Chapter 2: Wherein Sena Kobayakawa, Dӓmon Decoder, meets Shin Seijuuro, White Knight. Wherein the pranks of Dӓmonen start a hidden war in the City of Abbaddon. Wherein the mysterious Drachen show themselves.
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In the city of Abaddon,
While the grimy street urchins ran through cobbled, misty streets, dimly lit by the faint golden lamplights,
While poor widows stitched in the flickering light of electronic eel lights,
While the factory workers in the smoking square stone buildings labored to build Golem Suits, Horseless Carriages, Water Underships, and the Steel Horses,
While the nobility danced waltzes in their brilliant ballrooms,
While men in rooms talked about the declining market and the inflation of energy,
There was a war going on.
Admittedly, it had been started because of Kuroki's hot temper. It did not help that the Dӓmonen were fiercely prideful. It also did not help that the Oberhaupt explained little, only cackling and leaving with a, "Damn brats, these will be your new bodyguards against the blast." And promptly marched them off into training into the already-explored parts of the Old City. Now, they had Doburoku as an overseer. But the knights had their own overseer. And apparently, Doburoku and the Um Der Ritter overseer had their own history to work through.
So, this is how there came to be a secret war underneath the City of Abaddon, between the Schergen Des Gottes and the Um Der Ritter.
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For some reason, Jumonji seemed to always steal Sena away every time the craggy-faced knight would approach him.
They had split up into three teams, since there were 3 pure Decoders in the Dӓmon squad. Ingenieur Yukimitsu, who studied the Old City and could mostly correctly estimate where the Doors where, went with one team. Monta, who entered Dӓmon, was a Sucher or a seeker, who grew up as part of the homeless youth running around the Old City. Taki, who was both a Sucher and a Decoder, went into the third team. They divided all the Schilds, which included Um Der Ritter now, into the three teams.
Jumonji had been assigned into Sena's team. As well as the craggy-faced knight. And every time the knight attempted to talk to Sena, Jumonji would casually step in between. Whether it had been at the welcoming of Um Der Ritter at dinner or showing them where to store their Golem Suits, or showing them to their beds, Jumonji was there. And Sena felt the knight's eyes on him all the time.
It was quite unnerving to be the focus of that sharp-eyed gaze.
Now, however, Jumonji was on a supply run.
And the knight was approaching.
"Sena Kobayakawa."
It was a statement, not a question.
Sena cleared his throat noisily. Even if it had been strange, he had been grateful for Jumonji's interference. He didn't think Jumonji knew about him being a psychic, but distance from all the Um Der Ritter only helped. Helped keep his secret. "Yes. Uh, I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."
"I didn't say it." He said, without inflection.
Sena blinked. "Ah, right, of course. What's your name?"
"Shin Seijuro, Lanze der Ritter."
"Sena Kobayakawa, Decoder von den Schergen Gottes."
"You are not a usual Decoder."
Sena blinked once more. Technically, Shin's statement was true. Decoders were also well-built. Musashi and Taki were good decoders. They could pick out patterns, but could withstand blasts. Suchers and Ingenieurs didn't have to be well-built, they found Doors, and stood back before any of the blast happened. Sena wet his lips. "Ah, didn't grow up to all of this. Didn't grow up training as one." He mumbled as he looked down and pushed around food on his plate. Nope, he certainly had not grown up on any of this. Just got scooped up after some shady man with geckos in his hat pointed him out to Hiruma. In the district of Whitechapel, where life was scrabble-hard and the Undesirables of society lived: the thieves, the prostitutes, and the dark-skinned refugees of the deserts.
"No," The abrupt tone had Sena looking up at the knight who was looking at him as trying to bore through his skill, "Your muscles are not built to withstand the blast. You are not the usual Decoder," repeated Shin.
"A-hh," sweat was forming in Sena's armpits, and it seemed to him that seconds agonizingly ticked by as he stared into Shin's eyes. Sena's eyes flicked away, his mouth opening slightly, breathing shallowly.
Something crashed.
Sena jumped up, looking around wildly. Shin was already on his feet, his eyes turning to the source of the crash. The sound had stopped all conversations in the room.
Ikari, one of the White Knights, was holding up Kuroki against the stone wall. "WATCH WHAT YOU SAY, FILTHY DOG."
