Zagi still couldn’t breathe, even after Eleonora removed her leg. He also finally realized, listening to the bizarre conversation going on, that the child really did hold all the power. He was also relieved to realize that the child didn’t want to kill him—at least, not right away.
From the abilities this Eleonora had already displayed, it was clear than even if the other guards or Night Fangs members were here, they wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on her. Zagi could see the best of their bodyguards from where he was on the ground: a former Rank C adventurer, who now had a big sword wound right in the chest.
My only way out of this is to buy some time for the boss to get here, Zagi thought. Hopefully, the “boss,” the one behind not only this organization but all the activities that went down in the shadows of Niakki, would come to sort this situation out. Zagi had already sensed the presence of one of the boss’s familiars; he was sure that the boss himself would show up. The only issue was whether his arrival came before or after Zagi was dead.
“Ngh . . . so? What do you want? Were you paid to do this? Is it the drugs? Don’t tell me, this is about revenge?”
“The last one. Revenge. But we’re here on behalf of someone else.”
At this reply, Zagi felt something of a surge of hope. There was still a chance if they weren’t here for personal revenge.
When it came to revenge, most didn’t think in regular terms of risks and rewards. If money or women were going to make them think twice, they wouldn’t be the sort to go against a crime boss in the first place. But the fact that they were here on behalf of someone else meant there was hope.
“What did they give you? Money? We can match it. Beat it. Why don’t you change to our side?”
“No, thank you. We’ll help ourselves to your money once we’ve killed you.”
“What?!” Zagi shouted. “Hold on! I thought you were here for revenge?!”
“That’s right. All your money and your entire organization will be a little bonus.” Vandal’s voice was still emotionless, empty.
Zagi shuddered a little at his words. If what he was saying was true, it meant Zagi was going to die after all. He still didn’t understand any of this.
“Hold on—who are you here to avenge? This has to be some kinda misunderstanding! I’m not saying I’m a good guy—but I don’t kill without cause. Only to survive. Everyone I’ve killed was a bad guy! We have our code, even in the shadows—”
“If you are lying, you will suffer for it.”
Of course, Vandal knew that Zagi was lying. The spirits of Zagi’s men who they had already killed were spilling all sorts of beans.
“About whom we are here to avenge,” Vandal continued. “Do remember a tavern called the Scarlet Dream?”
“What—are you talking about?” Zagi tilted his head. That name rang no bells for him at all.
“We’re here to avenge a woman who was swindled by a bard and conman who used to sing at that tavern fifteen years ago.”
“What? What the hell? Fifteen years ago?! A swindler? Why are you coming to avenge something as petty as that?! Are you that stupid—gwah!” Zagi’s eyes were wide with disbelief at what he was hearing when Eleonora kicked him in the side again.
“Watch your mouth, you pile of mucus,” Eleonora said.
Zagi rolled on the ground, spitting up blood. Then he heard Vandal speaking again.
“Maybe I can explain. It was earlier today . . . ”
Something big was going to happen.
Mother Milan had been a fortuneteller in Niakki for a long, long time. Tonight, she was sure of this particular fortune. Her Job was Medium, and she was a good one. Anyone with her level of talent would have been able to tell something was up.
“There you are. You’ve been bad for business, boy.” She was speaking to the new customer coming into her small establishment.
“What do you mean?” The boy in question had silver hair and a patch over his eye.
Mother Milan’s wrinkled face split into a smile at his question. “Are you asking if I knew you were coming? Or why you’ve been bad for business? I would think you can work out the answers to both of those. You’ve taken away every spirit in the town, right down to the mice and bugs. What’s a Medium like me meant to do, eh? With all those spirits following you around, I’d have noticed you from miles away.” As a Medium herself, Mother Milan could see the large number of spirits gathered around Vandal. Hundreds, even thousands of them, flocking like insects around him. She was amazed his sanity was intact.
“Some of the spirits told me that you know about the past here,” Vandal told her.
“Maybe. I’m an elf, and I’ve lived a long time.” Mother Milan dropped her hood to reveal her pointy ears. “Not that I’m really hiding it. It’s just that being a mysterious old woman who’s been wrinkled for decades gets me more work if I’m just an old elf.”
It seemed that the atmosphere of a fortuneteller’s shop was important, even in a world where one could actually talk to the dead.
