"You knew that she was trying to stab you in the back?!"
When the train finally reached its destination and the casualties were finally counted - alongside the two gravely injured Rangers, over fifteen passengers suffered injuries from the train getting thrown around - the train guards made a thorough check of every single person departing from the train. Yet, no Silva Natrix was found - nor was she found hiding anywhere inside of the train. The only way she could have vanished like this was if she leapt off the train - at which point, she was likely already gone. The tunnel was long and vast, with plenty of different exits that allowed for a person inside to leave - or to be picked up by a co-conspirator.
There wasn't much more they could do about it. So, after departing from the underground train station, they rose to the surface and stepped to the streets of Mountain Glenn. A background hum of lively chatter and grumbling engines of large-wheeled cars, their steel wheels clanging across the streets, bombarded the four travellers as soon as they stepped out of the stair passage. Unlike Vale, Mountain Glenn's cityscape, at least the city centre that surrounded the train station, was a lot more functional - less old, embellished houses thickly dotting confusing zigzagging streets, and more concrete blocks built to save time and space while fitting in a rapidly growing population. After all, unlike the metropole, it was, more or less, designed in advance. And when you have control over what the city will look like, why wouldn't you make it a bit more functional?
The sun was slowly reaching towards the horizon, but it still took the quartet a few seconds to get used to the light after having ridden a train in relative darkness for so long.
"Yes," Firre finally answered Reza's question. "As you might imagine, I had a lot to deal with at that moment and I couldn't exactly confront her about it right then. Had she not escaped, I would have obviously confronted her."
"How are you so... nonchalant about this?! You almost died!"
Reza's challenge - which he still couldn't tell if it was a genuine worry for his health or just bafflement at what happened - got Firre to smile. "Well, I'm still alive, aren't I?"
Of course. She sighed. Yche, taking the opportunity, asked herself:
"So, are we going to search for her? It's possible that she ended up in Mountain Glenn, much like us."
"We..." Firre muttered, then paused. The team stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, near a street crossing. It was messy and chaotic - a few months ago, the administration of the colony tried implementing a system of coloured Dust lights to signal to traffic on each street when to stop and when to go, and the passengers seem to have not yet figured out the difference between "red" and "green" yet. "...We'll see. We will be able to inform the Internal Affairs Corps once we return to Vale, but if she's going to go after me, then I suspect we'll cross paths eventually regardless."
At some level, he was hoping they would. He could guess a little about Silva's psychological profile at this point, and she seemed far from an evil sadistic monster. Bitter and paranoid, sure, but not because of evil intentions. At the very least... he had to find out why she aimed to impale him in the middle of their fight against the Grimm.
I'm... not certain if the Grimm attack was unconnected, either. She was dressed rather too well for a runaway slave, too - perhaps there was a common conspiracy involved? That's a long shot, though... and where the hell could this conspiracy have come from, anyway? She's not Mantlean-affiliated, that's for sure.
"Uh, Firre, unless you want to head to this burger place, we should probably get going."
Yche's words snapped him out of contemplation. They were still standing in the middle of the sidewalk, a handful of the civilians walking past them shooting disappointed glares at the obstacle in the middle of the road. "Whamburger", crowded by several dozen Dust miners off their shift, stood on the other side of the street - apparently, this "fast food" novelty was getting rather popular thanks to the permanently busy life of Mountain Glenn.
Ashen placed her hands on her hips and smacked her lips. "Gah, I actually do want a burger now... Hey, we can go grab a burger, right? Come on..." The proposal, a plead so saccharine that it genuinely sounded like a child begging their parents, got a sudden bout of passion to light up in Yche's eyes.
"Yes!"
"Uh-what?" was all Firre could blurt out at first. Are... they serious? He couldn't guess whether they were at first, but the longer they lingered on the proposal, the more the answer became apparent, and he thus sighed. "We're not here to go to a restaurant. We need to find that weapon designer, and it's already getting late."
"Ah, don't worry, you won't find him so early in the day, anyway," Ashen waved his concerns off and turned around, ready to cross the street. Early...? briefly crossed Firre's mind, then, with no one else to gauge opinion from, he turned his eyes to Reza. The blonde-haired woman's expression was as blank as you could possibly get.
"What? Why are you looking at me? It's their idea, not mine," she said.
"Sho, hahv ahl ohf yhou nhehvehr been to Mhounthwan Glhwn be-"
"Good brothers, learn to swallow before talking!"
