Chapter 19: Second Wind

The breeze, the sun's warmth, the chattering of people around him…

It all indicated he was alive, yet something else told him that he was fine.

With a desperation he had not felt in a long time, Subaru patted himself over like he had forgotten his keys somewhere and was trying to find them in his clothes. Amidst the crowds of the market district, he looked like a madman, but few paid him any mind. Whatever they were so engrossed in, it was more interesting than the seemingly-insane young man hyperventilating in the middle of the street.

Natsuki Subaru had died. That was the inescapable truth.

He could remember the scorching heat, the flame engulfing him for a minuscule instant before ripping his life from his hands like it was tearing a paper in half. It had been so long since he felt the coldness (or, in this case, warmth) of death take him back. Now, he was caught unaware.

But he could not break down in the middle of the street, no. He had to find out what had killed him. If someone was trying to kill him, then there was going to be an extra obstacle to overcome in this mission. If someone had just attacked indiscriminately, then…

Yes, he was a Witch Cultist now, but that did not mean he had to stand by and watch people die…especially when one of those killed alongside him was the very same man he was chasing.

So then, what did he know about the situation? He was trying to chase down a traitor to the Cult, so could Acubens or his people be behind this? It was a possibility, but the mercenary had put himself in the line of fire too. For someone calling themselves the "Cardinal of Pride," he sure did not seem very keen on protecting himself.

Could it have been a third party? Maybe, but who? Clearly someone who had access to the firepower needed to decimate a building and kill him instantly, so that narrowed down the suspect list. Was it Roswaal? He was said to be a great mage, so maybe…

This was not like Shaula's Hell Snipe. Back in his attempts to reach the Watchtower, when she had killed him several times, the feeling was…different. It was different, and that was something he just knew. There was no way to explain it.

There were too many unknowns. Had it been a spell? A bomb? If it was the former, then who could have cast it? If it was the latter, then who could have built it? How could they have built it? Why attack him? Was he even the target?

Damnit!

Subaru had to find out what had happened, and soon. He was not in the mood to die again just to retry everything.

A quick glance at his surroundings revealed he was in the street right in front of the building he had started his surveillance on. It was safe to assume both Shaula and Adalric had already gone away as per his orders, meaning he was alone. On the plus side, he also had a little bit of time before he had to go back to the post office (or whatever that place was).

So, if someone was chasing me, how could I shake them off?

If someone was trying to kill him, someone with no regard for collateral damage, then the best thing he could do was lead them to a place with few people around, a place where no one else could get hurt.

Such as the slums.

As he leaned against his carriage, the Cardinal of Pride gave a weary sigh.

"Well, that's it, then," he commented to no one in particular, despite the fact that Gihlean was standing beside him. "Without th' Duchess's support, we're stumped. We need her, 's much as she needs us."

Gihlean turned to the manor, examining it for a short moment before speaking. "She made it clear that we are not needed. Even if we were, she would not want our help."

The look Acubens gave her was nothing short of hostile. "And who cares what she wants!? What's goin' on here, what we're doin', is much bigger than any of us, including 'er! Gihl, if we fail 'ere, if we fail now…"

He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I won't let our hard work be for nothing," he proclaimed.

A pause, and then she asked, "So, considering this deal is as good as gone, what do you have in mind?"

In the many years Gihlean had known her employer, he had never failed to plan for every circumstance. From the day he pulled her out of the slums, spouting some nonsense about "making things right," he had found a way to persevere despite the odds, despite the insurmountable challenges that would have made any lesser man give up and walk away.

But, at least to her, Acubens Kolwin was not a lesser man. He was everything he needed to be, and more. She had seen him get back up from worse losses than this. The Duchess was a mere temporary setback, nothing more. She could never, ever, put an end to all their years – decades, even! – of dedication, of diligence, o-

"Hm, I'm kinda stumped," the Cardinal admitted, earning him a disbelieving stare from his right-hand woman. "But…I do think I've a contingency for this. I was goin' to set this up anyway, but it can be sp'd up a bit. Let's go take a walk, an' I'll set this right."

