Halkegenia Online - v2.1 - Chapter 4
Lieutenant Agnes of her Majesty's Royal Musketeer Squadron was not pleased. Three weeks of work had nearly been undone with nary a thought.
"Well, erm." The girl's shoulders drooped. "Oh."
Yes, 'Oh'. That was too often the problem with nobles; too sheltered, too careless. They didn't look, they didn't listen, most of all, they didn't think. Still, she had allowed herself to expect more from someone the Princess spoke so highly of.
The Vallière daughter's eyes widened as she shouted "You mean, he's a spy?!"
Agnes swiftly pressed a hand against the girl's mouth. Truly, this was a person the Princess trusted?
"Then . . . oh, Founder."
"My Sisters!"
Agnes' hand twitched over her holster at a sudden, forceful voice. At first, she thought an insect or hummingbird had alighted before her eyes. A girl smaller than her hand dressed in a yellow blouse and black skirt hovered before her on dragonfly wings.
"We think Terrance de'Martou purchased several of Botan's Sisters," Louise explained quietly. "We've been asked by the Princess to find them as part of a settlement with the Faeries."
The Princess was quite taken with the Fae. The musketeer did not think it entirely healthy. She noted the Cait who had remained silent. These people were Tristain's new allies.
"I do know the whereabouts of Terrance de'Martou." Agnes said, getting a look of excitement from Louise and Botan. "But I will not arrest him. Not yet. Nor can I allow you to interfere."
"B-but! He's a criminal isn't he? And you call yourself a servant of the Crown?!"
"Louise!" the Cait beside her bit off sharply. Louise cringed as the hands on her shoulders pushed down. "But you do have your reasons, don't you?" The Faerie tilted her head. For a heartbeat, the pupils of her golden eyes seemed to elongate.
Agnes took a breath and patiently explained. "De'Martou is not our only concern. He first came to our attention while investigating the Tax Office."
"Was he cheating on his taxes or something?" the fiery haired foreigner pondered aloud.
Agnes shook her head. "Terrance de'Martou is a tax collector. His duties are to appraise and collect dues. There were consistent errors found when his ledgers were audited." Errors between the reported revenues and the receipts. "In any case, someone more highly placed must be sheltering him for this to have gone on for so long."
"You want his backer," the Faerie woman said. "Oh dear, this is like something out of a crime drama!"
Louise turned. "KoKo? What are you talking about?"
"Agnes-san wants to use de'Martou to find the people who are sheltering him. Is that right?"
"Exactly," Agnes agreed. "We could take de'Martou into custody, however doing so will alert his associates. If they suspect he has been discovered, they will certainly cut all ties with him."
And then it would be only de'Martou's word, won under duress, against high ranking nobility. It would be called slander, an insult to honor, or worse, turned around into an attack on the accusers.
"And so you see why I must warn you off. If anything happens to make the ring leaders suspect an investigation, we will lose this opportunity." It had gone so far as Agnes quietly diverting suspicion from the man, much as it made her skin crawl.
"So, you need evidence against the ring leaders," Louise said. "Once you have that, we can do what we want with de'Martou?"
"I would not interfere," Agnes admitted. "Until then, I must ask for you to give no reason for suspicion." She noticed the pixie, now seated on Louise's shoulder, crossing her arms and looking off to the side.
"My Sisters are suffering every day they're separated from us." Botan lighted down from Louise's shoulder. "I won't let them be alone one instant longer. No more saying that we have to wait!"
There was an almost tangible tension existing between the pink haired girl and her hummingbird sized companion. Agnes broke the stalemate with a single observation. "In all likeliness, they're no longer in de'Martou's possession."
"W-wha-?" Botan looked crushed.
"Aside from his embezzlement of funds, he has been consorting with foreign smugglers. It would not surprise me if he was fattening his purse off the Faerie territories."
"No." Botan fell to her knees. "No, no, no." Louise draped her hands around the pixie and brought her close to her chest.
"This just means that we have to follow the trail from de'Martou," Louise told her companion firmly.
"Before the trail goes cold," a quiet voice whispered. That would be the blue haired girl.
The taller foreigner nodded. "Tabi is right. If de'Martou's already sold off his ill gotten gains, we don't have time for all of this."
"Then we are of like mind," Agnes concluded
"Excuse me?" the Germanian asked.
"I think we can help one another."
Louise's face twisted up. She shook her head. "Of course. Anything! What do you propose?"
Agnes began to explain. The surveillance of Terrance de'Martou had been a tedious thing. Which was why members of the Musketeer Squad had been selected. The Musketeers were the most junior and least recognized branch of the Royal Guards. Their purpose was to provide effective bodyguards for the Queen and Princess who could equally follow at the Queen's side or go unnoticed in a crowd.
