Halkegenia Online v2 – Chapter 1
Sakuya wasn't sure at first whether the hammering was from her door or in her head, but as it went on she knew she was going to have to do something about it. The Lady of the Sylphs groaned as she groped about in the dark. Her hand brushed against the control for the bedside lamp, leaving her dazzled by warm light illuminating a bedroom bigger than her entire Tokyo apartment.
She started looking for her glasses before coming to her senses. Ah, that was right. Yamada Sakura may have suffered from severe myopia, but Lady Sakuya of the Sylphs enjoyed perfect vision. She rubbed the sleep from her bleary eyes.
The hands of the grandfather clock tucked into the corner were presently at fifteen minutes past three. Sakuya briefly entertained the idea of ignoring the noise and going back to sleep, but at this hour it was bound to be
something that couldn't wait. The knocking came again.
She climbed out of bed dressed in a pale green gown, and with her long hair tied up for convenience. It wasn't a look that anyone would associate with Lady Sakuya. It wasn't a look that anyone would have associated with Yamada Sakura either.
It felt a bit like a lie she couldn't stop telling. But it was a convenient lie, even a necessary one, so no point stopping now. After covering herself in a light shawl and checking her appearance in the mirror, Sakuya cracked open the door and peered into the hallway.
"Yes?" she asked, blinking.
Flanked by two of her elites, the captain of Sakuya's bodyguards stood in the hall. His eyes flickered from left to right and then settled on Sakuya.
"Sakuya-sama," Ephi spoke, his features set in firm resolve, "we need you to come with us."
"What is it?" She tried to shake the sleep from her brain. "What's wrong?"
The other guards chose to look somewhere else while Ephi breathed a sigh. "Milady, it's Novair . . ."
Argo was not a happy kitty, and it wasn't just because she'd been dragged out of bed before dawn to wade around in the mud. Though that might have had something to do with it.
The information broker pulled her cloak a little tighter as she sipped a mug of hot tea. If that didn't wake her up, all she needed to do was look in front of her. One hundred percent guaranteed to wake her up and make her lose her dinner.
The corpse had been left untouched where it had been found. The patrols at least knew enough not to mess with a crime scene. The Sylph stared sightless up into the sky, the collar of his shirt stained crimson. Argo could have used the term slit to describe it, but it was more accurate, if unwholesome, to say it was ripped open or maybe sawed all the way back to the bone.
"Time of death estimated to as midnight judging by ambient temperature and commencement of rigor mortis," reported a black clad Spriggan woman.
"Are you sure, Abigail-san?" The question came from a distraught looking Yulier. Thinker stood silently beside her. Neither Undine had bothered to do more than pull a jacket over their nightclothes before rushing to the scene.
"I'm reasonably sure," Abigail said, wiping her hands with a handkerchief. "There could be some unknown variables relating to our biology. But this matches with what I would expect."
"What the devil was he doing out here so late at night?" Lord Rute paced impatiently under the watchful gaze of his cool head secretary while tugging at his mustache like he was going to pull it right off his lip. "It's suspicious is what it is!"
"Who said he was out here?" Argo spoke loud enough to be heard by everyone present. "There's a good chance that the body was moved here to get rid of the corpse. There's not enough blood, and slimes will eat
almost anything that doesn't fight back. Too bad the mob patrols have been doing their job."
"Argo!" The goth coroner looked horrified. "That wouldn't be good! If that happened, we wouldn't have found the body, and then we wouldn't know that someone had killed him. And that would be terrible! Unless . . . you're
being sarcastic . . ."
"Bingo," Argo said holding up a finger. "Anyways, if I was dumping a body, 'tis what I would do. Not that I have any experience with that sort of thing."
A quartet of green and yellow stars descended from the direction of Arrun. Argo stuffed her hands into her pockets, feeling her ears fold down of their own volition.
