Chapter 79

A City of Wild Dogs The basement was damp and dark. Windowless rooms lined the hallways, lit only by the weak candlelight that drifted through their iron bars. Each one contained nothing but a crude bed with musty sheets and a thin blanket for furniture, and the floor quickly chilled bare feet. Those confined in each room spent all their time on the bed, which was hardly comfortable. It was made of thin boards of wood that provided no warmth, and it was so small that turning in one’s sleep would cause its occupant to either kiss the wall or crash to the stone floor. The ceiling was also oppressively low. The darkness and the lack of space wore people down over time. The place had every appearance of a prison, but the people confined there were not technically convicted criminals. Not yet anyway. They had received no punishment beyond being placed in these cells, but that alone was bad enough, and their captors had no reason to treat them courteously. This facility, officially called the Sun Knight East End Law Enforcement Center, was located in the eastern part of Teran, the Labyrinth City. It was built nearly one hundred years ago during Labyrinth City’s rebuilding phase and had much history. At the time, Labyrinth City was a lawless zone with a lord who lacked power over the many ruffians who inhabited it. Knights deployed from distant cities despaired at the difficulty of maintaining public order and joined gangs instead, while adventurers frequently turned to banditry to stave off hunger. But as the city grew larger, the influence of the just Teran Lord and the city council expanded. The lord worked with the Sun Knights to entice bandits into the order, establish order by pardoning criminals and granting citizenship, and break up lawless gangs from the inside. A stronghold was built during this process to temporarily “safeguard” the people who betrayed the gangs of bandits and criminals—in other words, the ones who sided with the Labyrinth City government—and that stronghold was called the Law Enforcement Center. Those who knew its true use called it the Snake’s Nest, the Kennel, or the Center for Cowards out of contempt. The facility’s function hadn’t changed much in the last century, even now that any criminal gangs large enough to challenge the lord’s rule had been wiped out. It was used to hold suspects for crimes committed in Labyrinth City and safeguard people who became informants as part of plea bargains. Fewer people called it the Center for Cowards today, but those confined within rarely referred to it by its tediously long full name. They simply called it prison, and its rooms, cells. Not just anyone was confined in the East End Law Enforcement Center—only those who were involved with particularly violent crimes or serious magical terrorism. A guilty verdict was essentially guaranteed for every one of them. Despite that, one young man waited quietly on his crude bed. “Ah-ha-ha! What’re the odds you’d be tossed into the cell next to mine?! That’s freakin’ hilarious!” a man said from his neighboring cell. “Be quiet,” the young man snapped. His neighbor’s roaring laughter echoed down the hall and into every cell, causing other inmates to either perk up their ears with interest or cover their heads with their blankets in annoyance. He was clearly delighted by the young man’s arrival. “Oooh, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today.” “Do you really expect me to be happy here? Now, shut up.” The young man was in a very bad mood. He had black hair and a lean, muscular body. The shabby shirt and pants of the prisoners’ uniform suited him oddly well; the clothes and his intensely bitter glare created the quintessential image of a violent criminal. His neighbor continued to speak in a carefree manner. It was unclear if he was trying to comfort, mock, or both. “I’ve been so bored since my last neighbor moved out. You don’t wanna get used to being alone in this place.” “…What happens if you do?” the young man asked. “You start mutterin’ to yourself in the mirror.” “People do that outside of jail, too. And we don’t even have mirrors.” “They’ll give you one if you ask for it, but only once a day. They put it down outside the bars to prevent people from usin’ it to off themselves.” “…And people talk to the mirror through the bars?” “Some inmates like to try buildin’ morale for themselves as part of their morning routine. Y’know, ‘Hang in there, man! You’ve only got one month left!’ Stuff like that, which is fine on its own, but… Some folks hear the mirror talkin’ back. If havin’ a full-on conversation with a mirror isn’t proof that you’ve lost your marbles, I don’t know what is. Don’t let that happen to you, Nick.” “A mirror, huh…,” the young man named Nick muttered to himself. Something about the word caught his attention. It gave him a nostalgic feeling, as if he used to have someone who spoke to him when he was alone. His neighbor’s warning didn’t feel as eerie as it should have. “What’s the matter? Did I remind you of something?” “…Just stop talking already. You’re being too loud.” Unfortunately, the young man’s warning was too late. He watched as three large-bodied prison guards laughed joyfully and stomped down the hall toward his cell. “Don’t stop talking on our account, Leon! Continue your friendly chat—if you can!” a guard taunted. “Heh-heh! It’s been a while since we’ve had anyone in here with some backbone!” The guards lined up before the two cells—Nick’s and Leon’s—smiling and holding dangerous-looking metal rods. “Oh, goddamn it,” the young man cursed, starting to sweat. The prison guards didn’t beat the inmates directly. Labyrinth City was a place where adventurers could live and work freely despite their violent occupation, but there was a respect for the law rooted in its people. Not even the guards of the East End Law Enforcement Center, where the inmates were guaranteed to be convicted, would beat someone with a metal rod for fun. They had no qualms about getting creative and harassing them in other ways, however. “You guys ready?” “Hell yeah!” The guards lifted their rods without opening either of the cell doors. The young man looked confused, as if he had expected a thrashing. His expression quickly turned to comprehension and distress. “Hi-yah!” a guard shouted, clanging his metal rod against the bars and causing a cacophonous echo. “Urgh… That’s loud!” the young man complained, clapping his hands over his ears. “They call this ‘jailhouse drumming,’ a longtime staple here at the East End Law Enforcement Center. It’s used to scare the shit outta prisoners and make it difficult for us to speak to each other,” Leon explained, smiling as he covered his ears. “Looks like you still feel like talking! We need more volume, boys!” “Clang clang, you crooks! Get ready for your questioning!” “Someone get a flute and gong! Sing! Dance!” The rods thundered against the bars with one earsplitting clang after another. It felt less like sound and more like an assault of powerful vibrations. The guards were striking the bars so hard, the young man feared his eardrums really would rupture. His obvious discomfort only encouraged them. “Ah-ha-ha! Come on, man, join in on the fun! It won’t last that long!” the tigerian next door yelled, kicking the wall between their cells. “How the hell do you expect me to enjoy this?!” the young man screamed, responding with an angry kick of his own. “Dance, dance! That’s all you scum can do!” The knights continued to give the bars all they had. The other inmates reacted in varied ways—some pulled their blankets over their heads in annoyance, some started enthusiastically banging their own walls and singing, and some were mystifyingly able to shut out the noise and sleep. This was where music began in ancient times, when there was no boundary between the wild enthusiasm of battle and song. The prison swelled with excitement. Someone began to guffaw at the absurdity of it all. And just when the young man started wondering if some kind of drug had been slipped into his food, a cold voice sliced through the cacophony. “Stop this right now, or I’ll cut your pay!” The knights froze. Leon sensed it was time to stop dancing and sat cross-legged on his bed. “Alice,” the young man said, irritation clear in his voice. “It’s been a while. How do you like your new quarters?” the new arrival asked, her steps echoing off the floor as she walked up to his cell. She was a beautiful blue-haired woman wearing a white cloak that suited her well. “Best hotel I’ve ever stayed at. The room service even includes musicians. Mind if I go take a shower, too?” the young man joked. “That depends on your behavior. Be a good boy, and I might reward you,” the woman named Alice responded. “Inmate number 54988, Nick. It’s time for your interrogation.” Alice snapped her fingers, and one of the guards opened his cell door. Nick rolled his neck and shoulders, massaged his joints, and stood up. “I’m surprised you’ve remained so tough after all you’ve been through,” Alice praised him, impressed by his calm—or at least outwardly calm—demeanor. “I’m more worried about what’s coming up. Let’s go,” Nick said. “That’s the first time an inmate has ever rushed me to an interrogation. It’s