These unique qualities singularly suited the Musketeer Squadron to its recent missions. Few expected young women, girls, to be acting at the behest of the Queen. Fewer still expected them to be proficient in the use of force or expert with techniques and mundane arms which could, properly employed, endanger the life of even a mage.
But even so, there were limits to the disguise. There were locations where even they might appear suspicious or out of place, and they were unique enough among the Royal Guards that they might be recognized under scrutiny. What's more, their lack of noble title meant that even on behalf of the Crown, they could not not bear official witness at trial. That might well have just changed.
"Our investigation is currently being hindered. De'Martou may be a brute, but he rarely lowers his guard. Nor do his patrons. They've stubbornly refused to reveal themselves. I believe you may be able to supply certain talents that my soldiers and I lack."
"Magic," the Vallière girl surmised.
"Among other things," Agnes admitted. "There are establishments which de'Martou tends to regularly frequent. He seems to conduct business at these places from time to time, using the crowds as cover. He favors one in particular for sensitive matters. If a high noble were to witness his dealings and perhaps catch his masters incriminating themselves, it should be as good as an admission of guilt."
Of course, there was another reason too. Agnes had intended to set her subordinates to eavesdrop by slipping them into the serving staff, but the eccentric proprietor had infuriatingly rejected them one after another, claiming they 'did not fit the aesthetic' of his inn.
She was woman enough to be incensed.
"It is, I should say, a charming establishment."
"Oy, waiter, can I get mine to go?" Tsuboi Ryotaro, the swordsman Klein, waved a hand from the back of the line. Normally he really liked to take the mornings easy, but he didn't have that luxury today.
Stuffing a piece of egg on toast into his mouth, Klein squeezed past a business of Gnomes setting up shop for the day at one of the market kiosks, and made at a jog towards his first destination. A tall sign depicting a stylized helmet sat outside the shop, marking that it had opened for the day.
The doorbell chimed. A bored looking Imp boy sitting on a stool looked up from his book.
"You're back. Grishim will be with you in just a minute." The boy hopped down from his stool and knocked heavily on the thick wooden door that separated the workshop from the storefront.
"Hey, Grishim. Grishim!" He rolled his eyes as the muted sounds continued. "Hey Dad! We've got a customer here waiting for his order!"
Klein peered past the boy into the back room where a robust looking Gnome manned a small furnace. A sullen, orange-red glow illuminated a faceless mask. Even at this distance Klein could feel the heat.
Removing his mask to reveal a deeply tattooed face, the man frowned. "What'd I say about when we're working?"
"Try to keep your ears open a little more." The boy didn't even pretend to apologize.
Klein had heard that this guy was a bit of a LARPer. Well, it wasn't a bad way to live in this world, if it got you by.
"So, back already," the Gnome noted as he climbed up the steps to the storefront. "You're certainly an impatient one."
"Ah, sorry!" Klein grinned sheepishly. "You were able to fix it, right?" The Gnome chuckled as he brought his arm out from behind his back, his huge hand holding Klein's vambraces. "
Nice, nice!" Klein complimented as he examined the work. "Are you sure these are mine?"
He'd been sure they'd been wrecked beyond repair, victims of a too close run in with the remains of a juvenile Caustic Dragon and a biochemistry that was best described as volatile. He still had the chemical burns to show for it.
"The outside leather was a complete write off; so were the backing plates. So I ripped out the stitching and reused what I could," Grishim explained. "I replaced the guard plates and used new leather for the outside of the left one." He took the left arm guard back from Klein and thumbed the dark brown surface. "That's earth dragon hide from the locals."
Klein grinned as he flexed his wrists. Good as new. Better even. "So, what do I owe you?"
The Gnome settled heavily on his shop stool. "Well, let's see here. I can discount what I was able to reuse. Count the old metal as materials . . ." He trailed off as he did some mental arithmetic. "Let's say seventy-five added to the seventy-five down payment.
"One fifty?" Klein whistled slowly.
It didn't sound like much to Klein, but it was in reality a hefty sum in the new economy. He wasn't the only one who was still getting used to things. Prices were fluctuating daily as people worked out what materials and their labor were worth. Some things got cheaper, while others skyrocketed.
"You know, the rest of my squad is kitted out with ancient level gear. If anything else gets beaten up, I'm pretty sure they'll want a good armorer to do the repairs and replacements."
The Gnome gave him a suspicious look. "I've got plenty of business from the Lancers already," Grishim said with a small wave of his hand.
"I'm with the Skirmishers," Klein offered quickly, seeing his opening. If Grishim was much of a businessman, he'd be happy to expand into an untapped clientele.
"The Skirmisher squads?" Grishim rubbed his chin. "This is pretty high level gear for Skirmishers. Did Mortimer keep you guys for special assignments?"