Lady Sakuya touched down with a delicate flare of her wings, seemingly completely oblivious to the mud that was destroying her slippers. "I came as soon as I heard . . ." She stopped when she got her first good look at the
body. She covered her mouth with both hands as she took it in. Argo couldn't blame her for not wanting to believe what she was seeing. "How- how did this happen?" Her voice came out strangled as she fought for control.
Before Argo could step up to answer she was brushed aside by a goateed Undine and tattooed Salamander duo. "We'll take it from here, Miss," the Undine man said briskly before turning to the Faerie Lords. Argo rolled her
eyes. "Lady Sakuya. We're with the Watch. If you've already been brought up to speed, can you confirm the identity of this man for us?"
"Yes." Sakuya regained her composure. "He is, was, Novair. My aide. So an investigation has already been called? Which Lord authorized this?"
Argo wouldn't have been a very good information broker if she didn't pick up on Sakuya's sudden look of displeasure as a trio of red stars broke away from the late night constellations and began to drift downward. Getting
bigger, the one in the lead was hard to mistake.
"Good morning," said Lord Mortimer. He was fashionably late, dressed in red and black robes over formal attire. Somebody had decided appearance trumped haste. "Lady Sakuya, Lady Alicia. Rute, Thinker." The Salamander
watchmen held off on a reflexive salute.
"Mortimer." Sakuya regarded him with a look verging on disdain. "I should have known it would be you."
"If you mean assigning the investigation team, then yes." He nodded to the two watchmen. "I was the first person informed after the Watch Captain. It seemed prudent to act decisively. Unless you want to debate while a
murderer runs free." The Salamander Lord turned his clinical attention to Novair. "This is unfortunate. Your aide was a valuable asset."
"Asset?" Sakuya bristled.
"Lady Sakuya," Vakarian interrupted quickly. "You were the last person to see Novair alive, correct?"
The Sylph rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I don't know. Novair keeps, kept, his own apartment. He departed the Governor's mansion around eleven last night . . . yes, that had to be about the time."
"Can you tell us what you were discussing beforehand?" the Undine officer added.
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Paperwork, supply reports, things of that nature."
"And this was a purely professional relationship?" The Salamander detective added.
"Of course! We-"
"Then, one last question." Jensen cut in. "Are there any witnesses that can corroborate your location after the deceased departed."
'Oh boy,' Argo thought. She'd seen enough crime dramas to know where this was going, same as the response.
One thing could be said for pale skin. Even in the moonlight, the red stood out dangerously. "Just what are you suggesting?" The Lady of the Sylphs looked suddenly dangerous enough to take out an entire raid. Her eyes
alone could have stalled dragons.
"We don't have a lot to go on right now." The tattooed Salamander didn't back down. "It's our job to check every lead, and you're one of the easiest to check off our list. It's nothing personal ma'am."
"We want to find who did this as badly as you do," the goateed Undine agreed with his partner. "Help us, to help you."
Sakuya regarded both men coldly. Her expression softened as she turned back to the lifeless body of her subordinate. "I understand. I stayed up until . . . it must have been midnight I suppose. One of my other assistants,
Recon, was with me. Theresa also came and laid out my clothes, that was around eleven thirty. My guards were on watch the entire time," Sakuya said waving her hand. "Just, just find whoever did this."
"It is our highest priority," the Undine swore. "We won't rest until we've gotten to the bottom of this."
'I'm sure,' Argo thought.
"Then that just leaves who's going to announce it," Alicia stated unhappily. This wasn't the sort of news that anyone wanted to be remembered for delivering. "Hey Thinker, I'd hate to have you be the one, but you're pretty
good with the public-"
"I'll do it," Sakuya said in a calm and firm tone. Nobody was going to argue with her. "Novair was one of mine. I'll take responsibility." Her eyes rested on the body as she seemed to retreat into her own thoughts.
Alicia tapped Argo on the shoulder and led her out of earshot. "So."
"So," Argo parroted.
