Halkegenia Online - v2.1 - Chapter 5

Louise looked up at the building's façade and then back down at the small scrap of paper on which had been written the name of the establishment.

The street was decidedly more shabby than the broad promenades surrounding the palace and estate districts, but still much superior to the crowded, overbuilt and filthy alleys of the Quarter de Villains. The building was likewise of common construction but well maintained, three floors tall with proper glass windows and a thatch roof that had seen recent repairs. Flower boxes lined the windowsills with mid-spring blossoms.

A small sign hanging over the door gave the establishment's name in large lettering.

Louise glanced to the hooded figure beside her, the one trying to keep her tail hidden beneath her cloak. Was it really wise for KoKo to come with her? A Faerie could draw the wrong sort of attention. But KoKo was simply here for 'Moral Support', to remind Louise that she would be nearby once her vigil commenced.

Louise looked down at her own clothes. Commoner's wear, though very good commoner's wear. If someone were to look closely, they might think her the daughter of a clerk wearing her best. At least, that was what she hoped.

"The proprietor runs a tavern on the first floor, a very popular establishment," Agnes summarized the place briefly. "de'Martou frequents this place, among others, once or twice a week, usually with an associate."

"Among others?" KoKo asked.

The musketeer shrugged her shoulders. "The others have been placed under observation as well. De'Martou favors this place, and its reputation has made it difficult for us to observe. This is not a place that many men would want their wives to know about." Agnes gave Louise an odd look. "So the proprietor has paid to have the premises kept well warded."

"Wait!" Louise said suddenly. "Don't want their wives to know?" All of her time around Zerbst was starting rub off. "Y-you mean this place is a brothel!"

The musketeer placed a hand over Louise's mouth. "Are you trying to get us noticed?!" Agnes hissed under her breath. "This is simply a tavern. Young commoner girls serve the clientele as if they were personal servants."

"So it's a Maid Cafe!" KoKo chirped, lips pressed thin as she smiled with worry.

"A what?" Louise peeled Agnes' hand from her lips.

"Cute girls dress up in frilly outfits and call the customers 'Master' and things like that." KoKo tilted her head. "It's kind of weird I guess. But I don't think it's exactly bad."

"We've been trying to get someone trustworthy on to the staff to keep tabs on de'Martou. A noblewoman would be better still. You can testify directly to anything you bear witness. That is, if you think you're up to the task . . ."

Louise glared daggers at the musketeer. "Let's just get this over with."

The inside of the establishment was as well cared for as its exterior, with polished dark wood floors and tables and chairs neatly arranged. And then there were the girls. Louise felt her eye twitch.

"Good afternoon, Mademoiselles!" a half-dozen young women sang in perfect unison.

It wasn't them being young that Louise found odd, many commoner girls worked some sort of job. Nor was it strange that they were all female; the running of inns was one of the tasks that commoner women usually gravitated to. No, it was their dress.

"Is that really what commoners think maids wear?" Louise whispered to herself. Frilly, short cut, and risque in a way that would have done Kirche proud. Which was how Louise knew it wasn't decent. She began to reconsider.

"Ah, well," KoKo murmured quietly. "I think it's more what they wish maids wore."

Louise felt a well honed surge of contempt bubbling up. Was it any surprise that a criminal would be just such a deviant?

"Excuse me," Agnes announced them loudly, "we're here to speak to Monsieur Scarron?"

A dark haired and very generously, well . . . Louise shook her head, a very generous girl, overall, in a certain wholesome way, stepped forward as spokeswoman. "Mademoiselle has stepped out for a moment. But if you would like to wait . . ."

They were swiftly seated at a table near the door, giving Louise an opportunity to watch the girls at work. Polite, cheerful, and energetic. The cleaning was meticulous, but overall, it didn't look too difficult. She could do this. It would be easy!

"Welcome back mi Mademoiselle!" the collected voices of the waitresses sang.

"It is good to be back my girls!" came a loud and oddly pitched voice.

Louise looked up, and then she stared, she didn't stop staring until Agnes elbowed her in the ribs. "Is he . . ."

"Quiet," Agnes grunted.

The man, at least, Louise thought he was a man, she really hoped it was a man, was huge and heavily muscled. Such men were usually farmers or coarse foot soldiers. This man was neither.

Middle-aged with an impressive cleft chin and well-tended mustache, something about the color and gloss of his lips made Louise's mind rebel, and . . . was that eye liner?

His clothes were no better. A generously cut shirt dyed deep purple and worn open to display a broad, hair covered chest, and black trousers that seemed to have been cut for a man of ever so slightly smaller proportions.