this way,” Alice said, leading him down the hall. “Come and see me again,” Leon called out. “Not gonna happen,” Nick responded. “Suit yourself. I have a feelin’ we’re gonna meet again. Something’s startin’. I don’t know what it is, but I know one thing for sure—it ain’t gonna be over anytime soon.” Nick ignored Leon’s ominous words as he walked away. The history of the Holy Kingdom of Dineez—the country in which Teran was located—was considerably long. The nation was founded after the Demon God War by the survivors of an ancient civilization that had been destroyed during the conflict. Most ancient magic and technology had been lost in the war, but the people worked hard to rebuild as much of society as they could. The majority of what they recovered had very little direct relation to war, as the demon god had been thorough in stamping out any and all military technology. One thing that the demon god and their armies had ignored was music. A great many instruments that did not utilize magic items or mana survived, and a variety of magical instruments and sound generators were remade using new styles in Labyrinth City, where musicians worked together to write new music. Another survivor was food culture. Items that could be preserved, such as fermented foods, alcohol, vinegar, and packaged foods, survived the wreckage, and people studied these commodities to learn how to reproduce them. Technology for agriculture and rearing livestock was reproduced without much difficulty, thanks to the knowledge having been passed down in the Sanctuary of Baer, the god of harvest. Changes in vegetation and climate and an increase of monster habitats—known as labyrinths—meant that farmers had to adapt, but the culture remained. While much in society had to be reproduced or changed in this manner after the war, one thing remained almost entirely unaltered from the ancient civilization—law. Or at least there was little change to the ethics on which the letter of the law was based. “Long story short, they saved me. The viewpoint that I am a magic item in the possession of the Adventurers Guild ignores my right to self-determination! It is an insult and totally unacceptable!” A number of men and women were sitting on either side of a cold, white table in a room so clean and spacious, it was hard to believe it was in the same building as the cells. Sun Knights sat on the far side of the room with Alice at their center. The blue-haired woman smiled while the others watched emotionlessly. Nick was sitting at the center of the table on the side by the door. He leaned back in his chair with his feet crossed, looking defiantly relaxed despite his prisoners’ clothes. The people sitting on either side of Nick did not adopt the same attitude, however, and were in fact staring at the knights with active hostility. No one was more worked up than the silver-haired boy sitting next to him, who had slammed his fist on the table and yelled with such vigor, it was a surprise that spittle didn’t fly from his mouth. “Calm down, Bond,” Nick said. “How could I possibly calm down?!” the silver-haired boy—Bond—yelled back. When he was angry, he resembled Nick enough that they could have been brothers, with Bond the younger by about six years. Alice shrugged in exasperation. “Let’s review. The Survivors are accused of ignoring the request of their client, the Adventurers Guild, to deliver a holy sword to them, and consequently of concealing an ancient weapon. But you’re claiming this interpretation of the situation is unfair?” “Quite so. I, the Sword of Bonds, requested their help. The Adventurers Guild has no right to treat me as their property. Following the guild’s request to the letter would have been legally and morally wrong,” Bond said with a firm nod. Bond looked like a young boy, but he was actually an ancient superweapon called the Sword of Bonds, which could perform a powerful forgotten spell called Union. “Still, was saying nothing of that and giving the guild a counterfeit sword really the best move?” Alice responded. Nick and his party, the Survivors, had once accepted a request from the Adventurers Guild to explore a labyrinth and search for the Sword of Bonds. When they finally found Bond, however, he insisted he didn’t want to be given away to the guild—the organization that shut him in that labyrinth in the first place—and practically forced his way into the party. The Survivors had then submitted a sword that looked identical to the Sword of Bonds to the guild with the intent of fooling them. Naturally, the other sword’s power came nowhere close to matching the real thing. An