"Will you take this job for your normal rate?" Alicia asked in that not so innocent way that gave up her whole 'cute kitty girl' act.
"I thought you just gave the job to the dynamic duo?" The informant twitched her ears slightly towards the watchmen. The two may have been police officers IRL, but that didn't do a lot to inspire Argo's faith in them.
"Did I?" Alicia asked. "I thought that was Mortimer. It must have slipped my mind." Alicia shrugged. "Just give me a list of who and what you need."
"Well, there's one guy I'd like to bring in on this. But don't bother," Argo said. "I'll ask him myself."
He opened his eyes.
A hand stretched out into the air and swiped as if expecting something to happen.
Nothing.
It had become his morning ritual.
Closing his eyes with a sigh. The sounds of the morning street wafted through the window. And the cool morning breeze rippled the curtains.
'Alright.'
Kirigaya Kazuto, the Black Swordsman Kirito, yawned his way down the stairs. Warm early morning light forced him to squint as he was met by a pleasant sizzling noise and a tantalizing scent that was almost enough to snap
him awake. Almost.
"Jeez Nii-chan." Suguha gave him a look from the breakfast table. "So slow." She was pouring over a broadsheet while munching on jam and toast.
"Papa needs to stop staying up so late," Yui said, perched in a chair and swinging her legs.
The Spriggan squinted blearily at the two girls. Ignoring the jabs, he turned to the stove, and the last occupant in the room.
"Good morning." Asuna smiled as he put arms around her and buried his face in the back of her neck. It would have been nice to just fall back asleep right there on his feet.
"Morning." Kirito muttered, and then turned his head rather than risk coating Asuna's hair in saliva. "What is that? Smells good."
"It's called shakshuka." The Maeve explained. "It's a middle eastern breakfast of tomatoes, onions, and poached eggs."
"That sounds delicious." And it looked it, little islands of egg white flouted in a simmering pools of vibrant red.
"Good enough that Agil-san wants some pointers."
"Huh?"
"Well, do you remember in Aincrad how you said I could probably auction off the recipes I made?" Kirito did remember that.
"Was that what the ramen noodles were for?" Suguha nibbled on a piece of toast.
"The noodles weren't hard. But I'm completely out of ideas for the broth. Reinventing soy sauce might be out of the question this time."
"I don't like it," Kirito interjected loudly.
"Eh?" Suguha looked confused. "Why?"
"Because if Asuna's cooking gets out," the young Spriggan said, crossing his arms, "it means we'll have to share her." There was silence at the breakfast table.
His sister gave him a disgusted look. "Are you for real?"
"It's not like he's asking me to come work at the café." Asuna took the skillet off of the heat and began spoon out the contents. "Besides . . . I need to start making myself useful again. You and Suguha are working. I can't sit and do nothing forever."
"But you're not doing nothing you're . . ." Kirito was silenced as Asuna handed him a fork and plate. Without words or gestures, a message had passed between them.
A week ago they'd received an offer from Lord Mortimer. The Salamander Lord had been impressed by their performance in Albion and believed that their talents could be put to good use.
Kirito had been less than sure; Asuna had been exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. They'd only just found each other again, and their peace, and Mortimer had come to offer them war. He wanted her to say no. He wanted them both to say no.
But how could he protect her?
This world didn't let them hide in a Safe Zone while the monsters were cleared away.
Asuna shook her head wistfully. "Well, it's just a thought. Agil says if I come up with something good enough to become his best seller he'll give us a cut of the profits."
"That sort of generosity is going to come with a price tag," Kirito warned. As If Asuna would forget the terrifying reputation garnered by the merchant of Aincrad's 50th Floor. At least Eda seemed happy with his newfound business drive.
The conversation wandered from the Café and recipes to local news and then to congratulations for Suguha's promotion. Arrun had begun to experience an influx of trade with the surrounding towns, and as trade boomed, it was quickly becoming part of his sister's work to mediate the disputes that were happening every day as cultures clashed.
