“Really, please...don’t cry.”
What’s wrong with me? Maybe I’m the weird one. Aren’t I angry? If I am, why am I crying? Yes, people cry when they’re sad, sometimes when they’re happy too, but angry? Who cries out of anger?
...Maybe I’m not angry after all. And I’m certainly not happy. The only feeling left is sadness. These are tears of sadness.
“I’m sure...” Rockmann’s voice is getting fainter. “I’m sure you hate me.”
“‘Hate’ you?”
“People cry...for loved ones, over friends...not for people they hate. And...you can’t stay here crying. There’s still something you have to do.” He presses the forefinger on his right hand against my forehead. “You’ve got a job to do, Crybaby Caretaker of Lost Children from the Knight’s Order. You’ve got a job to do...Receptionist Lady.”
“Wait, Rockmann—”
Quietly, faintly, his arm goes slack and falls to the ground. Bit by bit, his body is covered with translucent crystal, until finally he is frozen entirely.
“NO! Sir Alois! Please, open your eyes!” Maris presses her face against the cold ice covering his body and begins sobbing.
Why is it that every time I stretch out my hand to you, you take it in yours so easily? “You do all this...despite how much I treated you as my enemy.”
Not a single person around me has anything to say in response to my whispered words. I’m crying so much that my nose begins to run. My breathing gets shallow and rapid as sorrow threatens to drown me. I let out a sad gasp as I come up for air and look up at the red sky.
“You were a loathsome idiot sometimes, but still, even then—” My eyes begin to well up with tears again as I squint up at nothing in particular. “There was...one thing I liked about you.” Don’t blink, Nanalie, don’t blink. You can’t cry those tears. No matter how I try to hold them back, however, I can’t stop them from running down my cheeks. “You always, always kept your promises. I liked that.”
I think back to when Rockmann and I first met, and all that’s happened since then.
I’d tell him to “prepare to die” before each school holiday. We’d come back to school and he’d say, snarking loud enough for everyone to hear, “I’ve prepared myself. Now what?” What a stupid joke of a conversation. I remember every time he said that, and how I’d, just a little, smile at his sarcastic response.
Then there was that time when he’d said he “wanted to teach me how to perform psychometry” and dragged me out on that investigation under those pretenses—but then he actually did teach me how to do it, properly. I’d thought of the whole episode as just another example of how condescending he could be. I was honestly surprised back then.
It was the same that time I was held hostage in the Land of the Sea. He said he’d come for me, sure—but I hadn’t actually believed he would.
Then, just now, didn’t he say—
“I’ll be there to protect you, whenever you need me.”
“Protect me, huh?”
Why did he say that? Why in the world did he say that? He’s got nothing to gain from making a promise like that. Maybe he’s even stupider than I am. He might even, you know, be actually stupid. But you know—
My shoulders tremble as I cover my mouth with my hands.
“I—”
—I’d be stupid not to fall in love with you.
For a while my mind goes blank. I shake my head a few times, blinking rapidly. Why am I feeling like this, now? It’s strange. It’s weird.
In any case, I haven’t got time to waste sitting here thinking about stuff like this. It’s just like Rockmann said—we’ve already made it this far. I can’t look back now. I’ve got a job to do, something I need to do. For everyone.
What flashes through my mind, however, is a memory of the last time I cried like this in front of him. Rockmann had lost one of his arms and was covered in blood. That was the first time I caused a pestokraive, wasn’t it? There had been this image in my mind while it was all happening, almost like an out-of-body experience. I’d remembered that one time as a child I’d gone with my mother to the town theater. The play had been so boring that I’d nearly slept through the whole affair, but there was one part I remember quite clearly: it was when a woman was weeping over her fallen lover. She’d looked so, so sad, weeping away all that while. But I hadn’t made that connection at the time, between my tears and hers—I’d thought I was crying out of frustration more than anything else.
“Why...why couldn’t I have realized sooner?”
Could I—could I have already been in—with him, even back then, when he lost his arm?
I peer through the ice trapping him, only to see my own face reflected on its surface. I look like I’m in pain.
“Everyone, please! Help me.” Still kneeling on the ground, I call out to the others surrounding Rockmann and me.
Mr. Borizurie is the one casting the shield at the moment. The Director had run out of magic and is now lying down next to the Knight Commander. Both of them have their eyes closed and are covered in ice. Zozo, Mr. Alkes, and Ms. Harris are on standby next to Mr. Borizurie, ready to take over whenever his magic should begin to fail. Maris is crouched down next to Rockmann, crying. The King is watching it all happen with a most grave look on his face. I notice that some of the aristocrats who had been standing around us just moments ago have left, probably to fight the demons beyond the shield. More and more, I look around and see not flesh and blood, but frozen people standing, sitting, collapsed on the ground. Prince Zenon himself can no longer move one of his legs.
Benjamine kneels beside me and looks me in the eye. “What do you want us to do, Nanalie?” All eyes turn to look at mine as they await the answer to her question.
“I’m not going to demand you help me,” I say, “I know what I’m asking is dangerous. But please, someone—I need you to come with me to attack Städal. I need you to recite your Prayer of the Guardian Spirit.”
Stopping him for even just a moment would do. A distraction would be fine. Just enough to throw him off balance, even.
Prince Zenon’s the first to speak. “This is the final showdown, isn’t it?”
I nod my head.
“Alright then. I’ll help you.”
“Your Highness! You can’t! Look at you, you’re already freezing—”
Nikeh, who’s been quietly helping Prince Zenon stay standing this whole time by keeping one arm around his shoulders, shouts in protest. Of course she’d say that; the Prince’s leg is almost entirely iced already. If he uses more magic in the state that he’s in, well...we can all see, right before our eyes, what’ll happen then. Nikeh looks between the Prince and Rockmann, shaking her head and pleading with her Vice Commander to stay on the ground.
But Prince Zenon remains resolute. Nikeh cries as she argues, begs him to stay—and yet he doesn’t even acknowledge her words with so much as a shake of his head. “Everyone who can still move must go up there to stop him. If we don’t, we’ll all freeze. It’ll be the end for me,” he says, looking down at Nikeh, “and the end for you, too.”
Even if we do defeat Städal, however, there’s no guarantee that we’ll be able to return everyone back to normal. With a condition like that, how can anyone command others to choose one or the other? Stay, and die, fight and die. I certainly can’t tell people what to do. Some of the Knights begin arguing amongst themselves about whether they’ll actually be able to stop our foe if they use their Prayers as I’m asking them to.