"Nothing cloak and dagger, if that's what you're thinking." Klein shook his head. "We were all in on the Newcastle Raid."
Grishim's expression changed completely. "Newcastle?" The Gnome rocked back, an action that seemed like it should be followed by an avalanche.
"That's where I got this gear. Honestly, I'd hate to downgrade because of a stupid mistake."
Grishim set his hands back down on the counter. "I'll tell you what. Let's make it fifty. That's one twenty-five total."
Well, now Klein knew how much the Gnome had planned to gouge him. That was a pretty good, no, a really good deal. They shook on it and Klein produced a stack of five fat, bronze coins, his entire allowance for equipment repairs. At least he hadn't had to dig into his own salary.
The Imp swept up the pieces, examining each carefully, before handing them to his son to deposit in the strongbox.
The huge man loomed over Klein. "And by the way, thanks for everything you and your squad have been doing." He looked back at the still open workshop door. "I'm grateful that there are people who volunteered, for Milnik's sake."
Klein gave the man a sympathetic look. "Yeah, I got ya."
Grishim gave him a pat on the back, a sensation like being hit by baseball bat made out of sausage, before seeing Klein out the door. Standing in the street's morning traffic, it was several minutes before Klein actually remembered what he was doing.
He had a couple of letters to mail back to Gaddan, and after that he needed to do some maintenance work on his gear. What a pain.
Setting off across the market square once more, Klein was nearly through when he heard a voice calling above the crowds, "And can I please get that to go?" He turned his head and did a double take. Stepping out of a deli, a Sylph was busily wrapping her breakfast in a handkerchief.
"Ohr? Gud'mrninig Krein," Leafa tried to say. Green eyes blinked with mild surprise. She swallowed. "Uhm, Klein-san?"
Klein shook his head. It was what she was wearing. "New wardrobe?"
"Oh!" Leafa looked down then turned so that he could get a good look.
It wasn't that it was revealing, just the opposite. Sturdy, white cotton pants, white blouse and a long green jacket closed at the waist, rugged looking leather boots, and hair pulled back by a utilitarian cord. With her sword resting on her hip, she didn't look like an anxious kid playing around anymore. Instead, she was a no-nonsense pro in the making.
The Sylph nodded. "I'm heading down to the gate for patrol. We've got the roads all the way west of the Academy today."
"I've got business with one of the professors, mind if I tag along?"
"Well, we're on official business, so I'm not sure if it would be alright. We're not supposed to get distracted." She struck her open palm with a fist. "But since you're with the defense forces, I guess it's allowed."
At least she was taking things seriously. Maybe a little too seriously. She tilted her head. "You know, this wasn't what I expected my first job to be like." She smiled, amused. "But it turns out I'm pretty good at it."
"Oh?" Klein frowned. "The fighting too?"
Some of the Sylph's enthusiasm evaporated. "Well, it's okay against mobs. And against bandits. We usually just spot them and report them to a foot patrol. Mostly it's just making sure things stay quiet. Sometimes we have to give someone an earful for being unreasonable." Leafa sighed and let her shoulders sag. "It's kind of funny, you know?"
"Eh?"
"It feels so normal. Is that right?"
"It seems pretty strange when you put it that way." This was a hell of a time to get philosophical. But what the heck. He heard enough people dispensing the Wisdom of the Ages, he could take a crack at it too. "Normal is just what you expect when you get up in the morning."
"Like waking up in a fantasy land with Faerie wings," Leafa mused.
They ran into a crowd of Faeries just off the grand promenade, gathering around a message board. For the information starved children of the Digital Age, it was like a desert oasis. And gauging by the voices around the message boards, the morning's news wasn't good. Catching a glimpse of the headlines, Klein grimaced.
"Another murder. Double homicide in Freelia."
That was three murders in three days. A brief chill ran down his spine. One murder might have just been an argument getting out of hand, or a crime of passion, but three . . . This wasn't coincidence.
Leafa looked unsurprised. But of course she would be. She probably got briefed every morning as part of the Watch.
"Surprised Asuna hasn't tried to step in." Klein thought out loud. It couldn't be easy, being out of the action, leaving things to the Faerie Lords. It'd be going against all of her instincts.
"Actually, she did." Leafa said.
"Huh?"
"Last night she and Kazuto got into an argument." The Sylph looked uneasy.
"Oh?"
"Well, actually it was more of a . . . fight."
"They got into a fight?"
Not that it was weird. Couples fought. Or so he'd been told. Asuna and Kirito had fought at just about every raid meeting they had both attended. It had broken into duels a couple of times.