He extended his hand toward her, as if beckoning her to accompany him. Without a second thought, she did just that, and stood by his side as he walked toward the entrance to the Karsten manor. Stood by his side, just like she had always done.

Once they were past the gates, she sighed. "I knew you would not let such a setback be the end to our plan."

"Don't get me wron'," he replied, looking up at her. "I was seriously countin' on the Duchess to see reason and come along with us. A real shame she didn't. That makes things…more unpleasant."

"How much, exactly?"

"For us? Not much, truth be tol'. For the rest o' them? It's going to get a lot worse 'fore it gets any better."

Gihlean nodded. That was, usually, how things went for anyone who crossed them. In most cases, things never got better for the poor imbecile who stepped between them and their goal.

Beside her, Acubens coughed into his fist. "Just t' make sure, you've got no issue with a couple streets gettin' a bit…burnt, right?"

The question made all-too-vivid memories flash in her mind. Memories that belonged to someone else, someone she merely used to be. Memories that were only half-hers.

At the forefront of all these memories was one of the very same man she now walked with grinning as he breathed in the falling embers of her scorched home.

"I thought you'd forgotten 'bout that," the Cardinal muttered, practically reading her mind.

"Such a thing is…difficult to forget."

"You'd be better off throwin' that memory away. It doesn't belon' to you."

Gihlean held her breath for a moment. "It does not."

She felt Acubens softly hit her in the arm. "That's it. Do away with all that nonsense. You're already perfect…why bother tryin' to remember a time you weren't?"

The mercenary looked up at her, meeting her gaze.

"Reminiscin' on your imperfections won't do an' good, old friend," he spoke. "Grow past that."

She nodded.

Soon, she would teach everyone else that very same lesson.

Wandering through the streets with a satisfied grin on his face, Otto Suwen thought about his luck.

Truth be told, he could hardly believe it. Exactly a day ago, he had more oil than possibly anyone else in Lugnica, and no way to get rid of it and regain his ill-invested money. If he waited for the Gustekan border to open again, he would be living on scraps for months! Even worse, the threat of wage slavery would have loomed over him like a malevolent wraith! Oh, if he had racked up even one more coin in debts…

But that was over now! Thankfully, he sold his oil for a more-than-acceptable price and was able to move on with his life, content that this little blunder could be just a bad memory.

Yep! Now he was free to go about with his life, as he had before. Never again would he make the mistake of spending so much money on a single good, no sir. He had learned his lesson.

Right after he was done celebrating by drinking a bit (a "bit" that would have left bigger men than him knocked out cold), he strolled outside the bar, intending to get back to his carriage - since he was too broke to pay for a hotel until last night - and maybe talk a bit with Frufoo. Maybe later, he would head down to the market and see if he caught wind of any lucrative business opportunities while he was staying in the capital. Knowing his luck, though, it was more likely he would find a way to screw up and lose his hard-earned pay…

And then, his luck managed to, miraculously, save him again.

Just as he took a couple steps toward the stables he had stopped in, a man appeared beside him and, in a single moment, wrapped his arm around him like they were old friends who had not spoken in years.

"Ah, you mus' be the merchant," the man sighed, sounding relieved. "Took me a minute to find ya."

In his drunken stupor, Otto could only manage a very confused, "Uh, w-were you looking…for me?"

"O' course, of course." The man looked around suspiciously, and turned him slightly to his left, toward an alleyway. "Now, I hear you sold my employees some oil, yes? Last night?"

Otto was a tad drunk, yes, but he could remember the event. "Yes…I did. They…those people work for you?"

With a kind, almost-fatherly smile, the man nodded. "They do, an' I'm proud o' it. But, you see, sometimes…they're not very smart. It takes 'em a bit to work outta solution to…more complex problems, and they've one on their hands right now."