No one feature was all that strange, but the effect taken together was truly bizarre.

The Inn Master smiled as he greeted his staff, inspecting the girls with a thoughtful eye. "Beautiful, beautiful my darlings!" he spoke warmly. "Living up to our Inn's promises."

"Yes mi Mademoiselle!" the girls said collectively.

"Did things go well mi Mademoiselle?" one of the girls asked.

The man's smile faltered. "Oh, my girls! As you know, our sales have been declining this last while. And now we know the source!"

"Tell us Mademoiselle!" the girls shouted as one.

Louise winced. It was like watching a particularly badly acted play.

"It is that new shop, the Café! They have some dealings with a merchant who has ensured them shipments of fine tea from the East." The proprietor reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief, making a spectacle of holding it over his eyes.

"Don't cry Mademoiselle, this will pass soon enough." Another girl patted her employer on the shoulder. "We won't be beaten by some tea leaves!"

"Yes! That is exactly right!" The man spread his arms wide. "If we allowed ourselves to lose to this 'Tea', all of the Charming Faeries of the world would cry! That is why we must continue with our Charming Inn's promises."

"Yes mi Mademoiselle!"

"The Charming Faeries' promise! Un~~"

"Serve with a cheerful smile!" The girls all demonstrated as one.

"The Charming Faeries' promise! Deux~~"

"A clean and sparkling store interior!" Two of the girls lifted mops while the others gestured to their surroundings.

"The Charming Faeries' promise! Trois~~"

"Receive lots of tips!" the girls all said eagerly, smiles growing even wider.

"Tres bien!" their employer cried. "Now then girls, run along! We must be ready to show this 'Café' what is needed to make it here in the Capital!"

"Yes mi Mademoiselle." As the girls dispersed, the brunette who had seated them earlier stepped up to the proprietor, speaking softly into one ear, she pointed to Agnes, KoKo, and Louise.

Louise grit her teeth. Now that she'd actually seen the shop's owner, she was beginning to question the wisdom of this. Yes, provocative clothing, tiptoeing about; this would be perfect work for a Zerbst!

"Good afternoon Mademoiselles." The proprietor's lips pursed and an eyebrow rose expectantly. Louise heard a nasally -snerk- emerge from beneath KoKo's hood. "I am this Inn's manager. How can I be of service?"

Agnes planted a hand firmly on Louise's back and pushed. "My name is Trisha and this is my younger sister Louise. Father has just sent her from the countryside to get her away from the dangers of the Faerie Lands and I am beside myself with what to do with her."

"Ah, how terrible! My condolences mi petite Mademoiselle." The man sounded most sincere as he offered a little half bow. "Times are hard everywhere."

Agnes wore a distressed expression. "I've been blessed with steady work, but I cannot support us both. My sister must find work. I would beg to know if you have any need of another girl."

Louise was appraised by bright eyes, then Scarron looked back to Agnes. "And does the petite Mademoiselle have any experience?"

"She's been quite frail you see." Agnes diverted the question. "But she's a quick learner, I promise, and eager to work."

"I see." Scarron turned to one of his girls. "Jessica, what would you think?"

"Me?" The buxom girl raised a hand thoughtfully to her chin. "I'd say that she has a certain appeal. But no experience? She doesn't look like she's worked a hard day in her life." She waved a hand from side to side knowingly. "Will she be able to keep up?"

"She is in dire straights," Scarron pouted. "And Priscilla did go off and get married on us. To see such a petite Faerie in need, does it not make your heart cry, Jessica?!"

"Some of Cassandra's old outfits would work with her figure," Jessica observed. "We'd have to draw them in a bit. Especially around the bust."

Louise began to grind her teeth. 'Remain calm, remain composed, do not allow your temper to rise.'

"Ah pardon . . . Madamoiselle . . . but are you perhaps a friend of these two?" Scarron had taken notice of KoKo.

"Moi?" The Faerie pulled her hood a little lower. "I met Louise and her sister a while ago. Nyeh-heh."

Scarron was staring hard, right through KoKo.

"Mademoiselle?" Jessica looked worried, waving a hand in front of the store manager's face. "Err . . . Father?"

Scarron said something in a tiny, squeaking voice.

"What was that?" Jessica leaned closer.

"Tail."

"Neh?" KoKo's tail had decided to show itself when she'd stood up, betraying her as it curled innocently beneath her cloak. "Oh. It can do that sometimes. Nyah."