"Mortimer-sama isn't the only one who has tried to scout Asuna. I gather Prince Wales has wanted her to join his cause too." Leafa shook her head. "It's like Asuna has been holding herself back until all of this started. And then, last night, when Kazuto tried to talk her down from reconsidering, she sort of . . . let loose."
"It's tough alright." Klein ran a hand across the stubble of his jaw. "Asuna's not the the type to want to stand around. She's always gotta be doing something. And it's usually the hardest thing she can find."
"Maybe," Leafa agreed reluctantly. " She seemed to have cooled off this morning. I guess Nii-chan convinced her to Trust the watch investigators. Anyways, thanks for listening to all this."
"Not a problem," Klein said easily. "If you ever need to let off some steam, don't hold back. It's not good to let it build up, you know?" Leafa tilted her head, giving him an odd look. "What is it?"
Leafa went back to smiling. "I was just thinking, you're a pretty mature guy, Klein."
"Uh, thanks?"
The main gates of Arrun were usually busy in the morning hours. But today the foot traffic was barely more than a trickle. Then they heard the shouting.
Leafa broke into a run before Klein could stop her. Conjuring her wings, she glided over the crowd. Klein was right behind her.
"M-maybe the 'ABC' are right," Klein heard a Leprechaun say as he pushed through the throng of people. The crowd was tightly packed, both horizontally and vertically, with Faeries fighting to get a view of the disturbance.
"She's violated Sir Wetherby's hospitality, Kruznev. It's only right that she make amends." A portly trader tugged at his mustache. Somehow, the man didn't seem convinced.
A Leprechaun beside the nobleman looked displeased. "Come on Hiram, we both know this is bogus!"
"Can't the Watch do something?" an Undine girl wrung her hands nervously.
Her partner, or maybe her boyfriend, a taller, silver haired Undine pointed, "Look, they're trying. Those nobles are just being difficult."
"Rio said something like this was going to happen," another Faerie, a Salamander, grunted. "This is that flighty Sylph's fault."
Everyone's attention was on the heated argument between an agitated nobleman and a wiry Undine backed by two bigger Caits. Sitting between the two parties, hands on knees, a frightened Gnome woman was trying not to cry. Leafa took one look at the situation and charged right in. It must have run in the family.
"What is the meaning of this!" the swordswoman demanded in a loud, firm voice.
"Ah, Leafa-san!" The Undine spun around.
"Irmin," Leafa greeted shortly. "Tell me what's happening."
"Well, erm, that is, I . . ." the watchman shrugged weakly, "it seems we have a bit of a crime on our hands."
Leafa glanced at the nobles out of the corner of her eye. "What did they take?"
The Undine raised his hands helplessly. "Not them, this one here." He gestured to the Gnome.
"Yes her," the man at the lead of the Tristanian group declared loudly. Tall, snobbish, axe-nosed, and determined to make his point. "She was given shelter at our master's home over the night, and then Sir Wetherby's generosity was most heinously exploited when she stole from the good Chevalier. We managed to catch her only just now, before she could vanish into the city."
"Irmin," Leafa asked calmly, "did you find anything?"
"Well . . ." Irmin grimaced. "We checked her pack when she was stopped. She did have these." He gestured to a pair of silver candlestick holders and a stack of silver plates, all polished to a mirror finish.
"Those are heirlooms of Sir Wetherby's family," the lead retainer added sternly. "This cretin stole them."
The Gnome woman mumbled something so softly that it almost would have gone unnoticed if not for Leafa's acute hearing.
"What was that?" she asked, kneeling down beside the Gnome; and then, more gently, "Please tell me, it must be important, right?"
The woman bit her lip. She looked almost too frightened to speak. "I didn't steal anything," she mumbled. "He said to take them."
The lead retainer snorted derisively. "Sir Wetherby is a man of means, but I'd hardly think he would hand over ten pound of silver to a complete stranger." The others nodded in stern agreement. "Now then, do we have the cooperation of the Watch? The evidence is clear as day."
"Hey now . . ." Klein began, maybe it was his overdeveloped sense of chivalry, but it didn't really seem like the woman was being allowed to tell her side of the story. A glare from Leafa silenced him.
"So then. What does Sir Wetherby plan to do?" Leafa asked, one hand gently patting the Gnome on the back as she started to quietly cry.
"In matters of theft, some form of punishment for the accused and compensation for the wronged party is forthcoming. Normally, a thief could expect her hands to be broken for a first offense." The Gnome whimpered softly. "But Sir Wetherby has decided that such measures are too extreme," the retainer continued. "He wishes for the thief to work off the value of the stolen items as a servant. That is an acceptable punishment, wouldn't you say?"
"I told him I didn't want to work for him," the Gnome mumbled quietly.
"It's going to be okay," Leafa soothed before rising back to her full height. "I'm sorry, but this is too much for the Watch to decide. It should be alright if we ask for a Council ruling, correct?" The retainer had the gall to smile. It made his face so much more punchable.
