"Those people who attacked your team...do you remember anything about them?"
It was the first thing he asked when the car began moving again.
"Hm?"
"Anything. Their faces, their clothes, their insignia."
Ignoring the pang of unease, she racked her brain. The details gradually returned to her, though the memory itself was fuzzy.
She remembered people in black and that odd explosive device that caused a bright blue flash. The thunderous noise. Her teammates' screams. The blow to the back of her head.
"All I know...is that they were wearing black and had a symbol on their uniforms."
She tried to visualize the shapes, tracing them with her finger in the air.
"It looked like a bird, but its wings were...thin. And I think the head was just a skull? Like...an eagle, but dead."
He didn't answer at first, and for a second, she wondered if he even heard her.
But then his expression changed, for the first time, not into a grimace, but something akin to silent fury. The car slowed down before coming to a stop, and he killed the engine.
"Yuuno-san?"
He must have known, and her heart thumped. If he knew, then there was a good chance that...
He didn't say anything as his eyes darted left and right. The sign ahead told her that going straight would take them to the city. It was still miles away.
Below it was a more ominous-looking one.
The skull and the arrow pointing left, into a considerably narrower road, marked with signs warning them of hostile territory ahead.
His eyes moved from the road ahead to the left, and finally, to her.
"Do you know why I asked?"
Did she? Maybe.
Maybe not.
"I can...make a guess."
She could've sworn he flinched.
"What do you want?"
"Huh?"
"I'm going to ask you one last time, and I need you to be honest with me. Your team, or your own life?"
It was not a question. It was a choice.
She closed her eyes. What would Nanoha-mama and Fate-mama do in this situation? She would no doubt try to rescue them, no matter what. But they were strong. Even when their magic was sealed, they would find a way.
They had always found a way.
That girl, Olga, dreamed of a place beyond the walls, with plenty of food and a peaceful place.
It was a place she could return to.
And she would really want to escape this nightmare, too. Go back to Einhalt, Rio, Corona, and Miura.
But her teammates were somewhere.
And if she didn't do something...
What would her mamas say?
Will she ever be able to look them in the eye again, knowing she'd given up?
The answer was simple, even if it hurt.
"My team."
A dry laugh.
That was the first time she heard him laugh like that.
But what was there to laugh at?
She wasn't naive. She knew the atrocities that people could inflict upon each other. She never bore witness to such things, not until she joined the Bureau, where her job required her to learn about such things.
He must be thinking that she had thought that if things went south, she would be treated kindly.
If he did, then he was sorely mistaken.
If he truly wanted to protect her, then...
He must not let her go home bearing the guilt of having abandoned her teammates.
He turned the key, the engine roaring back to life, and the car accelerated into the narrow road, the wheels kicking up dust.
The narrow path was flanked by rocks, and the trees grew denser. The air grew thicker and hotter.
Not too far from the fork, there was a concrete building, surrounded by barbed wire, rusty and twisted. More armed men in uniforms, but they were not hostile.
One of them approached, waving his hand, then winced when he noticed him.
"Ranger. What are you doing here?"
"Crown business. Stand aside."
"And...she? Unarmed...and not one of us. I'm sorry, but..."
"It's Crown business," he said, his voice firmer. "Let us through."
The man hesitated. "If you say so, Ranger."
The car moved only a little past that checkpoint before he told her to come out.
"What?"
"Better not take the car marked with the Royalist insignia," he explained, taking the bag out of the trunk. "This is the last safe outpost. From here on out, it's all hostile territory. So if you need anything, make sure you have it."
The compound, as she noticed in a glance, was smaller than the one before, and the soldiers looked a bit worse for wear, but she supposed that was normal. There was a store that he went to. It was filled with a small selection of items, mostly food and water, some medicine and basic equipment, and weapons.
The shopkeeper was an elderly woman with a scowl that rivaled the Ranger's, and she regarded her with no more warmth, especially when she noticed Chris hovering by.
"What are you taking an outsider for, boy?"
"Crown business," he replied curtly. "Nothing else."
The old woman grumbled something unintelligible, save for "you and your crown business excuses."
But she let him buy things without further question.
Left with nothing to do, Vivio studied the poster hanging on the wall.
It depicted a regal-looking woman leading a battalion of armored troops on horseback, a flag billowing behind her, and a saber strapped to her hip.
Not stern, but determined, her eyes staring ahead and promising a better future.
The banner bore the symbol of the royalists, and for a while, she thought she was seeing her Fate-mama.
She was beautiful, even with grime and mud on her face and boots.
Was she the woman he called "Her Majesty?"
The one who ordered the summary execution of slavers?
Vivio couldn't imagine her being the same woman who ordered someone to be shot without a trial.
That was...murder.
The TSAB, even when they had their enemies, had never done something like that.
It was not justice.
It was just...
Her head hurt.
"Vivio. Let's go."
She looked at him, and she wondered what he'd say if she told him that the woman was the spitting image of Fate-mama.
Or even her misgivings.
Would he dismiss her? Or would he listen?
Or would he just tell her to focus on the present and not the past?
But she didn't. Instead, she followed him and said nothing.
The checkpoint guards nodded at them as they left the compound, and they were back into the wilderness.
They were on foot, and he warned her that the road might be rigged.
Keep your eyes open and your wits about you.
She was not given a weapon. A relief, but also a concern.
She remembered being told that she wasn't prepared for this world. Was he...prepared to shoulder the burden alone, even if she were willing to help him?
That thought did not sit well.
"Whatever happened, don't transform," he said, pausing when he looked at her.
"Why?"
Somehow, she felt it was not about making a scene.
He drew and exhaled, a long, weary sigh.
"Anti-magic technology is one thing..."
His eyes narrowed, and she could sense a cold fury.
"...But they pale in comparison to the fact that this planet is inherently, naturally hostile to any form of magic."
"Wha—"
"Transform, and your power will burn out fast, and the backlash will leave you a sitting duck. Don't do that. Just stay close."
And without saying anything more, he went on ahead, leaving her reeling in shock.
Nature hostile to magic?
How?
Why?
She didn't want to test the theory, even if Chris was still functioning normally.
He paused after a few paces and reached down for his boots.
"Vivio."
She snapped her attention, and her gaze fell on the knife strapped to his ankle.
"Here," he said, unsheathing it and holding it out to her. "Take it. It's harder to kill someone with a knife than with a gun. You..."
He sized her up, and she didn't miss his grimace.
"...have the skills. You know Strike Arts, and you have excellent conditioning. In close quarters, you'll have a chance. Strike their arms, and they won't be able to fight back. As long as you can sneak past them, you will be safe. They rely on guns, so they won't see you coming."
The knife was large, its glistening blade clean...but she knew it had drawn blood.
It had a black leather sheath, and the hilt was a strange, dull green color, and the guard was made of what appeared to be some kind of metal.
And it was heavy.
Heavier than it looked, but it was not a matter of weight, but the sheer gravity of having been entrusted with it.
He looked away, but he wasn't done talking. His voice grew heavier.
"There is another use for it. I hope you don't have to. I really hope you won't have to."
She didn't want to process what he was trying to say. But her mind was already making a connection.
The implication.
The last thing she wanted him to see was her faltering, and she held onto the knife, forcing herself to keep her chin up.
Even if her chest was screaming.