"Neh . . ? Nyah . . ?" Scarron parroted. He looked down at the hand he still held and quickly splayed KoKo's fingers wide, examining the unusually sharp, hard nails.

"Ah Mademoiselle. If it would not be too much trouble . . ." Scarron said, half apologetically. "Could you perhaps, your cloak that is . . ."

The girls all gasped as they got their first good look at KoKo.

"A Faerie!" Jessica breathed.

The other girls started to murmur, curious, excited. Scarron raised a hand, silencing the chatter. "Mademoiselle? I would hate to seem so forward. But would you happen to be looking for work?" Scarron took her hand once more, squeezing fiercely. "Please, if you would be so kind, Mademoiselle. If you might entertain the possibility of seeking employment in my Inn?"

"What?!" The table banged. Agnes stood hunched over, breathing heavily. "That is to say, I'm certain that KoKo has someplace else she needs to be. The Faeries have their own means of employment. In their settlements. Far away from here." If they wanted to keep de'Martou unaware of their presence, they needed to avoid rousing suspicion. A Faerie would only make him nervous.

Scarron looked stricken. "Please, simply consider it Mademoiselle, as a special limited engagement." He bowed deeply. "I've been dreaming of this opportunity since I first heard word of your people. My shop would be forever in your debt!"

"Well." KoKo seemed to give it some thought. Louise nodded eagerly while Agnes shook her head. "I wouldn't dream of taking a job away from Trisha-san's sister." She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Scarron.

"Naturally we would hire you both!" Scarron said eagerly. Louise held her breath. Agnes placed her hand over her eyes. KoKo, tilting her head, extended her hand with a smile.


In the end, any problem could be broken down into a question and an answer, and in between the two were the points of data connecting them. It was the quality and quantity of information that mattered above all else.

Or at least, that was what Argo liked to think. Maybe she'd spent too much time alone in dark rooms connecting imaginary dots. Maybe she really was the one vindicated conspiracy theorist who had, by chance, been right.

Argo scrubbed at her still damp hair and ears with a towel, tail hanging soddenly behind her, sending chills up her spine as it slowly dried.

The soak had done her good.

She stopped at the door to her room, and knocked once before inserting her key into the lock and turning it with a click. "Bath's free now."

Stretched out on the bed nearest the door, the Faerie swordsman sat up slowly. Kirito grunted an affirmative as he climbed to his feet. "We've been on the move all day. Do you want to grab something to eat?"

Argo took a seat at the writing desk and fished through her satchel for a notebook. Suisen poked her head out from one of the satchel's pockets, blinking curiously before flitting up to settle beside the table lamp.

Argo let out an impatient breath before replying curtly, "Only if they've figured out how to brew a triple shot espresso. Don't bother, I already checked." She shook her head as she realized what she was saying. "Sorry, I don't have much appetite right now." Seeing the bodies earlier had left
her with very little desire for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

She paused, glancing to Suisen who looked up expectantly. "Maybe bring back some bread." Suisen wrung her hands anxiously. "One of the honey rolls."

At last it was quiet, she was alone with just Suisen, her thoughts, and her notes. All the information they had collected was at her fingertips. Where to begin?

They'd worked through the whole day meticulously questioning everyone who had known the two latest victims, in hopes of finding some common thread. So far they'd found nothing. Or maybe they had and simply didn't know.

Extracting a bottle of ink and a quill pen from her bag, Argo turned to a blank page. She began to draw out bubbles, connecting them by lines to gradually build up a spider plot.

All three victims had been disfigured, and in the same way. 'Killer's Mark?' she scribbled down.

Save for this brutal mark, none of the victims showed further signs of additional disfigurement. Nor did it appear that anything had been taken from their person.

'Motive.' A question mark was added by the line that connected the first two bubbles.

Two of the victims were Sylphs, one was Cait Syth, but it wasn't clear if Tobi and Liliana were both intended victims or one had simply been in the way of killing the other.

She sketched a single logo, the nine branched Tree and Spire that had been decided upon as the Official Seal of the Faerie Court, and circled it, connecting it to all three victims.

"Suisen," Argo asked, maybe a little too forcefully.

"Yes, Argo-san." The pixie assumed an attentive posture.

"By now, about how many people work for the Faerie Lords?"

The pixie's head bowed as if she was giving the question a great deal of thought. "Over six thousand people answer to the Government directly."

Argo leaned back in her chair. That was what she'd thought. The murders had all been perpetrated against high ranking personnel, the secretary of a Faerie Lord and two captains involved in defense measures.