It wasn't long before the clock on the wall read ten before eight. Whether Asuna found work today, or tomorrow, or in a week's time, for now she kept herself busy with Yui, exploring Arrun and rebuilding her sense of normalcy.
"Come on, Mama!" Yui pulled Asuna towards the door. Kirito followed them out to the front planter. "Come on, there's going to be classes today, come on or we're going to be la-" Yui stopped mid word. A hooded Cait Sith was standing on the porch with her hand half raised to grab the knocker. "Oh." Yui tilted her head. "Good morning, Argo-san."
Removing her hood, Argo the Rat smiled. "And good morning to you, Yui-chan. Off to work with your Mama?"
"Uhuh," Yui nodded seriously and then added in a whisper. "But it's more like Mama's off to work with me."
"Bring your mother to work day, huh?" Argo shared in Yui's meaningful nod.
"Argo?" Asuna gave their friend a questioning look.
"I came by with a business proposition for Kii-bou," the Rat said with a mischievous smile. "I might need to borrow him for a job if that's okay."
Kirito was sure that Asuna was about to start asking questions when Yui tugged on her mother's wrist again. "Kirito-kun can tell me about it later," Asuna decided reluctantly. "Just bring him back in one piece."
"No promises," Argo teased. They waved as Asuna and Yui set out, mother and daughter making their way down the street in the leisurely morning traffic. Almost as soon as they were out of sight, Argo dropped the cheerful
act.
"That bad?"
"The understatement of the friggin' century." Argo waited for Kirito to close the door and check that Suguha was safely out of the house. "There's been a murder." She gave the words time to sink in. It felt like minutes passed
in silence with only the ticking of the kitchen clock.
Slowly, Kirito leaned back against the wall and placed a hand over his face. He was surprised by how he felt. Not shocked or anxious, he guessed he was sort of resigned. Argo wouldn't be here or acting like she was if it was just an accident or mob attack.
"Who, how, when, and where?" He raised a finger with each question.
"It was Novair, Lady Sakuya's personal assistant. His throat was slashed around midnight, someplace between the Governor's Mansion and his apartment. Then his body was dumped outside the city limits." Argo's ears
twitched dejectedly.
"Mortimer already has a couple of watchmen going over the usual suspects. Alicia wants me to work my own investigation in parallel. If the Faerie Lords don't get the lid on this fast we could be looking at a full blown panic.
Remember how bad it got back in Aincrad when it looked like someone had found a way to bypass the Safe Zones?"
Kirito nodded slowly. It was easy to forget, but their safety in Tristain was tenuous, and maybe not entirely real. "You didn't want to mention this in front of Asuna."
"Not yet. She'll find out soon anyway." Argo looked anxious. "Aa-chan needs a lot more rest. I don't think we should involve her."
Kirito had already made up his mind. "Let me get dressed."
Located in the middle of Tristania, the capital of Tristain, it was not an exaggeration to say that the merchant's quarter was the beating heart of Tristain's commerce. Merchants traveled miles to make deals which could make or break entire trading houses. Every good or service imaginable was available either along the main streets or in anonymous back alleys.
It was along one of these side paths, less frequented than most, that a small shop had been established. Barely more than an alcove, its smallness belied the impossibly rare and exotic goods that found their way onto its shelves.
The proprietor was a peculiar creature almost worth visiting the shop to see alone. Dark skinned and dark eyed, with a strangely wide nose and white, white teeth. It had been accepted that he was a former trader, a native of distant Rub' al Khali.
It was as this peculiar man was examining an item from his latest shipment, a meticulously oiled and maintained apparatus, that the bell at his shop door chimed. Sighing to himself, he returned the dark metallic object to the embrace of its box. Another curiosity for another time.
"Welcome," the old merchant said. "How may I be of service today . . . Miss . . ."
