearby humans scream at the spectacle. Several women faint. Fear at the unexpected explodes.
"How's that for a set up?" The man sneers as people panic and start to run out of the tent. The other ringleaders flee with the guests, not having accounted for this sudden murder.
Victorique and Kujo leave with the crowd, as does the young master. However, before he does, the young master mouths to me, "Defeat him."
I sigh and adjust my gloves, silently murmuring, "Yes, my lord..."
Save for a few stragglers, it is just me and this man left in this tent with its ugly imitations. He doesn't seem bothered at all despite the blood and viscera all over his front. He appears acclimated to this. His sneer fades as he lays eyes on mine.
"... And what are you?" He points his weapon in my direction, "Not running with your head cut off like the rest of them? Think you're so tough?"
"Not at all."
A few casualties as collateral damage should be fine. After all, this place is just filled with fools. The world has enough of them.
I smile, "I am merely one hell of a butler."