Her first instinct was that there was an objective. Then was the blood and gore some sort of camouflage? Was someone trying to hide their goal by making them look like random killings? Okay then, what else?

"Suisen, how many other people are like the victims?"

The pixie tilted her head. "Like?"

The information broker shook her head. Right, that was a little vague. "I want to know how many people have jobs similar to Novair, Liliana, and Tobi. People who command raid forces, or who are authorized to read and write reports for the Faerie Lords, things like that."

"One moment." Suisen blinked as she parsed and processed the request. "There are seventy-five people who match those criteria. The ten Watch Captains, the members of the Tau Tona ruling council, the nine standing Faerie Lords and their personal assistants, General Eugene of the Self Defense Forces . . ." Suisen began to patiently list off names and occupations.

It was time to start eliminating potential targets. The Faerie Lords were the first she took off the list, it didn't matter how good the attacker was, they wouldn't be getting through their guards. Next were the head administrators of each of the cities, their lives were simply too public to be easily caught alone. Alden was probably safe.

Argo tapped her quill against the paper impatiently. So far, the killer had chosen his targets from a relatively elite class.

Argo was just beginning to fill in another bubble, surrounding it with question marks, when a sound from her window caused her ears to pique. It started as a scratching. The thing that made it stand out was how irregular it was, like something creeping, something prowling. Faint creaking rose and turned into the groaning noise of yielding wood.

Suisen's small voice droned on as she tilted her head, " . . . the Black Swordsman Kirito, the White Flash Asuna, Argo the Cat . . ."

With a wrenching -snap- and a shout, something dark and fast fell into view outside the half-open window, battering it aside as it crashed into the room.


When Kirito heard the noise overhead he had just reached the bottom flight of the Cheshire Inn. For a moment, his mind had been basically left behind by his accelerating body.

The interior of the inn was too confined to use his wings. He didn't bother trying to fly, but he did the next best thing as he kicked off from the ground floor, taking the stairs in only two bounds before ricocheting off the second story wall.

Argo's room was at the far end, no time to take it safe.

The Spriggan grit his teeth and led with his right shoulder. Faerie swordsman met hardwood, nearly tearing the door from its hinges. Kirito skidded to a stop, ready for anything, or so he thought.

"Argo . . . ?" the shout died on his lips.

"Nice of you to join us, Kii-bou." One strap of her nightshirt hanging from her shoulder, the informant looked unamused as she straddled something tangled in her cloak.

Kirito's pulse began to come down from 'battle alert'. Looking past Argo, he noticed that the window frame was hanging by its bottom hinges.

"Mmmph?" The lump under the cloak rose and twisted from side to side. "Mmm! Mhmhm?!"

Kirito gave Argo a hand hauling the captured intruder to their feet. Reaching up, Argo tore her cloak away. It didn't leave Kirito feeling very impressed.

"Wow dudes, you really know how to make a girl feel welcome!"

Dorky, that was probably the best way for Kirito to describe her, and even using the term made him feel incredibly uncool by proximity.

Argo's intruder was a Cait Syth, short and thinly built, with rosy cheeks, bright brown eyes, and brown hair tied up in pigtails. Her equipment was standard for ninja build, a snug, form fitting, dark blue body glove under lightweight fabric armor. A pair of grappling claws hung from the straps attached to her wrists.

"Okay, time to talk," Argo spat venomously.

"I wasn't doing anything!"

Kirito didn't believe it. Argo didn't either. "Okay! I wasn't doing anything illegal!"

Argo cocked an ear, listening to the noises from outside. The information broker looked back to the girl, whose look of indignation was starting to fade as she realized that she was in real trouble.

Argo's expression turned into a spiteful little smile. "You have thirty seconds, a minute tops, before the innkeeper shows up. That tis how long you have to explain why we shouldn't turn you over to the Watch."

"S-she's joking, right?!"

Kirito rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It is pretty suspicious. We should just hand you over."

"Clock's ticking . . ." Argo added with a nasally hiss.

The girl trembled, face contorting as if she was about to burst. "I'm a reporter! I'm a reporter for ALfheim Daily! You got a problem with that?"

"No." Kirito frowned. How to put it? Looking at her, she did look suspiciously the part despite her equipment. All she needed was a beret stuffed with a press pass and a camera.

"Netzel," Argo groaned, slowly sinking down onto her mattress. The girl nodded eagerly. "That Netzel."

"So you've heard of me?" The girl almost beamed at the news. "Sweet!"

"What is going on in here!" The innkeeper, a Cait Syth with steel gray hair whose appearance was that of a woman in her early thirties, had arrived. A few of the braver or more curious guests peered out from behind her apron, wielding swords, axes, and even a few cooking utensils.