It took fifteen minutes for all four of them to find a circular table and get equipped with burgers - well, three of them, at least, as Reza only asked for a cup of coffee. As if to balance it out, Yche brought not one, but three of the sandwiches to the table, and held two of them in her hands, taking bites out of them. Like a mindless brute... As much as the two could be fun to hang around with, it was also painfully obvious that she didn't match with the most mature members of the Academy.
Far from it.
Ordered by her teammate, Ashen paused and then loudly gulped the bite in her mouth - then, she finally managed to ask clearly:
"So, have all of you never been to Mountain Glenn before?"
"It's my first time here," Reza answered, simply, to which Firre added after lowering the burger by his mouth:
"I've been here on official visits of the Royal Family, but I can't say I've been here. I didn't get to see or experience much."
Ashen's eyes then turned to Yche - who, being still in the middle of chomping down on her burgers, merely shook her head. For a second, the conversation died down, but Firre's eyes soon settled on Ashen. She appeared to be at ease in the city and, at least, she was familiar with this so-called "gun-maker" who, according to her description, was frequented by criminals and suspicious figures of all kinds - usually, she kept her background behind wraps and a happy-go-lucky attitude. After another bite from his burger, he asked:
"I assume you're from here, then?"
"Ah, well..." Ashen answered after her last bite of the burger and wiping her hands. "Well, not quite. I wasn't born here, but I ended up spending a lot of time here when I was a teenager. Those days were..." In the midst of her sentence, she glanced past Firre and Reza on the other side of the table, past the window, with a wistful look. "...well, certainly not boring, but I wouldn't say they were great."
Firre listened with his arms folded. It raised as many questions as it gave answers, but he figured that he could hold off on pressuring Ashen about it for now. Next to her, Yche threw the final piece of her last burger into her mouth, then reclined in her chair while licking grease off her fingers.
"Ahh... so good..."
"You could have just eaten before the train ride, you know," Reza said. She was in the middle of pulling her backpack off her back and searching for her Parchment, but paused to grab the napkin off Ashen's hands - soliciting a brief "Hey" from her - and handed it over to Yche. She wiped her hands with it, while answering:
"I did, but that was a while ago. Mom told me that a huntress of Grimm must eat two times more than anyone else - and I'm abiding by that. See, I'm now the size of a barge!" She punctuated her sentence by raising her arms and stretching her muscles, with a proud grin.
Baffled at first, Reza then glanced away with an amused snort. "Not... incorrect." Alright, what was I... Oh, right. From her backpack, she pulled out her Parchment and placed it on the table with a loud clang. Firre, the last to finish his meal, asked:
"What's this for?"
"Oh, nothing. Since we apparently have a bit of time to kill, I'll catch up on my reading." Her eyes turned up, glaring straight at Ashen and Yche. "You do remember that we still have those exams soon, right?"
Snap. Instantly, Ashen clutched her head and Yche shot her eyes to the ceiling with a loud groan. Memories of their panic after General Perun's announcement all returned in one overwhelming package. "Come on... I was having such a good time..." Ashen mumbled under her breath. Reza's grinning was cut short, however, by an elbow bopping her upper arm from the side - it was Firre, who gave her a dissatisfied look and immediately disarmed her.
A slow loading screen flashed on the Parchment's screen, accompanied by a pixelated tune, then, once it faded, Reza started turning the knobs on the side, searching for the application. Different images flashed as she switched through, and for a second, the familiar image of a low-resolution Jurata Glaesa sitting behind a reporter's table appeared.
"-breaking news have reached us from Mountain Glenn-"
"Wait, huh?" Reza called out as soon as her brain realise what she had just heard. The video feed had already vanished, but she turned the dial back until the rippling image on the screen consolidated into the familiar blonde-haired visage.
"Is that about..." Ashen muttered, leaning closer to the centre of the table.
"-a terror attack organised by Mantlean special services led to the deaths of several employees and a temporary opening of the tunnel connecting Vale and Mountain Glenn, which was used by a pack of Grimm and their attack temporarily disrupted the train. Though no deaths among the passengers were reported, many suffered injuries and..."
"Wait, what?" Firre called out, his suddenly raised voice getting a few customers sitting by tables besides them to glance at him with frustration. Yche folded her hands behind her back.
"I know, right - it's only been an hour, how'd the information about it reach the news already? Did they have reporters on the scene or something?" she asked.
"No, no, I mean... it was a Mantlean attack?"