accusation of fraud would have real weight behind it, but Bond just laughed confidently. “That is not a counterfeit. It is a genuine Sword of Bonds. If the guild wanted me and not one of the many other copies that were made, they should have specified my serial number and version,” he said. “Do the rest of you believe yourselves to be free of guilt, too?” Alice asked, looking at the other Survivors in turn. One of them, a petite woman with blond hair, shrugged. “All we did was help a boy in difficult circumstances. Does he look like anything other than a person to you? We had no idea he was the sword the guild was asking for,” she said. A young man with chestnut hair sitting next to her nodded. “That is right. He was all alone in that dangerous place—anyone in our shoes would have chosen to shelter him. It may sound like we were trying to do a good deed, but I thought it was simply the commonsense thing to do.” “Hmm. Tiana and Zem, are you both claiming you had no idea he was a holy sword? Even though he could transform into one?” Alice asked. The woman named Tiana answered, her smile frozen on her face. “Perhaps some people can transform into swords, and perhaps some swords can transform into people. How were we to know which he was? You don’t learn that kind of magic in school. It was beyond our understanding. And what options are there for a boy with no relatives or identification other than working as an adventurer?” The young man named Zem adopted the same smile as Tiana. “If you want to call us careless for recommending the risky career of adventuring to a young boy…I would accept that criticism without argument. But I do not believe it is right to condemn us for deciding not to treat him like treasure to be sold. Do you not think so?” “So you all see the Sword of Bonds as a party member through and through. I would have liked to ask your other party member about this as well, but…I’ll trust you on that,” Alice said. A shadow fell over the faces of Nick and his party members. The Survivors were an adventurers’ party with five members. They consisted of a light warrior, a swordsman, a mage, a cleric, and one more person—a dragonian warrior—who was unfortunately unable to attend. “Yeah, he’s one of us. And that’s all there is to it,” Nick said curtly. Alice nodded. “I understand your reasoning for the Sword of Bonds. But how do you explain the Sword of Evolution?” That question made the Survivors anxious. They had come across four holy swords since forming the party. One was Bond, who was in this room. Two more were living as citizens of Labyrinth City. The problem was the other one. “This is where our argument turns technical. Bond and I will explain everything, if you don’t mind,” said a beautiful woman who was sitting in the dragonian’s place. The expression on their face clearly suggested a belief that they were a member of the team. The woman was wearing a suit with a badge shaped like a set of scales—proof that a person was certified as a lawyer in the Holy Kingdom of Dineez. Their name was Redd, and they were both a lawyer and the mistress of Zem’s favorite drinking hole. They were so beautiful, you would never have known they were cross-dressing. “If I may. The law dictates that artifacts of spirit class and above must be stored in buildings stable enough to survive disasters on a continental scale. The Survivors also sealed it with a ritual spell and reported directly to the Teran Lord. Law also requires confidentiality surrounding artifacts of spirit class and above, which would explain why no other organizations were informed. Discussing administrative measures and documents won’t bring us to any sort of conclusion, but given the risk of the Sword of Evolution causing destruction again, we have little choice. The Sword of Evolution was sealed voluntarily and cannot be submitted as property, meaning there are no legal issues with regards to the Survivors’ actions. I brought all the paperwork to prove everything has been filed correctly. Artifact possession inspections are exhausting for everyone involved, so are you sure you want to do this?” Redd removed papers from a binder and spread them neatly on the table. That was just the beginning—Tiana and Zem then set cardboard boxes on the table, each packed with documents. “…You weren’t lying about having a lawyer who works at a cross-dressing bar,” Alice said, looking at Nick in disbelief. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if Redd was actually a lawyer when I said that,” Nick admitted. “Hey! Rude! I’m hurt!” Redd said, glaring at Nick. “Can you blame me? You spend practically all your time serving booze at your bar!” “I’m perfectly capable of keeping up with my studies as I work. Talking to customers is no great distraction.” “Like that makes any sense,” Nick retorted, then decided to stop talking before he gave anything away. The claim they reported to the Teran Lord about sealing the Sword of Evolution was more than a little flimsy. When Nick was arrested by the Sun Knights, Tiana and the others quickly got to work. They had asked for help from Redd, a lawyer, and the idol Diamond, who was a client of theirs, and the two of them quickly put together a defense team for Nick. Redd was the only member of the team present now, but a longtime lawyer of Diamond’s and the Teran Lord’s administrative staff had also worked hard for his release. During that process, the team had determined the decision of what to do with the Sword of Evolution fell into a gray area of law. The sword had been in Leon’s possession when they caused destruction in the city. The Survivors had stopped them and sealed the sword in an undisclosed location, but they all could have been easily charged with punishing a criminal without due legal process or stealing an ancient relic. Bond had an excuse, unlike the others. As the Sword of Bonds, he had the essential duty of stopping other holy swords that had grown violent. Looking the other way would have gone against the code of ethics he had been installed with. His code of ethics did not, however, require him to tell the whole truth to the Holy Kingdom of Dineez, the Teran Lord, or the Order of the Sun Knights. Nick’s legal team took advantage of that and rushed to gather documents to make sure their story added up. Why did Bond refuse to be given to the Adventurers Guild? Why did they fight the Sword of Evolution? Was the Sword of Evolution sealed safely? Did they have proof that they hadn’t sold it or weren’t using it illegally? Redd and the team worked hard to answer all these questions and get him released. “I’m going to miss you here, Nick. Feel free to stay the night whenever you want. I’ll leave your room unlocked for you,” Alice teased. “If you give me room service on par with a three-star hotel, sure,” Nick responded bitterly. “You knew how this would turn out all along, didn’t you? I have no desire to prolong it any longer than necessary,” Redd interrupted. “Hmph…” “If you were really serious about arresting Nick, you wouldn’t have brought his whole party into this room and questioned them all at once. I don’t think you ever intended to keep him here.” “Yeah. It would’ve been a problem if you overexerted yourself now, Nick,” Alice said. Nick frowned, wondering what she meant. “Are you trying to tell me that the real trouble has yet to begin?” “You’re free to go, Nick. But Leon was right—we’re going to meet again. We share a common foe,” Alice said. Nick ended up here after an incident involving a man named Garos, who was a member of his old party, Combat Masters. Garos was Nick’s senior in the party and his mentor as an adventurer, but he had turned out to be an assassin working for demon-god worshippers. Around the same time Garos began behaving suspiciously, Combat Masters and its leader, Argus, all vanished from Labyrinth City, making it natural to assume they were all involved with demon-god worshippers, too. Nick had been in the process of offering a bounty for Argus at the Adventurers Guild when Alice grabbed him and brought him here. “I’m gonna catch Argus. I was about to put a bounty on his head when you stopped me,” Nick said. “I saved you from wasting your money. They’ve already decided to post one for him. The government will foot the bounty, so there’s no need for you to pay for it out of pocket. We both want the same thing—to discover the truth and capture demon-god worshippers.” “Thanks a lot. But that’s not my goal.” “What is, then?” “…I just want to help my friend. Nothing else matters.” Alice’s expression turned strict. “If you’re gonna be that distracted by a friend’s illness, you should call it quits now. We’re fighting enemies who won’t hesitate to kill or curse people to accomplish their goals. You’ll only get in the way if you fight without a firm resolve.” Her words made Nick angry for a second, but a part of him had to admit she was right. If someone asked if he was currently capable of defeating the enemy, he’d have to say no. Something was missing. “…You know, you’re probably right about that. It must be tough, then, working with people who spend all day waiting for their next bribe,” Tiana jabbed. It wasn’t uncommon for Sun Knights to take money and turn a blind eye to wrongdoing. Alice