"My friend Netzel here was just coming to visit and she thought she would surprise me by coming in through the window." Argo's narrowed eyes never left the luckless reporter. "It didn't occur to her that it might be locked. Kii-bou here thought something bad was happening and rushed to help."

Kirito flinched when the innkeeper turned her attention to him, the look in her eyes threatening obliteration if he lied. So he very carefully didn't. "That's right. I was just concerned for a friend."

The innkeeper took a few moments to decide if she was satisfied, before nodding reluctantly. "Then tell me . . ." the Cait woman closed her eyes, "just who exactly will be paying for the repairs?"

"Ah? Uh . . ." Netzel began to look nervous when a deep, low voice came from farther down the hall.

"Don't worry Ma'am, we'll cover it under Watch expenses." A gruff Undine made his way to the front of the crowd. The innkeeper gave them both suspicious looks. "Jensen. And this is Vakarian-san." The Undine made himself the center of attention. "These two are also on assignment from the Faerie Lords." The man removed his sunglasses and gave Kirito a curt look. Somehow, Kirito didn't feel like they were being rescued.

"You heard him," Vakarian added lowly. "Move along people, nothing to see here. These aren't the Faeries you are looking for."

The small crowd, uncertain at first, began to gradually disperse until the innkeeper was the only one left. "And how exactly am I going to be reimbursed for this?" She waved at the damaged door and window.

"Aren't you just a squatter who settled down here like everyone else? Maybe you should figure it out . . ." Vakarian was silenced by his partner.

"We've been given an open budget for the investigation. I'll sign off on the damages. Just send an estimate to Freelia Tower."

The Cait Woman became slowly less intimidating as she cooled down. "This inn . . . it's all I really have right now." She put hand lightly against the wall. "I want to take care of it like it's been taking care of me. Thank you."

"We understand Ma'am," Jensen said softly. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

The innkeeper left to get a spare key. There were still a few spare rooms, and she claimed she couldn't have guests staying in a room without a lock. When she was gone, the Salamander watchman had gotten a good look at Netzel.

"Oh, hell, not you again."

"You know her?" Kirito asked.

"Unfortunately," Jensen confirmed. "She's got something of a reputation with the Watch. Getting into trouble where she isn't wanted."

"Hey!" Netzel countered, voice rising as she half rose from the bed. "The public has a right to know dude! And this is breaking news!"

"Like I was saying," Argo trampled the argument before it could begin, "Netzel tis a member of the guild Ad Libitum who publish the ALfheim Daily. They're the people who have been keeping the message boards in all of the town squares up to date."

"You've done your research. Kudos!" Netzel grinned widely. "Now it's my turn. You're Argo, one of Alicia Rue's top assistants and currently part of the murder investigation being conducted on behalf of the Faerie Lords." She then pointed to Kirito.

"That over there is the Black Swordsman Kirito, he's a top rate Spriggan sword user, but he's not a card carrying member of the guild Kurotaka. The big news about him was that he helped to kill the traitorous Viscount Wardes. Also, word on the street is that Asuna of the Knights of Blood is his wife and they're both SAO survivors."

"So you know about all of them. Good," Jensen said gravely. "Then you must know plenty about us too. Now tell us what you're doing here, Netzel, and maybe this won't come back to bite you."

"I was investigating." Netzel held her ground. "Good journalism depends on info that a reporter can trust. And where better to hear it than the Faerie's mouth?"

"You do realize that this is an ongoing investigation, right?" Vakarian asked casually as Jensen paced beside him stroking at his goatee. "What you're doing could tip off the criminals we're trying to catch."

"And leaving everyone in the dark is going to start a panic!" Netzel countered with a huff of indignation. "Jeez, don't you even realize how starved everyone is for info? If you don't throw the public a bone they'll start eating their own tales." Never had a turn of phrase been more literal
as Netzel fondled the tip of her tail beneath her chin. "Just look at the stuff Ryo is saying right now. You gotta fight speculation with facts, and this the real headline stuff!"

Vakarian glowered unkindly. "You know there's a war going on."

"And loose lips sink ships. But listen, you know that I've also never published anything really sensitive. So why don't you just let me off the hook?" She pressed her hands together, pleading.

"Wait." Argo raised hands to her temples as if trying to banish a Boss level migraine that had developed in the last few minutes. "Netzel, just what is Ryo saying? I'm guessing his latest letters got posted today."