In the Parchment screen, Jurata clenched her hand to a fist and raised it, slightly. "...Yet another day, yet another incursion by the slavers to the north - and this one taking innocent lives of our own citizens. Once again, our broadcast pleads to King Ozymandias - do not allow this to continue and consider any option to-"
The video shut off. Nothing happened to the reporter - nothing they'd know of, at least - but rather, Reza's thumb turned the knob on the side to shut the broadcast off. Her eyes were closed, and her hand was clutching onto the Parchment tightly. Slowly, she let out a breath, enriched with bitterness, and finally said:
"Gods... damn it."
The broadcast, and Reza's unenthused response to it, left a heavy mood settling around the table, until, suddenly, Yche called out:
"I agree - what the hell is wrong with the King of Mantle at the point? And his kingdom? If they're going to put actual, innocent people in danger, then we really have no choice but to-"
"That's not what I meant!" Reza suddenly cut her off, with a raised voice that briefly got the other student to recoil. "This whole kingdom is falling for a trap! Jurata, all the Valean Council members constantly calling for aggressive action, Mantle and Mistral responding in kind... all that it's doing is pulling us to war..."
Yche rose from her seat, answering with an outright yell.
"We should go to war!"
Almost instantly, she began to regret her statement. Not only was the attention of the rest of the restaurant on them, but the other three members of her group did not take her words well. Firre turned his eyes away from her after a disappointed glare, Ashen froze in shock, while Reza was outright appalled. But there was no walking back from it. Yche slumped back to her seat.
"I mean, it's just... It doesn't seem like we'll ever live in peace. Everything we stand for, they stand against. We wish to build a country where everyone can live free, they send bounty hunters to kidnap our citizens. We wish for everyone to express their individuality, and they're turning into a nightmare of control and emotion suppression. And now this, tossing away our lives for the sake of petty gain... We're fighting for... what is right, and they are, well, evil."
"Evil?!"
"They... Yes! They are! Why are you defending them?! They murdered our people!"
Yet another exchange of yells that drew the attention of the restaurant - and this time, it even threatened to escalate. Reza closed her eyes and clenched her fists, trying to keep herself steady with loud breaths - but none of her peers expected to take this lying down, and she certainly appeared like she had a lot to say.
Suddenly, both women were pushed to their seats by a strong grip on both of their shoulders. It was Ashen - she reached over the table to do so - and once she began to speak, her nails lightly dug in to emphasize her grip even further.
"Please... don't fight, at least not here. We'll be able to talk about this, but when you're overtaken by emotion like right now, all you're going to do is yell at each other, if not say something you will regret."
She finished her statement with her usual bright smile, but her slower, much more collected manner of speech, and the serious tone, took both of her friends aback. The anger at one another receded, pushed to the sidelines by the surprise. Reza's embarrassed glance away and Yche's faint pout with her arms folded was a better indicator of success than any.
"Especially as we still don't know anything about the attack," Firre finally joined the conversation. "Glaesa and the Amber House are only news reporters, and nothing they say is official. They draw their own conclusions from what happened, but there is no reason to assume that they know any more than someone who was defending the train at that time."
Besides, it doesn't make sense. Or does it mean that Silva and Mantleans were operating independently? That'd be an enormous coincidence, and I'm not sure I can write it off as that so easily.
Even if he believed that there had to be more to the events on the train, Firre could tell that this wasn't really what Reza worried about. Their eyes briefly met, and for a second, he saw the same downcast glare that he remembered from yesterday.
The mere fact that the Amber House report existed at all was what must have worried her. Because, at this point, it wasn't even the truth that mattered - but the perception of it, and that the perception demanded a war.
After letting go of her teammates, Ashen announced:
"I... think we've stayed here for long enough, anyway."
With Ashen at the front, the team departed from the busy centre of Mountain Glenn and walked towards the residential districts surrounding it like a ring. The multi-story office buildings and apartments concentrated near the train station were well past them, replaced with increasingly low and shabby housing. Wide streets, dotted with greenery and bustling with cars, were followed by more and more narrow ones, and though the roads were still built from asphalt, the sidewalks were no more than paths of dirt and sand. As there was no car traffic in this neighbourhood - what rich person with an automobile would ever consider driving here? - the team simply began walking the road itself.
The careful planning of Mountain Glenn applied less and less as you entered shabbier neighbourhoods. It was a city of opportunity for thousands, promising something less rigid than the old structures of Vale and offering less oversight due to the lesser presence of the Ranger Corps - however, new houses and districts could not be built as fast as people moved in, so many simply erected their own while huddling together outside of the limits of the city centre, where they could find space.
