XII. The Bloody B-Rabbit
One of the questions I am asked most while serving abroad from curious foreigners is, inevitably, about our country's Chains. The phenomenon of the Abyss is strangely localized to our global region, and though several neighboring nations have witnessed the existence of the Chains and contractors running amok amongst their populations, only our countrymen have had the scientific ambition, military knowledge, and political organization to establish Pandora as an institution dedicated to Chain research and capture. In most other nations, unfortunately, Chains wreck havoc and have to be violently subdued by government-assigned squadrons; and one of the most delicate positions our nation is faced with is guarding the secret of contracting Chains.
His Ambassadorship has had to deal with many a fraught political situation concerning the attainment of Chains by an ally nation. Yet our reluctance is completely justifiable. The security of our global position relies on our ability to tame Chains. If this information is ever disseminated across our borders, who knows what rival kingdoms or power-hungry madmen may do? The situation would unleash the dogs of war and conquest across the world.
Knowing this, I realize how pertinent my occupation is, on both the public and private fronts, and, in keeping with the Nightray tradition, my missions are not purely diplomatic. As such, most do not involve the spilling of blood as much as it involves the destruction of information. Last I was sent out, was not to assassinate a person, (the number of people I've slain is surprisingly few, considering what insiders to my covert identity assume about my position) but to kill an idea.
And so I watched the stacks of books blacken and curl, the smoke rising through the broken rifts in the ceiling. I heaped more fuel to the flames and the fire spread, eagerly, quickly, lapping up parchment and ink, vellum and leather. The conflagration lasted for most of the night, and when it ended, I crushed the smoking ashes and smoldering remains, to be sure all of the works were completely and utterly wiped out.
That was the last of the infamous library of Agon. All of its historical books about Chains and their sightings were no more.
Picking up a half-ruined, charred scroll, I unrolled it to read: "The first sighting of the Bloody Black Rabbit was on the 17th of June, 18— in the Urle Mountains of Braline…"
The parchment crumbled between my hands. Out of all known Chains, no foreigner should know anything about the Bloody Black Rabbit.
It is too dangerous.