"Totally, dude!" the journalist chirped. "ALfheim Daily has exclusive rights to post his letters on our boards." The girl produced a folded piece of print-covered paper from a pouch pocket. "This just went out to everyone." Argo scanned the offered page, ears sinking with every line.

"What is it?"

Argo handed Jensen the sheet.

"Ryo's screaming his head off like an idiot, so that's normal." Argo rubbed at her eyes. "He's asking how the Faerie Lords plan to keep everyone safe when they can't even protect their own subordinates."

"I can't say I disagree," Jensen said, stroking his goatee. "But who is qualified?"

Argo narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Is Jen-san admitting he's a flawed human like the rest of us?"

"Yeah, well now people are agreeing with him," Netzel butted back in. "He's pushing to confront Sakuya in front of the whole city."

"He can't. Lord Mortimer would never allow that," Vakarian said confidently.

"But Lady Sakuya would never allow Mortimer to censor him," Argo countered, ears twitching as she thought. "And neither would Alicia Rue."

"I doubt Thinker would let Mortimer do it either," Jensen added in. "Our Lord isn't that sort of man."

"So I guess it depends how much he listens to his second in command," Vakarian observed.

"They're engaged," Kirito said.

"Oh." The Salamander's tone went flat. "Well then, all hail our Lady Yulier."

"You joke around, but 'tisn't funny," Argo said under her breath.

"People are never satisfied, especially when there's an emergency. It's inevitable," Jensen dismissed. "You'll see as you get older," the Undine investigator continued without noticing the way that Argo bristled. "This sort of thing always happens at the worst time."

Argo paced to and fro, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Finally, she stopped and turned back to Netzel. "Did you mean it?"

"Huh?" The reporter cocked her head.

"Fight speculation with facts?" Urgency tinged her voice along with anxiety.

Netzel grinned. "Sure did, dude!"

"Good. Then maybe we can share some of what we know." Argo's eyes narrowed, both eyelids and the cat-like slits of her irises. "Just so long as you don't put words in our mouths."

"This isn't a good idea," Jensen grunted.

"Just hear me out sa." Argo took a discarded notebook from the writing desk and began to flip through the pages. "She's right. One way or another, someone's going to start telling people their version of the truth. Better they hear it from us."

"Correction, this sounds like a bad idea pretending to be a good idea." Vakarian leaned out of the way against the ruined door. "You can't let her say anything that will endanger the investigation."

"You're right, I can't. But I can write a letter of introduction to Alicia Rue. If Netsu-chan wants answers, she can get them straight from the Faerie's mouth."

"You'd do that?!" The journalist looked up, eyes brimming with wonder. "They won't even let me in the front door of Arrun Tower anymore!"

And whose fault is that? Kirito wondered wordlessly.

Argo ripped a page from her notebook and gave it to the journalist. "Here. This should at least get your foot in the door with Alicia."

She looked at the note and then back to Argo. Kirito was sure she wanted to hug the information broker. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! This is going to be a huge help!" Staring at the letter of introduction like a new toy, Netzel barely noticed Jensen speaking to her. "Neh?"

"One way or another, you did attempt to spy on an investigation. We have to be sure you don't do that again, or you might pose a security risk."

"Nyah?"

"We just need your side of the story. We suggest you come along quietly," Vakarian added. "Jensen-san here is pretty good with binding spells. I think it's how he expresses all his kinks."

"Nyah!"

Jensen stopped at the door long enough to signal to Kirito. "Just out of curiosity," the Undine tossed a look back over his shoulder, "is there a reason why she seems to hate our guts?"

It really wasn't his place to speak. But he could say this much, "I guess . . . she's had her trust betrayed by the authorities before. And I think she blames them for a lot of the things that have happened to us."

"Sounds like a hell of grudge to keep bottled up," Jensen decided. "She does have it bottled up, right?"

If it were anything else, or anytime else, Kirito would have answered 'Yes, definitely.' Instead, he admitted, "I don't know."

"Well then, you better keep a close eye on her." And then he was gone after his partner.


Argo slept but she didn't rest. Her mind was exhausted, but she hadn't stopped thinking, she couldn't, it was like an involuntary twitch, a spasm she couldn't stop. Ideas ran in circles in her head, tenuous answers rising and sinking out of the sea of minutiae. She felt like her brain was about to burst.

Rio the self absorbed jerk with ambitions of leadership, and Regin the voice of reason among the dissenters to the rule of their leaders. Netzel the reporter, chasing the scoop wherever it took her. Tobi and Liliana found together, their skills hadn't helped them. Tobi's sword had been missing, had he tried to defend them?