Even though he hadn't been here before, Firre had heard a lot about how much of a headache the poorer Mountain Glenn districts were. Unlike Vale, the colony city did not have natural defences and thus was forced to use sophisticated defence systems in order to ward off Grimm - which was getting increasingly difficult with the wider and wider urban sprawl. Small packs would wander into the edge of the city daily, constantly raising alarm and sapping the strength of the Rangers in Mountain Glenn. It soon became clear that its "freedom" had a downside as well - for every starry-eyed immigrant who wanted to help build up "the second Vale" from scratch, you had criminals, smugglers, sellswords, to whom the colony was also, in a way, a dream come true, but a nightmare for others.
In Vale, the initial enthusiasm with Mountain Glenn had long since faded - now, it was an expensive burden they were saddled with.
"Since we're in a group, we're not really in any danger, but make sure to keep a few things in mind regardless," Ashen began to explain. Her voice was a little hushed, to make sure that it doesn't get announced throughout the entire neighbourhood, but now that the bitter feelings and concern from their time in the restaurant had receded, she was back to her usual enthusiastic and energetic self. "Wherever you go, just make it seem you have somewhere to be and that you're not bothered by going through this neighbourhood. That's a sign that you've got some reason to be confident. People are going to be staring at you - but the last thing you wanna do is avoid eye contact with anyone entirely. That just tells people that you're afraid of this place. But don't go around staring at people, either - that tells them you've got some sort of problem with them. Simple rule, 'see, but don't look'. If you cross your eyes with someone else, acknowledge them, but no more. Again, you're here because you have somewhere to be."
The explanation, with the wording of a professional investigative officer instructing his novice peers how to act in a problematic neighbourhood, coming out of the mouth of their most happy-go-lucky teammate was certainly... an experience.
Already, as they were walking down the road, a few people were "seeing, but not looking at them". In the narrow, damp gap between two grey shabby housing blocks, three figures were talking, discussing something amongst themselves, and occasionally offering glances to the young adults passing by. On the other side of the street, on his lawn, a middle-aged man with a sun-kissed skin tone was assembling his weapon, a large battle axe with a few Dust grenades attached to its handle, and briefly shot them a glare.
They're just minding their business... I mean... we've got even more people than them, they wouldn't risk attacking us...
"Am I going to cause any problems?" Firre asked.
"Oh?" Ashen waved her hand off. "Don't worry about it. People here couldn't care less about who's in charge on the other side of the tunnel, they won't recognize who you are unless you tell them yourself. So... don't tell them that yourself, and you'll be fine."
The prince rolled his eyes and glanced away. "Right... I was just about to do that, thanks."
Marching next to Ashen, Reza turned her head from one side to another, clutching tightly onto the straps of her backpack and very faintly cowering - like a hiker trekking through dangerous woods. Observing their surroundings - from the left to the right - she kept seeing more and more people, as if camouflaged into the background of the messy poor district. Some were innocuous, such as children playing with wooden weapons and Semblances in a courtyard, others were far more suspicious. Reza hastened her pace and approached closer to their "guide", then asked:
"Hey, so... Ashen, how long until we get there?"
"We'll get there when we get there, why do you ask?"
"Uh, how long is 'when we get there'? It's just... you keep taking us to worse and worse neighbourhoods. It's really making me uneasy."
"Come on, with that attitude, you wouldn't last a week in my village," Yche quipped, smirking. "It gets all ominous once the sun sets. The occasional Grimm howl suddenly wakes you up in the middle of the night. Bandits show up, too - sometimes you wake up in a cold sweat and have to pick up your hammer, oohhh..." She was waving her hands, as if pretending to try to scare Reza, to which the blonde-haired girl responded with a sneer.
"Come on..."
They both knew that this was not what she was referring to.
Ashen suddenly led them to a sharp turn that got them to descend downhill. Here, the housing was even more shabby - most of the houses hardly looked like they were built over more than a few days, each. Interestingly enough - high-rise buildings, whom they last saw in the city centre, dotted the skyline here as well. Or, to be clearer, what remained of them - carcasses, partially stripped down of construction materials in order to be used for houses and shacks, towered above the streets like rusted, decayed guardians watching over their equally declined lands.