“What do you need to know?” she chirped. “I don’t make a living from selling information, but I can give you a story or two on the cheap.”
A Medium could tell a few fortunes and talk to the dead, but it wasn’t all that much use apart from solving the odd murder or receiving reports from spies killed in the line of duty. Older spirits had bad memories and shattered personalities, so they tended to fixate on things from life or lose all memories other than the object of their spite before they faded away. This could happen in only a few days. At most, they lasted a few decades.
Even if they maintained their memories and personality, spirits could still lie. In the past, criminal investigations that relied on Mediums had led to innocent people being executed. If the victim was related to the killer, they might protect the culprit, even in death.
However, Mother Milan was herself an elf with a 500-year lifespan. She remembered the past and remembered the things spirits had told her.
“I need you tell me what happened to Princess Lebia from Talosheim and her retinue approximately 200 years ago.”
“How do you know about that?” Mother Milan asked. “Do you have dealings with that kingdom of giantlings? Ah, no, maybe I won’t ask.”
“I can tell you, if you like,” Vandal offered.
“I think not. The spirits around you look quite angry. I’m not sure you’ll like what I have to tell you, but please, don’t shoot this old messenger.”
According to Milan, the tunnel in the Boundary Mountains had been found 200 years and some decades ago by Duke Heartner, a militaristic and passionate believer in Vida. He therefore proactively sought out trade with Talosheim, a country of giantlings who worshipped Vida as well. This trade brought wealth to his domain, changing the impression of him as an earthy man of battle to a man skilled in economics and politicking, greatly increasing his standing with the people.
However, his successor was a devout follower of Alda. He believed that it was Alda, the victor in the battle between the two, who could provide protection in battle, not Vida, the loser. That wouldn’t have been a problem if he followed the conciliatory precepts, but his adherence to them was just a front. In truth, he was a hardline fundamentalist.
He wasn’t a fanatic, however. He was also a shrewd ruler. Trade with Talosheim had many benefits, so he kept the arrangement going. Personally, he hated it, but he kept that to himself.
That was when it happened: the Milg Shield Kingdom’s invasion of Talosheim. The new duke took advantage of this situation. When Talosheim requested aid, he stalled his reply, and let them get wiped out. He said he would take in the Princess Lebia and the 500 she brought with her, but that was also a lie.
He poisoned her guards, and then framed the princess for planning to murder him and take the domain for herself, leading to her execution. As a result, he obtained all sorts of treasures that Talosheim had wanted to keep from the Milg, including a box that could hold an infinite inventory. He packed off the remaining kids and elderly giantlings to the mines as criminal slaves.
The town that had served as the portal to trade with Talosheim, where the people knew the giantlings best, was abandoned. It could no longer serve as a trade city anyway, as there was no one to trade with. The tunnel had been filled in, meaning there was no worry about Milg continuing the attack beyond Talosheim. As a result, Duke Heartner got the treasures of Talosheim and hundreds of new laborers, without having to lose a single fighting man. That worked out incredibly in his favor, to say one possible alternative was sending in their own forces to aid Talosheim and losing them all.
“But I thought what happened to Talosheim was used as justification for the war between the Olbaum Electorate Kingdom and the Amidd Empire,” Vandal said. If what Mother Milan was saying was true, a few other things Vandal had been told didn’t add up, especially the part about going to war to avenge Talosheim.
But Mother Milan simply shrugged. “Boy, I’m just a Medium. I can tell you what the dead tell me. I don’t make assumptions, and I don’t do investigations. What I can tell you is that only a handful of folks know the truth: those of the ducal household, their aides, the top Olbaum brass at the time, and perhaps no one else. They could easily set up a substitute for the princess to deceive the people and then, once the war ended, say she died of sickness.” Mother Milan shook her head. “Even an old lady like me can think of a way to make it work.” There were fewer giantlings than humans in the world, perhaps, but there were still a reasonable number living in Olbaum. It wouldn’t have been too hard to find a convincing substitute for the princess. Lebia was well known in Talosheim, of course, but in the Olbaum Electorate Kingdom as a whole, only a few would have known her real face. Meanwhile, public attention would have been on the fighting and its outcome. People would have accepted that the poor refugees had arrived and probably not questioned things beyond that—or had the means to confirm it themselves. What Milan suggested sounded possible with enough high-ranking individuals working together.