"Be careful with those. They're quite valuable. Nearly pure silver and superb workmanship." The retainer sounded irritated as Irmin carefully handled the stolen heirlooms.
Maybe the Undine was a little careless, or maybe his palms were sweaty. Maybe people just messed up more when they were handling something expensive. He fumbled the candlesticks, bringing them together with a dull metallic -thud-.
"You bumbling fool!" the retainer's voice clamoured as he grabbed hold of Irmin by the collar.
That was when something interesting happened.
Ignoring her partner, Leafa grabbed the candlesticks from his hands. She stood back up, examining them closely, and then clinked them together again close to her ear. The first retainer had let go of Irmin's collar by now. He wasn't smiling.
"That's odd." Leafa frowned noticeably as she examined the silverware more closely. The Sylph lowered her voice. "This doesn't sound like silver at all."
"What? Are you sure?" Irmin leaned in, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.
"The watch handles silver coins all the time when we do transport for the guilds, and the Captain taught us to look out for counterfeits, so I know the sound. They make a really beautiful ringing when they're struck together." Her green eyes glinted dangerously. "You know, it sounds a lot like a five hundred yen coin."
"Oy, aren't those made from nickel?" Klein grunted.
"Copper and nickel . . . like costume jewelry," Leafa agreed. Klein and Irmin traded looks.
Thin Undine watchman's features turned thin and unamused as he was bolstered by a sudden authority. "I do believe this calls things into question. Perhaps Sir Wetherby was mistaken about his family heirlooms?"
"Well, that is . . ." The retainer took a step back, his lips moving clumsily. "Perhaps they were switched," he offered, his confidence and indignation draining away.
"Uhuh," Leafa said, unconvinced. "So, I think what might be best is that we hold on to these, and then Lady Sakuya can have a good laugh with Princess Henrietta about how one of her knights mistook fake silver candlesticks for the real thing."
"The Princess?" the retainer whispered in a muted tone.
"I hear she and Lady Sakuya are good friends." Klein crossed his arms wisely. "I bet they're looking for something to talk about over tea."
"With biscuits," Irmin said.
"And cake," Leafa added. "I bet it'll be a good long talk."
"Because obviously Sir Wetherby must have just made a simple mistake," Irmin observed diplomatically.
"Yeah, a complete mistake," Klein agreed. "I mean, anyone could make it, they look a whole lot like silver to me." They just weren't. Klein felt a burning desire to deliver some old style justice.
"I suppose we may have acted hastily," the retainer, still pale-faced, changed tact. He spoke up more loudly, so that the Gnome woman and the crowd could hear. "Miss, please forgive our mistake. It appears that I was overzealous on my master's behalf. I beg pardon for our indiscretion, and if there is anything we can do to make it right," the man removed his hat, bowing deeply, "we will of course do so."
"Leave." Leafa instructed, voice flat. Her hand was resting on the hilt of her sword. She looked like she'd have no trouble using it.
Turning with as much dignity as a group of retreating cowards could muster, they remounted their horses and rode off.
Leafa held her glare until they vanished in their own dust. Once she was sure they wouldn't turn back, she sank to her knees.
"Oy, Leafa?"
"I'm alright. Just give me a second."
"You did good." Klein patted her on the back. She looked like she'd gone a day facing down his old grouch of a boss.
"Your friend is right," Irmin added. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to handle that on my own. I guess my NEET tendencies came out, huh senpai?"
"Please don't call me that." Leafa begged.
The crowd was beginning to slowly disperse, people commenting about what they had just seen. Thankfully nobody but the watchmen and Klein had been close enough to hear most of the exchange. The last thing they needed was an incensed mob.
"Excuse me, Miss." Klein turned around, noticing the fat Tristanian from earlier leaning over the still sobbing Gnome woman. A handkerchief was held in one hand. "I'm sorry for not speaking out sooner. I hope you're alright."
"Moving in now that the coast is clear, Hiram? Real brave," the small, hawkish, blue-haired Leprechaun who had been speaking with him sniped.
"It's good for business, Kruznev. I've no interest in helping along bad relations with your people." The trader grunted in a manner that caused his whole stomach to jiggle.
The Gnome's sobbing suddenly stopped, replaced by giggling that left both men at a loss. Wiping a tear from her eye, she looked up at them with a mirthful smile. "I'm sorry, you just looked really . . . really funny when you did that."
The nobleman opened his mouth, face aghast, before stuffing the handkerchief into her hand, grumbling indignantly to himself.
"Are you going to be alright, Miss?" Klein asked as he crouched down beside her.