Their "guide" directed them towards one of these titans. The worn-down sign they passed along as they walked up a wide set of stairs informed that this was, supposedly, an ongoing construction project to provide the recent colonists of Mountain Glenn with cheap housing - yet, ultimately, it was abandoned for reasons that none of the four visitors knew. Still, even though most rooms in the carcass were no more than unfinished boxes of cement, people were living there. In fact, once they stepped into the corridors branching out from the wide-open entrance which, at some point, probably had a door, the sound of music immediately reached their ears. Someone strumming a guitar deeper in the building, perhaps. They passed by more people than usual, the chatting was rather lively, and signboards hanging above informed anyone walking past that they can find barbers, footwear repair, Dust bottles or anything else.
It was almost as if the building was turned into a street, densely packed with basic amenities for a neighbourhood so distant from the city centre - physically and socially.
It'd have been much easier to appreciate, however, if it wasn't for the noxious stench. A mix of burning Combustion Dust, tar and cement.
"This way," Ashen said and waved her hand, leading them towards a wide staircase downwards. Here, the corridors were a bit more kept and cleaner, but also far emptier. Huh, I wonder if he's even still here. Hopefully, he hasn't moved out since then... that'd be a problem. Suddenly, she raised her hand, forcing the rest of the team to come to a halt.
"Uh, we're here?" Firre asked. Their surroundings didn't seem any different - they were still in the middle of the lower floor, surrounded by doors and empty gaps, the faint muffled sound of guitar still reaching them from above.
"Yeah. I'll need you to wait here. I'll go down there first."
"What for?" Reza asked next.
"He... won't take it well if I don't explain what's happening first."
Ashen's eyes were focused on a narrow, poorly lit corridor branching off their own, a dozen meters away from them, with a singular door at the very end. Well... here goes nothing.
"Tellavel?"
Ashen's voice bounced around a small, cramped mechanic shop - a singular room which was probably intended as some sort of office in the original project, and was now filled to the brim with tools, instruments, and weapons hanging on the walls and scattered on the floor. You could hardly see a patch of the white featureless walls behind everything piled up and hanged. Entire bags of different kinds of Dust were laying in the corner - a workplace hazard, as someone careless could easily set them off and explode much of the building, but who was going to come here and check this shop for safety? A counter stood on the other side of the room, slightly less packed than everything else around it, and, to one's surprise, actually having a small patch of relatively empty wood to rest your hand's on.
A gaseous Dust lamp was hanging off the ceiling, illuminating the entire room in rich, slightly yellowed light.
A few seconds after Ashen stepped into the room, the lock on the door behind the counter began to turn. One, then another, and another. Finally, after the fourth one, it slowly opened, and an old man stepped out of the closet, approaching the counter. His beard had grown all the way to nipple level since the last time she had seen him, but he was still wearing the same simple dark tunic as he always did. Times may change, but his complete lack of fashion sense never will.
"...You."
Tellavel's voice was bitter and his tone was accusative, but Ashen did not flinch. It did get the faint smile on her face to drop, however.
"So, this is it, huh? You've finally come back to hand me over to your new Ranger friends, haven't you?" he gushed out, which got Ashen to sigh in frustration.
"I told you before, Tellavel - even if I want nothing to do with this life any longer, that doesn't mean I'm going to rat out any of you."
"Really? Then why are you here? After you left?"
She could tell that there was a lot of simmering disappointment behind that accusation. So, in response, she approached the counter. Instinctively, Tellavel backed away, but it proved unnecessary - all she did was tap her hands on the empty patch of the counter.
"Do you still keep track of who you're selling weapons to?"
"I... uh, in my mind, yes?"
"Your guns are making their way to the hands of some rather awful figures. Mantleans. Slave hunters. Because of actions of people like them, this whole kingdom's inching closer and closer to war - and you don't want to be known as someone who facilitated that, do you? You're a good criminal, who keeps his hands clean off these political affairs, are you not?"
With each veiled threat barraging him more and more, Tellavel raised his hands defensively. The last sentence pulled at his strings in particular and got him to immediately yell:
"What do you want from me, woman? What do you think I'll accomplish for you?"
"You will stay here," Ashen pointed at the old man's chest. "And when my friends come down here, you will cooperate. You won't say anything about where we know each other from, and why. Then, we can leave each other be, and go on our lives. Understand?"
After a second of pause, Tellavel released a frustrated sigh and lowered his hands. "Fine." Ashen nodded and turned around, but right as she reached for the grip of the exit door and leave, he spoke again. "...Seems you haven't changed since the days in Suchan at all, Ashen."