Kuroki snarled.
Sena sighed. For more reasons than one. Relief. And exhaustion. Whenever Jumonji wasn't around, Kuroki had an even harder time controlling his temper. And for some reason, stopping fights had become Sena's job. Sena stood up. Gratefully and regretfully.
The knight was dangerous.
The knight was dangerous because he was a knight. And also because his intensity held you and refused to let go.
The knight was dangerous because he was too interesting by half.
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That night, Kuroki peppered the joints of Ikari's Golem Suit with sand.
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As the Dӓmonen and the Um Der Ritter began to blearily come into the hall, slowly putting on their respective suits, preparing oxygen packs, checking their lanterns, a sudden creaking got everyone's attention.
Ikari was moving strangely. He was in his Golem Suit, eyes wide, his elbows at 90 degree angles. He was attempting to move his arms, but he could only move them like an Automaton.
Togano pressed play on the mobile music box, and beeping techno music came, as he and Kuroki went behind Ikari and started dancing the Automaton, limbs and joints stiffly moving. Ikari was yelling at them as he turned around, creaking and looking for all the world, like he was dancing himself.
Laughter burst out from the room. The minesweepers laughed and laughed.
The Dӓmonen received three days of penalty. The Vater Mamori oversaw their punishment of intense prayers.
But it continued.
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Gushiken, one of the White Knights, ground red chilli peppers and sprinkled them on Dӓmonen toothbrushes. The Um Der Ritter all had stone faces –to keep themselves from laughing—as the Dӓmonen screamed hell down in the communal bathrooms that night. Except Shin. He was just stone-faced. Period.
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Monta and Taki sniffed out false Doors attached to the city sewers, and at a signal, had the Dӓmonen pull over raincoats as the mines exploded, leaving the White Knights splattered in brown, stinky crap.
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"This has got to stop, Oberhaupt." Vater Mamori had her hands on the table, her eyes fiery. But the effect seemed lost on Hiruma, who was leaning back against his chair, feet up on the table, hands behind his head.
"No," said the Oberhaupt, "It's the perfect scenario. It doesn't seem like it, but it will build them. Pending another event."
Mamori's eyes furrowed, her forehead shadowed by her wimple. "What do you mean?"
Hiruma lifted his legs and rolled his wooden and rattan chair away. He looked at the window, where a bloated moon shined down on them, through metal bars encased in stone blocks. "Have you ever heard of the Drachen?"
There was no answer.
Curious, Hiruma turned back. And understanding dawned. "Of course," he said with satisfaction, "you know the Drachen. You must know them. This city, once so great, now, simply a great mass of it dying, while the few enjoy the energy source that fuels the Horseless Carriages, the Water Underships and Steel Horses."
The Vater looked at the window behind Hiruma, "I became a vater, Oberhaupt, because of the poverty in the streets." She restlessly began to move around. "Children's faces pressed up against the Horseless Carriages every day. Women with babies asking me for help. The sickness. The death. I found that the poverty would not go away with a hot meal and shelter for the night. It's roots are much deeper. Even deeper than the Old City."
"So, you know the energy has become finite?"
The Vater looked at him squarely, "I'm not stupid. This is why the Vatikan is building more units like the Dӓmonen, putting together more people with less independence. The Drachen is amassing the energy."
"Hoarding it," Hiruma corrected.
And Mamori smiled at him, "And do you all plan to be the heroes who will take it back for the people?"
Hiruma's eyebrows rose, "Who said I'd take it back to give it away? I plan on winning it all."
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In the city of Abaddon,
While the grimy street urchins ran through cobbled, misty streets, dimly lit by the faint golden lamplights,
While poor widows stitched in the flickering light of electronic eel lights,
While the factory workers in the smoking square stone buildings labored to build Golem Suits, Water Underships, and the Steel Horses,
While the nobility danced waltzes in their brilliant ballrooms,
While men in rooms talked about the declining market and the inflation of energy,
There was a war going on.
The dreadlocks flowed out in the wind. The man in a cape dusted off his hands. "Trash." He said under his breath. He boarded the waiting Horseless Carriage.
"Wasn't that a little too much?" The short man said on the inside.
"No, Ikkyu. Talentless trash is talentless trash."
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End of Chapter 2