"No way," Otto slurred, holding back a burp. "How can I…help?"

"Tsk, don'tcha worry 'bout it. I was jus' musing to myself."

"No, no…is there some way I-I can help?"

"Well…if you're up for it…I 'spose I could pay you a bit more…"

The sound of victory resonated in Otto's mind. What did victory sound like, though? A question to ponder on later.

The man sounded disappointed as he held up a holy gold coin, making it glitter with the sunlight. "Alas, I've fallen on hard times, an' this's all I've at the moment. Would it be sufficient payment for your help?"

A single holy gold coin! A coin which, in addition to those he received for the oil, would bring his total up to seven! That was quite the sum!

"I hate to trouble ya with this request," the man sighed, flipping the coin in the air. "'Course, 'tis your right to refuse, if you so wish."

"No! It's not pr-problem, really! What do I need to help w-with?"

"You're a kind soul, Otto Suwen," he commented, tossing the coin at him. "My employees're havin' trouble loading up the oil onto a couple carriages by the Bird Mail office. If ya could give 'em a hand, that'd be very appreciated."

Otto held the coin in his hands, not fully believing that he was actually being paid for such a simple job. His luck was amazing today! With a hasty bow, he turned and half-ran toward the post office, fully intending to earn his pay.

In his haste, he did not question how the man knew his name, or why he had sought him out.

The slums had not changed much since Subaru's last visit.

The buildings were still run-down, the ruins of the loot house were still there, the inhabitants were still grimy and poor.

Well, what had he expected, to be fair?

The sun was still rising toward its zenith, so it had to be earlier than midday. Last time, he had died around eleven in the morning, if his guess was right. Maybe he could shave off or add about half an hour to that estimate. By his best guess, right now, it was…probably a couple minutes to ten? If he had a watch, he would have been able to tell the exact time.

That gave him some leeway. He had, at least, thirty minutes before Acubens took his trip to the post office. Surely, whoever was responsible for his death would come out now: he was literally defenseless, save for his own wits, charm, good looks, and a couple knives in his sleeves (a trick Lye had taught him, and one that took him quite some time to learn). Besides, now he was standing in a completely open square with dozens of abandoned buildings all around him. If anyone wised up and tried to go for his neck, now was the best chance they would ever get!

But, as the minutes ticked by, nothing happened.

So, Subaru thought about it. Maybe it was too obvious. He might come across as an idiot who was just begging to get shanked or worse, but if his attacker knew of his newly-acquired membership in the Witch Cult, they might see this as a trap. It was a toss of the dice here, and he was gambling his own life.

Oh, well. At the very least, he would figure out some clue about his killer before he bit the dust again. Last time, he felt an immense wave of heat that preceded his almost-immediate death. That ruled out some people, like Emilia, Rem…and, well, anyone who did not use fire.

Unless they had learned to craft explosives! But, to be fair, he could not really picture Emilia locked in her room, trying to perfect the art of making a molotov cocktail, and one powerful enough to level a building and kill him immediately. So what then? Some giant bomb? Was Roswaal rich enough to afford his own private artillery barrage? Did someone else get smart and put a bomb capable of leveling buildings in the middle of the capital!?

Wow, security here was either atrocious or corrupt. How could people pay these guards to…well, guard if they let someone sneak in such a weapon? There had to be someone responsible in the city guard, at least a single person who would prevent such a thing! Had Lugnica fallen from grace?

At this point, he would not be surprised if the royal guard trusted some random gatekeepers more than the entire city guard…

He chuckled at the thought. The Kingdom must have fallen on some tough times if that was true. Imagine it: minimum-wage conscripts saving the city from Witch Cultists (and whatever Acubens's crab people called themselves) while the police stood by.

"Somewhere, in that city," he muttered to himself, looking up at the castle, "there has to be a Sherlock Holmes."

He supposed that would make him Moriarty. Nah, he was nowhere near smart (or evil) enough for that…but with a little effort…

Nah.