The gunsmith's words got her to pause, holding the grip with her hand and staring into it. "Sadly, not." She shook her head, as if shaking off an unwanted thought, and, after a stop, departed from the shop with a smile on her face.
"So, you're saying there's something suspicious about her?"
Faced with Firre's question, Reza suddenly stammered. "I-well... I don't want this to come off like I'm accusing her of anything. We're friends. But from what we've seen today, I think it is quite clear that she is way more than just someone who lived in Mountain Glenn before. I'm saying... she might have been involved with those "less polite classes"."
"You're talking crazy," Yche rebuffed her, resting her back onto one of the walls of the corridor. "Even I would make a better criminal than her."
The conversation got shut down when a voice suddenly called out to the trio from the distance - Ashen peeked out from the corner and waved with her hand, yelling:
"Heey, let's go!"
"Alright, let's see what we're dealing with," Firre blurbed and gestured to the two women to head first - he followed after them. Right as Yche stepped into the gunmaker's shop after Ashen, however, she stopped in the doorway, completely overtaken by awe. So many... so many... Some of the most intricate and coolest weapons she had ever laid her eyes upon, stacked on top of one another, filling the room to the brim - and she was there to witness all of it.
"Uh-hey, you're in the way, you know!" Reza called out. Only a push snapped Yche out of her trance and got her to give room to her two teammates.
"All right, team!" Ashen announced with enthusiasm, and pointed both of her hands to the unenthusiastic gunsmith behind the counter. "This is Tellavel - he was the one who built my first weapon! Really awesome guy - though, well, we're not here for an advertisement, so, the floor is to you."
Ashen turned her fingers to Firre - making sure to not mention him by name, just in case - and the prince, after a brief eyeroll, stepped forward.
"A few days ago, we stopped a group of Mantlean slave hunters while they were in the middle of trying to capture a... runaway slave. They were armed, and once we recovered their weapons, Ashen told us that they had to have been made by you. We wanted to ask you if you have sold those types of weapons to anyone recently, and if so, to whom."
Tellavel stared him down, then glanced through the rest of his and Ashen's team. If it were not a terrible idea, he might have cracked a smirk. So, little Ashen made a friend with the heir of Vale himself. Of course, he could recognise that white hair - did she think he would not?
So, he should be hospitable to the Prince himself.
"Show me one of those weapons, if you can."
Firre turned his eyes to Reza. She nodded, pulled her bag off her back and burrowed her hand into it, then pulled out the same revolver from before and handed it over to Tellavel. The gunsmith reached under the counter, pulling open a drawer and picking up a miniature monocular. With it, he inspected the side of the revolver and then peeked inside of the barrel. Occasionally, he smacked his lips, or grumbled a little - finally, however, he lowered his monocular and handed the weapon back, saying:
"I built this one three weeks ago. Got paid handsomely for it, too, and it was a large batch. But I am guessing that there were some hand-to-hand transfers afterwards to make them end up in the hands of these, uh... "slave hunters"."
"...What do you mean?" Firre asked.
"I sold those guns to the House of Trade. They told me that they needed to arm caravan guards, and so they reached out to me."
"The... House of Trade?"
An old and venerable institution, established in the very heart of Vale - for centuries, it served as a place for traders, merchants and businesses to congregate, share information, draft beneficial deals and agree on common interests in political affairs. They were mentioned during Father's meeting of advisors, too. The House was bitter about the closing of borders between Vale, Mantle and Mistral since the very beginning - it really cut into their profits. Still, it would have been crazy to think that they had a hand in this - the businesses united under the House had sworn loyalty to the Kingdom and promised to dedicate their resources to any hypothetical war effort.
"Wait a minute," Ashen suddenly spoke up. "Why would they be buying weapons from you? They're legal businesses. Why would they send someone to nowhere in Mountain Glenn to build guns for them? They have many more easily accessible legal gunsmiths for that."
Tellavel visibly shrugged. "The question crossed my mind too, but, at some point, money is money, and the context hardly matters."
"By the gods..." Yche forced out after a sigh, and placed her hand on her forehead. "Another layer to this... web?"
"...Yeah." Firre answered.
And, much like Yche, he felt a little exhausted, too. It was no reason to quit, though. He wasn't certain, but he could feel that he was grasping onto the right string in this web - puling onto which might just reveal what kind of conspiracy is brewing in this country.
But... how far did it go? When will they reach the final layer? Does it all really just lead to Mantle and Mistral, or are they looking at something else entirely?