Well, it wasn't very often that his shop was frequented by a such a petite Mademoiselle. Yes, petite, pink haired, large brown eyes. He wouldn't have placed her age at much past twelve or thirteen. A child really had no business here.
"Mayhaps you have the wrong place? Are you lost, Mademoiselle?"
"We're looking for something."
The voice had rung out as clear as a bell, soft, firm, commanding, but the girl's lips had not moved. He looked up at the hat atop her head, a hat that turned out to not be a hat at all, but rather something black and feathered
watching him with malevolent yellow eyes.
"Something in particular."
Just a little further up, the shop owner came face to face with another girl who, save for size, would have seemed the elder of the two. She would have fit in the palm of his hand!
Two pairs of wings jutted from her back, arranged like a dragonfly's, flexing and folding themselves faintly. Suddenly the wings spread wide and carried her in a glide down to the tabletop.
"We're looking for more people like me," she said, gesturing to herself.
"Have you tried a doll shop?" the merchant wondered aloud.
"We heard from another merchant that you introduced a customer to him who was interested in collecting reagents and potions from the Faerie World." The pink haired child spoke for the first time. Not like a child at all.
"That customer bought six pixies who were illegally poached from the estates of the Count of Tarbes."
The merchant leaned back in his chair. "Poached you say? That is a serious claim, Mademoiselle." Just who the blazes was this girl? "My business depends on my discretion." Some of his wares would certainly raise questions if their buyers were known.
The pink haired girl reached into her handbag and retrieved a letter. He began to read, frowned, and then blanched as much as his dark skin would let him. "As you can see, this is an official investigation," the girl said.
"Cooperate with us and you will be absolved of any wrongdoing."
"Please go on." The merchant played for time. "Do you have a description of this man?"
The tiny girl, some sort of Fae he realized, tilted her head warily. "You get a lot of clients asking around for pixies, huh?"
"Not at all," he admitted. "But more than you'd think." He raised a hand. "You Fae have been the talk of the city, plenty of customers have inquired about the lands of ALfheim. So yes, I have received more than a few inquiries. Naturally I sent them on to an associate of mine."
"This associate is named Georges?" the pink haired girl breathed.
He nodded. "So you've met with him? That is really all I can tell you, unless you've a description of the man you're looking for."
"A description?" the pixie pacing about on his table asked. She crossed her arms. "Georges-san said he was . . ."
"A fat nobleman," the pink haired girl finished.
The merchant sighed slightly. "Mademoiselle, I'm afraid you might need to be more specific."
"This man went out of his way not to stand out," the pink girl insisted.
"Also not uncommon among my clients," the merchant replied. "Look around you Mademoiselle, you see herbs, teas, and spices, yes?"
"I suppose," the girl said, showing every indication that she couldn't identify half of the stock on his shelves.
He smiled. "I make my livelihood from my goods Mademoiselle. Rare reagents from across the Continent and beyond, medicinal herbs, potions, and clever mechanisms from Rub' al Khali. Some of them are innocent luxuries,
others could embarrass my clients if their patronage was known."
"Isn't that dangerous to admit?"
"Not at all!" the merchant replied with a small bow. "It's something of an open secret. The identities of my clients, on the other hand, are not." He shrugged. "But of course, neither are their identities worth imprisonment. I
am quite fond of my comfortable life here. What else can you say about this man?"
"Right." The girl nodded. "He arrived with two taller men in his company, both were armed at all times. I'm not sure, but they were probably commoner soldiers or bodyguards."
"Bodyguards you say? Again, it does little to narrow it down."
"Wait, didn't Georges-san say something else?" The Pixie looked up. "He said . . . he said the man smelled of something very strong, like perfume. Georges said it made him sick."
"Cologne?" And worn badly. The Merchant smiled suddenly, revealing white, white teeth.
"Terrance de'Martou," Louise pronounced carefully. "Well, it's a name, but not one I'm familiar with."
"That's not good enough," Botan said unhappily. "We need to know where to find this de'Martou!"