What was he even thinking? Hah, as if he would be an evil mastermind! Pfft. Who would his nemesis even be!? Reinhard!? Ha! The poor guy was too kind to ever hate anyone! At worst, he might even give him a whole speech about how he is not mad, just disappointed!

Can you even imagine if he-

BOOM.

The explosion shook the slums like a raging earthquake, as if some god decided to split the city apart. A thunderous roar came from the city's center, and a nigh-invisible shockwave followed it after. Debris floated up to the sky and fell unceremoniously, sprinkling the surroundings with remnants of whatever had been torn apart by the blast.

Subaru stared from afar, mouth wide open in horrified shock. Then, after coming back to his senses, he took off running toward the explosion.

He had not been the target.

Tap, tap, tap…

Roswaal softly tapped his finger against his desk, pondering on his situation. He understood what was at stake, he understood the situation he had been put in…and he had to find a way out of it.

Luckily, his friend Russell had done him a massive favor and put every Six Tongues agent he could spare to work, most of them focusing on rooting out the Witch Cult's activities and forcing them into the open. After that, it was just a matter of taking down their Archbishops one-by-one. From what Roswaal knew, each of them was a threat comparable (and, in some cases, surpassing) the Witches of Sin.

Maybe, even…surpassing the Warlock of Melancholy…

No, he would not allow such thoughts into his mind. There was no use in pondering on such a hypothetical. If, if, such a threat existed, he would make sure to deal with it in due time…and he would not fail.

But, right now, Subaru remained his greatest - his only - priority. Taking down the Cult would do everyone a favor, but it remained a simple step in his path. At least, he would lay the groundwork for it, and let whoever carried on his efforts finish what he began.

By the time he was finished, he would reunite with his Teacher. And if it was not him, then another Roswaal, either his descendant or one from another…timeline, for a lack of a better word. He would not, could not, turn back now…not after all he did.

Now, he was living through the calm before the storm. In a few days, weeks, months maybe, the Six Tongues would report their findings, and he would finally begin rectifying the mistakes that brought him here. At last, he would guide events back to the Tome's scripture, and let it guide him in turn. He was so close, too…

A faint knock on the door brought him out of his musings, and he smiled thinly as he spoke, "Co~me on in."

The door opened, and Emilia stepped into his office, her spirit nowhere in sight. There was a slight frown on her face, which intrigued Roswaal a bit. What could possibly be responsible for her soured mood?

"Hello, Roswaal," she muttered as she took a seat in front of him, her voice only slightly above a whisper. "There was…something I wanted to ask, if it's alright with you."

The clown grinned. "Of course, of course~. I am but your humble se~rvant, Lady Emilia, and your most sta~lwart ally."

"Then…would we be able to return to the capital?" she asked, meeting his gaze with a mix of hope and doubt.

"Why, I don't see what is sto~pping us from doing so," he replied cheerily. "Although, I am interested in kno~wing why you wish to return. The ca~pital is still recovering from that heinous atta~ck, and there is little of importance the~re."

She looked downward. "I wanted to…see something there."

"My, but Lady Emilia, su~rely sightseeing is not your only rea~son."

"There's more to it, yes, but…I'm not sure I can…"

"I see, I see…so the whole situation is one gra~nd mystery, then? Why? Have you prepa~red a surprise party for me in the capital? Oh, dear, but my birthday is still mo~nths awa~y!"

The trip was a short one, of course, but that was not what was keeping Roswaal from acquiescing to this request.

Emilia seemed to tense up. "Roswaal…this is serious. Would you be able to arrange a quick trip back to the capital…please?"

He waited for a moment before responding. Something was plaguing the royal candidate, and he needed to find out what. If he could not do so now, then he would do so later. It was no big loss for him.

"We~ll, Lady Emilia, if you insi~st, then I have no choice but to obe~y. Allow me a moment and I will send for the mai~ds to prepare the carriage. It is quite early, so we might arrive well into the afternoo~n."