Klein got a good look at her for the first time. Short, light blonde hair, big aqua eyes, and warm, earthen skin. Like most Gnome women she was more pretty than beautiful, with a generous figure and equally generous stature. Klein guessed she would have been half a head taller than him if she'd been standing.
"Un," the woman nodded. "We were flying back from Tau Tona, and . . . and it got dark. I used to fly at night a lot, so I thought it would be okay if I went ahead. But it was cloudy, and I got lost. Then I found Wetherby-san's house and he gave me directions, but now I don't think he was really trying to help me." She pulled her knees up close to herself. "Irene-sensei is going to be really angry with me for leaving without permission."
'Permission?'
Klein felt himself going cold as he started to put the pieces together. "Miss, uhm . . . The name's Klein," Klein offered kindly. "Do you mind telling me yours?"
She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her borrowed handkerchief. "Rika. My name's Rika."
"That's a pretty name, Rika-chan," Leafa said as she crouched down beside Klein. "And I'm Leafa. Ah, Rika-chan, if it's okay for me to ask, how old are you?"
Rika looked away, squirming as she mulled over her reply. "I'm ten . . . Almost . . . Next month."
Leafa placed a comforting hand on Rika's shoulder. "Hey, now, you said you were with other people, right? Do you have family, or someone you're staying with?"
The child in the body of a woman nodded slowly. "I live at Arrun Home. I know the way from here."
"Irmin, can you handle the patrol? I'm going to make sure she makes it back okay." She lowered her voice, "Then I'm going to go lodge a report. I'll catch you later, Klein."
Klein reached up to rub tiredly at his face. It was barely nine o'clock and the day had already killed his good mood.
Seeing Freelia for the first time, Kirito wished his first visit to the Cait Syth capital could have been under happier circumstances.
He looked over to where Argo stood, patiently eating raisins while both waited for their flight magic to recharge. Neither of them were in any mood to get wet.
When the environments of ALfheim had been realized within the Kingdom's borders, at first the blending of land had appeared random. But as the changed countryside had been explored, a set of priorities that determined what had been overwritten by the Transition and what had been left untouched had become apparent.
Argo had spent some time deciphering the underlying rules of the Transition, labeling the results of her research the Tentative Guidelines of Ontological Actualization: Don't Worry, It's Argo's Metaphysical Theory.
First. No feature of ALfheim had displaced an existing settlement. This rule also extended to a lesser extent to other areas of active human cultivation.
Second. wherever possible, the features of ALfheim that had carried over from the game world had appeared at the same points in relation to one another as they had existed within ALfheim's virtual geography.
Third. All former Safe Zones and Player Spawn Points, along with most of ALfheim's underground dungeons and floating islands, had materialized without incident. Around half of the surface dungeons had also materialized, either in whole or in part.
Important portions of each of ALfheim's major playing fields, each with their own flora, fauna, and geographical features, had mixed evenly with the Tristain's countryside, resulting a bizarre patchwork of the two worlds.
There were a number of other guidelines based on factors such as Quest Significance and number of Features within proximity, but in Argo's own words, these three rules were the only ones she would put her seal of quality on.
Kirito thought about all of this as he breathed in the ocean air, while looking out across the beaches of Tristain's western border to an island sitting just off the coast.
Freelia was unique among the settlements that the Faeries had brought with them. It was the only Faerie city to have not impinged directly upon the Kingdom of Tristain, instead appearing about a kilometer off the coast.
The Isle of Freelia was a little over six kilometers long and two and a half kilometers wide at its broadest point, roughly evenly divided between beach, fields, hills, and city.
Tall sandstone walls ringed the city, dividing it into three concentric districts. From this distance, Freelia resembled a very wide, three level wedding cake built atop a hill on the seaward end of the island, and topped by its keep-like Tower.
"Before you ask. Yeah, I know," Argo muttered. "It's Minas Tirith."
"Minas what?" Kirito squinted.
"Peter Jackson? Ian McKellen?" The Cait nudged, "You shall not pass!'"
"You mean those old movies?" Kirito wondered. He'd picked up enough popular fantasy second hand.
"Why do I even bother?" Argo fell silent, nose twitching furiously. "RECT was a little completely creatively bankrupt. Okay, that should be long enough." Argo hopped down from her perch, four translucent yellow wings curving from her back. She gave the phantom muscles and tissue a good stretch. "Let's get going."
The short hop across the water took less than a minute. As they flew, Kirito noticed and pointed out activity along the coast of Tristain.
"Yeah, those are some of the mages hired by Freelia and the local noble peers," Argo said.
"What's that they're building?" Kirito asked, squinting. "A bridge?"
"The water only gets around three to six meters deep here, so earth mages are being used to shape foundations and supports. When they're done, we'll have a bridge as wide as the local highway connecting Freelia to the mainland."