The investigators, Watch officers Jensen and Vakarian. Confident, condescending, dismissive of any new facts. They thought they had it all figured out and were only interested in gathering evidence that supported their conclusion. Argo knew they couldn't be trusted.

Novair's sightless eyes. A killer's mark. Had Laughing Coffin been reborn in this world? Sakuya, Lady of the Sylphs, looking sick as she saw the dead body of her friend. Mortimer observing clinically. Alicia voicing suspicions, the cute façade gone for a minute. She'd looked old, much too old.

And further back, past the Transition, past ALfheim, to something far more sinister. The price of being vindicated as a conspiracy theorist was learning just how useless your tinfoil hat really was.

The SAO Taskforce easily possessed the resources to quickly investigate any lead on the net. They could have forced RECT Progress to tell them what was at the top of the World Tree. So why hadn't they made more progress?

Delayed trauma they'd called it, as if she couldn't control herself. It wasn't her fault, she'd just become submerged in her character. But now everything was okay, there were adults to do the 'hard stuff' while she put her life back together. At the end of it, she had wondered if the special victims' councilor was going to hand her a lollipop.

She was being talked down to by a person who had never faced death, who had never seen a person die in front of them, who had never become friends with people whose real names and identities were a secret. He didn't know and he didn't want to know. The people who had died deserved better than this.

She'd logged everything, taken images of all the forums and image boards where she'd found the original screenshots and then compared them to the edited pics. When she'd realized what was happening she'd taken measures, monitoring the spread and gradual disappearance of the original screenshots from the web.

She remembered seeing without really seeing, stopping, staring at the picture for the longest time. A birdcage at the top of a tree, and what was in that birdcage. It had to be coincidence, just coincidence. Real life didn't have a story or a narrative it was trying to tell. But maybe the universe had a bad sense of humor.

She hadn't felt like celebrating. How did someone like Aa-chan, who'd never played a game before in her life that didn't run on her phone, end up leading the clearing effort to victory? How did someone who had fought so hard not get to go home?
When she'd seen herself in the mirror, watching while the nurse cut her long, filthy hair, she hadn't recognized the gaunt looking girl with sunken eyes. Her parents had brought her a tablet so that she could start catching up with the world while she recovered. And that was when she had learned something else, and her excitement had crumbled away . . .

She remembered waking up. At first her eyes had refused to focus properly. For the longest time she'd simply lain flat on her back, feeling her own breathing and heartbeat for the first time in over two years. She felt her eyes beginning to sting; by the time the nurses got to her, her vision had once more been blurred. They'd done it, Kii-bou and Aa-chan had done it.

The glow had overtaken her and her contact, a Ninja build, had given her one last look. "Catch you on the next one, Argo . . ." And then the light was surrounding her as well, filling her vision until all she could see was the almost forgotten field ofd\ white that signaled a logout.

"Argo-san . . . Argo! Please, hurry, you have to wake up, you have to wake up!" the tiny voice shouted. Why would her little sister be shouting at her . . . except she didn't have a little sister. White turned to red, and then deepened to near blackness.

Argo's eyes fluttered open, sucking in a breath as she shot up in bed. Her eyes widened still further as she tried to understand what she was seeing. She looked up, and up, at the shadow at the end of her bed.

He was a Spriggan, like Kii-bou, and in every way he was the opposite.

Tall, much taller than her, and thin. His features were as sharp as an ax head, ashen skin peeking out from beneath a wide brimmed hat and haloed by hair like twisted black wire.

She was frozen, certain that this still had to be a dream. A nightmare. A short black blade appeared with a silken -snik-, slender and vicious. Argo's eyes followed the edge, curving smoothly from its point.

The Spriggan cocked his head, savoring the moment of indecision. The sword slashed downward, edge so sharp it seemed to cut the dim light.

Without a thought, Argo pounced.


-WHAM-

Kirito's eyes fluttered open between heartbeats.

-THUD-

By the time he was actually awake he was already throwing himself off of the bed, landing on his palms and the balls of his feet. His heart was still catching up.

-WHAM!-

The noise was coming from the opposite wall. Argo's room. With his off hand, Kirito seized the hilt of Onyx Arbiter and drew the sword free of its scabbard. His brain was already doing the math.

His room was six paces across. He knew from pacing it all evening. It was twelve paces from his door to Argo's. Call it seven more paces to reach Argo from there. He could cover that in almost no time.

-CRACK-

Or, the wall was thin between its beams. He could cover six paces in even less.