The Vespid Knight stroked behind the ears of her mount, a slightly scruffy black feathered dragon. Louise reached up to her shoulder and patted Botan's head in turn.
She didn't like it, this whole ordeal left her feeling useless. And if there was one thing that Louise Françoise Le Blanc de la Vallière despised more than anything, it was feeling useless.
Searching these shops had not led them to the lost pixies, but it had given them their next lead. Eventually this had led to an auction house well known for its purchase and sale of exotic animals, and from there the link had been made to several buyers.
Fifteen creatures matching the description of pixies had been brought to the capital to be sold. So far, they had found seven alive and well in the company of various noble families and curio collectors, including most notably a pair who had become the impromptu playmates of the youngest daughter of the Count de Brienne.
Louise grimaced as she remembered the bratty little girl. It was a miracle that the pixies had survived the week in her care. But they had seemed happy when they were finally discovered, and were overjoyed to see a Knight had come for them.
She allowed her thoughts to wander and her pace gradually slowed. A few passing eyes were drawn to the peculiar dragon perched on her shoulder and the miniscule person flitting lightly in her company, but the attention was hardly noticed.
Of course, it would have been nice if there had been a happy ending for everyone, but there wasn't. The trail had run cold at Georges, a merchant dealing in exotic animals. He had apparently been introduced to his client through the merchant named Aamir, but as Louise had just learned, frustratingly, Aamir could only provide a name.
Louise looked up as she stepped into the shadow of a church tower. The sun was beginning to set, her feet were aching, her back was sore, and her shoulder was getting stiff where Schwartz had decided to use her as a roost.
"The shops are going to be closing soon," Louise said. "We should go see if Tabitha and Kirche had more luck."
Botan nodded slowly, "You're right, we can't do much more today. Besides, we need to find out who this 'Terrance' person is . . . I worry for them is all."
Louise nodded slowly. Botan thought of her sisters as her responsibility; for her, this mission had a much more personal stake. "I'm sure they'll be alright. Nobody has been mistreating any of them." The ones they'd found had been given everything but their freedom.
"Un." Botan looked up. "But if what the other little ones have said is right, then none of them were Shamans or Knights. I still remember what that is like." The pixie averted her eyes. "We can be sort of gullible if we don't have an Elder Sister to watch us."
"Even intelligent children can be troublesome," Louise decided.
"That is . . . not quite it . . ." Botan said slowly. "Louise-san, you should understand that the little ones are never on their own. Well, if they don't have an Elder Sister, then they might start to become one."
Oh. Louise blinked quickly. Oh! Like Botan had. "But isn't that a good thing?"
"I don't know," Botan told her simply. "But they shouldn't have to face that alone. Sayuri-sama faced it alone and it . . ."
"Drove her mad?" Louise finished for her.
The small Knight acted as if nothing strange had been said. It had to bother her though, didn't it? After all, she wouldn't have mentioned it if it wasn't on her mind.
"Let's go," Louise said. "I bet the chefs will have more of those baked apples you like so much. You better hope flying burns off a lot of fat, or you're going to look like an apple yourself before too long!"
"H-Hey!" Botan stammered. "That's not fair! Besides, Kigiku-sama would kick my butt if I got that slow and heavy."
"Then you better start exercising more," Louise replied. "Because the Princess will be meeting your sisters for the first time tomorrow. Since we'll have to wait for the Archives to find out who Terrance is and where we can find him, it probably wouldn't hurt for you to go and see them."
"W-What?!" Botan stammered, her calm completely lost. Good, so she could be shaken, that was a lot more reassuring than the thought that she might be crazy. "Why wasn't I told about this?!"
"I mentioned it at breakfast," Louise said, "but someone wanted to hurry out and get an early start."
"You didn't say that at all!" Botan accused.
"Did too," Louise said.
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not! Did not!"
They continued like so all the way down the walk to the Palace.