The open fields and light forests of the island's eastern side rolled by beneath them, a few small mobs running from their passing shadows. Soon, the tall grass gave way to the sand and straw of stables along the perimeter of the city, and then to the tiled roofs and stone paved roads of the city districts.
Kirito spotted plenty of activity on their approach, especially along the tops of the walls. More construction, and what looked like cannons. "New defensive works. In case Albion decides to get frisky." Argo didn't look happy at seeing the ugly new battlements hastily added to the top of Freelia's graceful walls.
"Where did they get all of that artillery?" Kirito pondered.
Argo's sour expression changed to an evil smile. "Twas a most generous gift from Lord Cromwell of Albion." Kirito remembered the cannons taken from York. "Most generous," Argo repeated innocently.
They climbed the final hundred meters to the top of Freelia Tower, setting down on the broad landing where a pounce of Cait Syth were already waiting for them. "Argo-san!" A scholarly Cait hurried forward, leaning on a staff as he went.
"Alden." Argo shared a forearm shake with one of her own. "We came as fast as we could, sa! Kii-bou, this is Alden-san. I guess it's best to think of him as the Mayor of Freelia in Alicia's absence sa. Alden, the Spriggan with no fashion sense is Kirito."
"Kirito-san?" Alden looked relieved. "I suppose you'll better suited for this than most. We really are grateful you arrived so quickly."
Kirito was on alert the moment they entered the lobby. They were being watched. Dozens of cat-slit eyes turned to follow them to the elevators where Alden ushered them inside.
The 'Mayor' of Freelia sagged visibly as the lobby rose out of sight through the glass doors, pulling the small, silver-rune etched mage's cap from his head to show lightly spotted wheat blond ears atop messy brown hair.
"That bad, huh?" Argo wondered.
"When people heard about Arrun they got nervous. Then it happened here, and it got worse!" He raised his hands helplessly. "What am I supposed to do? The City Watch is being run ragged. People are expecting me to solve this in Alicia-sama's absence." The man looked down, ears sinking, defeated.
"You can't beat yourself up," Argo breathed softly. "Your people are depending on you."
The elevator came to a stop. They were led down a curving hallway, the foot traffic trickling down to nothing. Alden rapped his knuckles gently against a door, and waited as it was unlocked from the inside. Kirito stepped into the room and then nearly leaped back as he came face to face with the stuff of nightmares.
At first, it appeared to be a small Terrorantula that had consumed the head of a young Cait Syth and taken control of the body. That alone would have suited it to the horror themed levels of Aincrad's sixty-sixth and sixty-seventh floors.
"Creewww?" The large, forward pair of eyes looked up at Kirito like binocular lenses, furred feeding mandibles rubbing against each other curiously.
"It's okay Lamar, they're supposed to be here." A pair of gray cat's eyes looked out at Kirito from beneath the curtain of the arachnid's delicately folded legs.
As if used to this sort of spectacle, the Cait Syth boy reached into a pouch on his belt and stuffed a handful of nuts into his mouth, regarding Kirito and Argo quietly as he chewed. Small and deeply tanned, silver-gray hair frizzing up around his head before being drawn into a short ponytail.
"A beast tamer?" He looked over to Argo. "You don't look surprised. Shouldn't this count as 'necessary Information'?"
"I'd have to be prescient to know he'd be here."
"Or just very, very, twisted," Kirito said.
He could say with confidence that Argo had never led anyone knowingly into danger. But he couldn't say that the Rat hadn't played a few dirty tricks in her time.
"More introductions," Argo said with some of her old energy. "This is Raz, one of the Cait Syth's top beast tamers."
"Un. Nice to meet you," Raz said quietly, reaching out to take Kirito's hand. The spider on his head replicated the motion with one of its forelegs, big black forward eyes looking up puppy dog-like at Kirito. "Don't worry," Raz said. "Lamar isn't venomous. The worst she could do is give you some nasty bites."
"Raz is the person who first figured out the secret to ALO's dragon taming for the Cait Syth," Argo added matter of factly.
"They're ravenous, like sharks." Raz explained. "Gotta feed'm until they're sated or taming won't work . . . So this is everyone?" Raz asked, eyes tracking from Kirito to Argo.
"For now," Alden said. "Three more will be coming along later, including an examiner."
"Come this way. And don't touch anything." The boy gestured to a second door on the far side of the room. "I'll wait out here, Lamar doesn't like the cold."
The improvised morgue was as cramped as the one in the basement of Arrun Tower. The floor space was dominated by two tables, two bodies covered in white sheets.
"If it helps, the doctors have already conducted autopsies." Alden gestured to a smaller table covered in tools and notes. "They'll be here by time the rest of your party arrives."