By the time Kirito's thoughts had caught up with his actions he was already accelerating from a dead stop to a terminal sprint. He had only a fraction of a second to prepare as he tucked his chin into his chest and braced for impact.

It was nothing at all like tackling the door. Doors were meant to be opened. Walls were not meant to open at all. And even when they did, say, under impact of seventy kilograms of Faerie, they didn't do so very easily or very well.

Pain burst down the Spriggan's leading shoulder. Through a haze of shock his charge slowed like he was suddenly running through cold molasses. He felt his right leg and left arm go red hot as they scraped across wood splinters. And cold across the back of his neck as blood was drawn and his collar was torn.

Then he was through and everything sped back up.

Kirito blinked away the stars. He hadn't turned on the light in his room, so he'd not lost his night vision, and the moonlight was shining in through the open window. The scene it revealed sent an electric spark through his chest.

Argo was curled into one corner of the room, eyes wide and body hunched as she was loomed over by a dark and twisted shape out of nightmares. The blackness turned and unfolded into the recognizable shape of a tall and whip thin man, ash pale face glowing between the collar of his coat and the brim of his hat.

The first to spring back into motion was Argo, possibly because it had been too late to stop. Legs uncoiling, the Cait deftly lunged for the attacker's left side, bypassing his sword arm entirely. A black clad arm shot out like a bar, snatching the Cait by her collar and throwing her bodily into Kirito.

He felt Argo hit him like a bag full of steel wire. She twisted in his arms, throwing off his balance as she leaped free in time to barely miss a lick from the assailant's sword.

Kirito didn't hesitate, taking the assailant from the left as Argo went for his right.

It was in this time that he was able to process that the assailant was a Spriggan. And that he was terrifyingly unafraid.

Outnumbered two to one, instead of hesitating, he attacked, lashing out in a wild and reckless barrage that drove Kirito back and left Argo clawing at empty air.

They crossed blades for what could not have been more than one or two moments, but already, Kirito felt his nerves fraying and his body breaking into a cold sweat. That was natural. Even the best fighter shook with adrenaline. This man did not. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the assault broke and the assassin somersaulted back, landing on the windowsill, and with a great deal more grace than Netzel before, tumbled backwards into the night.

Argo's door slammed open. The inn-keep stormed through the threshold clad in her nightgown and a great axe which she wielded with both hands. Behind her, a whole raid of inn guests clutched whatever weapons they had on hand. She took in Kirito, Argo, and her ruined wall in one glance.

"Hold that thought!" The Spriggan was out the window before he heard the reply.

Freelia was dark at night, darker than Arrun. There was no World Tree to backsplash the street lanterns, and the winding streets seemed to trap most of the incidental light. Kirito spotted a shadow turning a corner. He gave chase.

Hemmed in by the city walls, Freelia's lower ward had been designed to resemble a real medieval city. Which was to say, it resembled a maze. The major streets followed the same spiraling logic as Arrun, but were fed by tributary alleys and side streets that quickly became labyrinth.

Players would probably have never attempted to navigate them anyway but by air. Now it was a thicket in which Argo's assailant sought to disappear.

Kirito stayed on him, skimming the roofs and following him through every curve. Sometimes almost losing the trail, but never quite being left behind.

There were no teleportation crystals in ALO. There was no way for the assassin to escape.

A sharp whistle pierced the air as the fleeing Spriggan seized a lamppost to swing himself down a tight side street. Kirito followed, cautious for fear of a trap. The whistling again, from the end of the alley as the assassin turned, a cloud of golden runes illuminating his profile as he vanished.

It was only as Kirito erupted back out onto an open street that he realized he'd been had.

Lights were turning on in the windows flanking the narrow streets, and the sleepy residents of Freelia, some clutching blankets against the cold, some clutching weapons against the unknown, were emerging to see what could possible by causing such a late night racket.

He was in the middle of Freelia's residential district. Most Caits were at home in bed this time of night. It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds, a minute at most, before the street had become as full as midday with milling Faeries. And all hopes of picking back up the trail vanished.

Kirito stopped as his eyes caught sight of something pooled on the ground. A leather coat, slick to the touch, abandoned.

"Ho!" A Cait watchmen shouted as he and his partner dropped down over the rooftops and landed close by, spotting Kirito who stood out and approaching at once. They bore light armor and carried the ringed staffs prefered by the Freelia watch.

The looked unsure at first, weapons half raised, until Kirito waved them off. He picked up the fallen garment and scanned the crowd of milling faces. But by now, the assassin could be anywhere in the streets . . . or . . . his palms itched . . . anyone.