The young candidate nodded and took a deep breath. "That's…thank you, Roswaal."

Waving his hand dismissively, the Court Mage replied. "Please, please, it is no pro~blem at all. In fact, I could do with a tri~p to the capital myse~lf."

He had more than enough problems to deal with right now, and he would not let the half-elf's troubles snowball into something bigger.

He had a job to do, after all.

The smell of smoke was overbearing, because it was the only thing he could smell.

Even from far away, Subaru could see the plume of black smoke rise from what he assumed was once a post office. Even from far away, he could smell it. It was smoke mixed in with…something. Something strange. At a guess, he would say it was smoke and oil, but that made no sense. Why would there be oil in a post office?

For once, just for once, he wished he could talk to someone more knowledgeable than him about this. Adalric was nowhere to be found, likely scouting as ordered. Shaula was…probably not going to be much help. His "siblings" were off on their own adventures. Even Louis, who lived inside him, was silent. Had been silent. Since his return to Roswaal's manor, she had not interacted with him in any way.

As he got closer and closer to the ruins of the post office, he could see a crowd gathering. A fair amount of those going there wore city guard uniforms or armor, and he could swear he saw someone in the red-and-white of the royal guard. That made sense: such an explosion in the bustling trade center of the capital was bound to draw attention.

It took him a few more minutes to reach the site of the blast. Buildings for almost a block around the place had suffered considerable damage. Glass lay on the floor from cracked windows, and all sorts of trinkets had been scattered about by the sheer power of the shockwave. Small pieces of wood and other materials rained down from the sky like some sort of hellish rain, a constant reminder of what had transpired.

The building itself, a three-story office-like place, was horribly destroyed. It had collapsed on itself, and almost all of the bottom floor was simply gone. What little remained of the top floor - which was more than could be said for the rest of the building - lay in ruins. It was as if someone took a giant bite out of the building and let it topple.

A few of the city guards and some volunteers from the spectating crowd were hauling people from the wreckage. Most of those recovered…were just remains. More often than not, he saw someone pull out a severed limb, or a tattered article of clothing that had once belonged to someone. A grieving shriek from the audience let him know that someone recognized those remains, unfortunately.

One of the guards removed a piece of wood that seemed to have once been a pillar and found an arm underneath. With his comrades' help, he pulled free the rest of the debris, revealing - much to Subaru's relief - that the arm was still attached to a torso.

That was the only good part of the whole ordeal.

Whoever that poor fool had been, he was crushed under the rubble. It was not a pleasant way to go, and Subaru sadly knew quite a few of them.

The guards kept working to free the person, or corpse, trapped underneath. Piece-by-piece, they removed every bit of debris that lay on top of the bloodied cadaver and, once finished, they pulled out what remained of him from the building.

Subaru closed his eyes and turned away.

The corpse was once a pink-haired man - clothed in a scarlet military uniform, though the color could be attributed to all the blood that bathed him - who had been severed at the waist.

AN: Would you look at the date? I can't believe it. It's been a year since I started Believer in Love, a year since I wrote the first chapter and posted it here twice. The first copy is long gone, since I deleted it instead of editing it after I noticed a few mistakes...

When I posted that chapter, I didn't know that it would be my gateway into such a dedicated community, or that it would become one of my main hobbies. I fully expected to finish this story in about ten chapters and just never write here again, especially since I had only planned up to like six chapters after posting chapter one. Now, we're just crossing the halfway point, and there's much more to come.

I haven't updated this in half a year, and I'm sorry for that. Every time I looked at my docs for this chapter, I just got the urge to write something, anything, else. Arc 7 filled my mind with ideas, and I thought that I could get them out of my head before continuing my actual stories. That led to Can Scars Heal?, then Majestic. Majestic., and then...I started getting carried away. Now, though, I'm back to fully focusing on this and Raven-Black. There's many, many things I want you all to read, and I can't wait to get there.

Thank you to everyone that reads these fics. You're the best.