didn’t flinch. “You’re not wrong. People who make a living by fighting are going to start dropping like flies, no matter where they work. I suggest we all prepare ourselves,” she said sharply. Prisons such as this one didn’t exist just to lock up and intimidate criminals; their greater purpose was to protect their inmates from further temptations or dangers that could lead to death or depravity. A prisoner might have friends on the outside, but there were also dangers lurking in the dark. This was not an official hospital. It featured around-the-clock treatment of injuries and illnesses from priests, doctors, and their assistants, but the facility hadn’t been built for that purpose. The patients were all people who had difficulty going out in public, including idols who were plagued by stalkers or people in highly confidential jobs who couldn’t risk going to a public hospital. It was for them that this facility had been established underneath a concert venue called Starmine Hall. “It’s this way,” said a girl with pink hair after greeting the Survivors and leading them inside. Her tracksuit made her look like a student without a care in the world, but there was a shocking lightness to her movements. “Thanks for this,” Nick said. “Hmm-hmm. Not just any man can lay claim to having the most famous idol in the land wrapped around his little finger. You’re a real lady-killer,” she said, doing a twirl. The girl was the most popular idol in Jewelry Production, the idol agency that built Starmine Hall, and also its behind-the-scenes boss. On top of all that, she was also a holy sword called the Sword of Resonance and was hundreds of years old. Her name was Hibiki Diamond. “You wrapped around my finger? You’ve been manipulating us this whole time. You might have gotten me out of prison, but I still resent you for everything that’s happened,” Nick responded. Tiana, Zem, and Bond had filled Nick in on Karan’s actions and her thinking behind them on the way here. She had predicted exactly where Garos was going to attack and made sure Nick wouldn’t be there—a decision Diamond had agreed with and offered her full support. “As long as you don’t resent Karan, feel free to resent me all you want. That’s part of my job, after all,” Diamond said. “…I can’t promise that. I don’t know what you filled her head with, but Karan’s a full-fledged adventurer and a member of our party. Only she and her leader can bear responsibility for her actions.” Nick clenched his fists. He was admonishing himself as much as anyone else. “It wouldn’t hurt to rely more on others,” Diamond said softly. “Are you talking about Karan?” Nick asked. “No. I’m talking about you,” she replied. The group fell silent, their rhythmic steps the only sound as they walked through the facility. Diamond led them to a clean and modest room. There were no windows because it was underground, so magic lamps provided light. The room consisted of a strange box set against a wall and a white pipe-frame bed. A red-haired girl in a white hospital gown was lying on the mattress. She sat up and smiled softly when they entered. “Hey, Karan. Sorry I haven’t been able to visit until now,” Nick said. “You should be. What kind of leader gets themselves thrown in prison?” the girl—Karan—said with a laugh. Karan didn’t look directly at Nick as she spoke. She wasn’t being unfriendly—her eyesight had simply deteriorated to the point that she couldn’t find him in the room. Her bright eyes had become hazy, and she had clearly lost weight. She lacked the strength to see clearly or even get out of bed. It wasn’t long ago that Karan had been the most vibrant member of the Survivors. Her tremendous skill as she fought on their front line always impressed other adventurers. It hurt Nick to see her like this, but he pushed those emotions away to avoid letting them show on his face. “Oh, you got a haircut,” Nick noticed. “Is it weird?” Karan asked. “No, it looks good.” “Hee-hee.” “They left my hair alone, thankfully. I thought they were gonna shave me like a monk.” “I would’ve liked to see that, personally.” “Don’t say that. That place was hell already. Imagine having Leon as your neighbor—the guy never shuts up.” “You should learn how to keep a cooler head.” “I’m working on it.” “Now, that I don’t believe,” Karan said, looking away in a huff. Nick laughed resignedly, which elicited a small smile from the dragonian. “…I know I don’t look great right now, but I’ll get better soon,” she said, looking as bright and cheerful as ever. It was clear she was trying hard to be her normal self. “I just need a little rest. Don’t worry about me.”