Meanwhile, Nikki seemed utterly disinterested in him. She gazed fondly at her tankard, pouring and gulping down drink after drink.
“I…”
“We’re a charming bunch, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’ll need to know more than just your names.”
“Mmm. As in, what we can do. Whether we can help grant you your wish. This is what you want to know?”
“And what you do, or what you used to do, that sort of thing…”
“Let’s just say we are engaged in a rather special line of work.”
“You’re not soldiers?”
“This is but a temporary guise. The truth is─we are artists.”
“Except, we’re actually just thieves,” corrected Nikki.
Jarratt’s huge frame rocked with laughter. Bernhardt leveled the young woman with a reproachful look.
“‘Thieves’─how atrocious. Am I not always telling you to at the very least refer to ourselves as being ‘outlaws’? Add ‘glorious’ before it and all the better. Glorious outlaws.”
“Sorry, hold on. You’re thieves?”
“Yeah. Glorious thieves,” replied Nikki.
“Not thieves, outlaws. Glorious outlaws!”
“Except in your case, boss, maybe ‘small-time crook’ is more like it.”
Jarratt cackled with laughter, and Klaus muttered after him, “Or ‘dingy ex-soldier.’”
“Soldier? You said those are temporary guises, but you used to be in the military?”
“A lifetime ago, yes.” Bernhardt shrugged. “I used to be in the Military Police Brigade.”
“Military Police Brigade? The Military Police Brigade?”
Only the highest achievers from the Training Corps were able to join them. What was a member of that elite group doing as a thief?
“Got caught, didn’t he,” Nikki divulged with a mischievous grin. “Rerouting supplies to the black market, turning a blind eye to smuggling.”
Bernhardt snorted. “It’s my policy not to dwell on the past.”
“Right… I suppose there are all those stories, of corruption in the Brigade.” Mathias examined the mustached soldier, Bernhardt, with renewed appreciation. It was the first time he’d met a true-to-life corrupt soldier.
“I do find ‘corruption’ such a distasteful word. I was a little more pliable than most, that is all.”
“So the rest of you are all people he got to know during his…”
“Yup,” Nikki spoke up. “In exchange for the odd gift here and there, Bernhardt kindly turned a blind eye to our activities.”
“Or gave us the times and locations of new shipments,” contributed Jarratt.
They really were outlaws. The kind of people who saw fit to steal other people’s possessions and to sell on the goods for profit. It was obvious they couldn’t be trusted. They absolutely couldn’t be trusted… But Mathias was looking for troops of dubious moral character who would be open to bribery. If anyone was suitable for the task at hand, it was them.
“Is it okay for you to just…come out and tell me you’re outlaws?”
“We would have told you eventually. Let’s just say we’ve saved ourselves a little bother, shall we?” Bernhardt spread his arms wide. “At least now you’ll understand. We are experts when it comes to tiptoeing under the nose of the royal government. At the moment, we also happen to be soldiers. Can you think of anyone better qualified to serve your needs?”
“No, I suppose not. But why did people like you think to volunteer?”
“For the good of humanity, of course.”
Nikki creased up at her own words, but Bernhardt gainsaid her. “Many people had to leave their fortunes behind during the evacuation. To this side of Wall Rose. Meaning there are hordes of abandoned treasure lying unattended in towns and villages between Wall Rose and Wall Maria.”
“So we go in and reap the harvest.” Jarratt winked at Mathias. The little touch hardly suited the gigantic old man.
“I see…” This was looking better and better for Mathias. “Then I think we should be able to work together. That sounds perfect.”
“How so?” Nikki leaned in, suddenly beaming. Her behavior seemed to change profoundly depending on whether she was interested or not.
“Part of my father’s fortune, a collection of valuable artworks, is still back in Quinta.”
“Bingo!” Bernhardt slapped a hand on his thigh. “I had wondered if it was. I’ve known for quite some time that your miser of an old man… Pardon me, that he has been a collector of such things.”
“How?”
“The military police are very close with merchant associations. You don’t appear to remember, but you and I actually met some years ago.”
“We did?”
“Only in passing, of course.”
In recent years, Mathias had often accompanied Jörg on his trips away for business. If Bernhardt really had been with the military police, then there was nothing particularly surprising about them having crossed paths.
“That’s how you knew it was me the moment I came in here.”
“To new friends and continued relationships!” Bernhardt raised his tankard dramatically into the air once again.
Mathias paid this no attention. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. Going back to what I said earlier, will you be able to get me there? To Quinta.”
“Ah, you want to reach Quinta, not simply get outside of the wall.”
“Yes.”
“May I enquire as to why?”
“We’ve told you about us. Your turn,” Jarratt said, with foam from the ale stuck to his mouth.
“Well…” If he told them his real reason, would they believe him? Even if they did, they would surely just make fun of him.
“A lady, perhaps?” Bernhardt said without any warning.
Mathias’ face flushed red. He found himself swallowing hard.
“Of course, I see.” Bernhardt emptied his tankard and slammed it back onto the table. “Wonderful! It seems that our new friend here is in love!”
“No, that’s not it. Please.”
“Oh, you’ve no reason to be ashamed. No need to be shy, either. There truly is nothing as wonderful as being in love!”
“This treasure. Where in Quinta is it?” Klaus asked.
“I can’t tell you yet.” They might dispose of him if he told them now. Or at least, they would have no reason to lead him outside of the wall. “I’ll tell you once we’re there,” Mathias promised.
“You’ll slow us down.”
“That might be true, but…”
“Maybe the treasure doesn’t even exist. Maybe it’s all one big lie.”
“I’m not making this up!” Mathias was on his feet before he even realized it himself. His chair capsized noisily backwards.
“That will do, you two,” Bernhardt intervened, and Nikki frowned next to him as though offended by all the commotion.
“Isn’t it worth taking a look, though?” Jarratt smiled in Klaus’ direction. “We’ll be heading out either way. And we’ll need to get supplies at some point. It shouldn’t be any great hassle to make a little diversion down to Quinta.”
“If you’re lying, you’re dead,” Klaus threatened, his voice low.
Coming out in a cold sweat, Mathias repeated, “I’m not making this up. And I won’t slow you down.”
And don’t let your guard down for an instant. Always remain suspicious, he warned himself.
✦ ✦ ✦
Rita was dreaming. It was a dream she used to have regularly, but this was the first time in a while.
In it, she was standing motionless in the doorway to a room she didn’t recognize. Sunlight streamed through the windows, but the room was shockingly dark.
There was a table inside. Some chairs.
Against the wall was a shadow of a person. A grown man. He was crouched down, huddled into a ball.
Rita began to approach. Her vantage point was low. She was still a kid, younger yet than when she and Mathias had first met.
Gently, she placed a hand on the man’s back. It felt terribly insubstantial. For some reason, it lacked any warmth.
The man must surely have noticed her. But he wouldn’t turn around.
She caught sight of his profile. It was a face she’d seen somewhere before. One she thought she knew well… Yet she couldn’t bring to mind the person it belonged to. It felt like the memory had simply chosen to abandon her.
Was it Henning as a younger man?
Or Mathias as an older one?
─Neither.
The man cradled a wooden box in his arms. More precisely, he was leaning on it. The man’s body was limp. Perhaps he was asleep.
Rita noticed something.
On the wooden floor next to the man’s feet was a small vial about the size of a thumb. A few drops remained inside. A transparent liquid.
Rita picked it up. She began to scrutinize it. Then she shifted her attention back to the man and tried shaking him by the shoulder.
He didn’t wake.
Deep was his love for the wooden box─deep.
Rita caught a faint smell of decay.