The first sheet was pulled back, revealing the body of a young Sylph woman. Short cropped moss hair feathered lightly around her head. Kirito felt the bile rising at the back of his throat.
Argo nodded with a lot more fortitude than Kirito. "Sakuya-san sent me her info last night. Her name is Liliana. She was the Patrol Leader responsible for maintaining the watch between Freelia and the Sylph Capital."
"And the other one?"
Argo turned and drew back the second sheet to reveal a tall, well built man with short ginger hair. His throat had been slashed in the same grotesque fashion.
"Tobi. A Cait Syth Dragoon." She squinted. "They were found on the beach, right?" Argo observed as she watched Alden work. "What were they doing there?"
"Liliana and her squad were stationed here as part of their patrols." Alden shifted uncomfortably. "Tobi was our liaison with the Army. He was helping to direct the construction of the reinforced ramparts."
"So Liliana would have worked directly under you and Tobi," Argo concluded. "If you don't mind me asking, they were last seen together. And they were found together. Were Tobi and Liliana close?"
"They had a professional relationship of sorts." Alden looked towards the ceiling. "I believe they would usually eat dinner together while discussing business."
"What about their possessions? They had to be armed if they were outside the city walls."
"We found Liliana's staff, but Tobi's sword was missing from its scabbard."
"They tried to defend themselves." Kirito felt his palms itching. His hand covered his wrist. "But whoever did this never gave them the chance."
Kirito felt Argo's eyes on him. When it came to things like this she probably knew him better than Asuna. "You're thinking about it. Aren't you."
"We can't rule out the possibility."
Kirito couldn't deny he still felt an affinity for the world imagined by Kayaba Akihiko. Who was to say less wholesome people wouldn't have felt the same way, and followed them to this world?
"Laughing Coffin was sadistic, but they wanted to take others with them." Argo sounded anxious to prove him wrong. "Taking on two skilled fighters at once isn't something they would want to risk."
"It wouldn't have had to be two on one." Kirito licked his suddenly dry lips. "And they could have disabled their victims first. They'd have had as much time as they'd need then."
"That may be," Argo admitted. "You probably know more about those people than almost anyone else alive. Do you really think Laughing Coffin could restrain themselves for this long?"
"It doesn't have to be them. Just someone like them." He clenched and unclenched his fists.
"Lady Sakuya's head secretary. A Sylph officer. And a senior Cait Syth Dragoon. Is our murderer picking subordinates of the Faerie Lords?"
"It would be more survivable than going after the Lords themselves," Kirito agreed. "If they can't reach the leaders they'll go after the vassals."
"Right. Usually under-appreciated, and a lot less heavily guarded," Argo hissed, tail beginning to twist beneath her cloak. She turned back to Alden. "You need to get a warning out to anyone involved in running the city. Also, let us know when Abigail gets here. We need to go talk to Liliana's squad and the witnesses before the dynamic duo gets to them."
Alden nodded sagely. "I'll double the guard detail and declare a curfew for the time being."
Kirito kept pace easily beside the information broker as they headed back to the elevators.
"What tis it?" Argo asked impatiently. "You can't hide it. You always get that stupid look on your face when you want to ask something, Kii-bou."
"Aren't you being a little harsh? They're just doing their job."
Argo waited until they hit the elevators before answering, rolling her eyes in disgust. "Those two? They're useless. Worse! They're getting in my way!" Argo's voice rose just shy of a shout and then dropped like a stone. "I . . ." she stopped and took a breath, and waited for the elevator to start.
"You know, SAO, games in general, they're all just numbers. The strength isn't real," the Cait began slowly. "Well, you know that. But the people are real, even when the world tis not. And so is the quality of their character. I found Aa-chan, I found where she was. But when I gave it to the SAO investigation unit," her hands balled into fists, knuckles turning white, "they just tossed it away, because I'm just the kid, and they're the adults, and anything I have to say tisn't worth hearing unless they decide it tis!"
Kirito watched as Argo's breathing slowed. It had been hard to explain SAO even to people who wanted to understand. It was even harder when they didn't. People who wanted to 'help' by completely isolating the SAO survivors, quarantine them for how their experience had changed them, compartmentalize and treat the whole incident as a single traumatic event.
How could Argo have felt, to see her hard work thrown aside by people who just wanted to treat her like a victim?
"Jeez," Kirito whispered. "That's really lousy information. You better not sell it." He reached out, placing a hand firmly atop the Cait's head and pulling her hood down. "Or did you forget? That information meant a whole lot to me."
The elevator bell chimed once, announcing the arrival of the counterweight driven booth. Suddenly, Argo snickered. "So, that tis that the way Kii-bou sees it, even now, nya? In any case, it seems someone thinks tis cute to kill the people protecting us. Well, we can't have that."
