IBTRFL Chapter 24

"Isn't that the cat?"

"That's her! Get her, quick!"

"Hey, that one's mine!"

A crowd of people carrying nets and boxes came rushing through.

Aer casually changed course and ducked into an alley to get out of the way. The bristling cat, without so much as a backward glance, tore off in a mad panic.

It had become an everyday event on the streets these past few days.

Aer waited for the crowd to pass, gazing at the sword now at her hip. She'd just come from paying for it and picking it up.

Thescion had no real connection to chaos beasts or the war. So she'd worried.

Could the smiths of Thescion really make a proper sword?

Contrary to her worry, what she'd gotten was quite decent. As long as she didn't handle it too roughly, it would serve her a long time.

Aer looked around and stepped back out. In the place the human tide had swept through, only a few onlookers remained.

"Heard Malva raised the reward?"

"Yeah, so now even people who didn't care are running around with their eyes lit up looking for it."

Aer glanced at the onlookers and moved on.

Malva. Every time she heard that name, an unease she couldn't shake settled over her. Because she was certain she'd heard it before.

Not here in Thescion—somewhere further in the past, somewhere else.

It almost surfaced, then hovered just out of reach. She'd dug through her stack of papers, but found no record or clue.

"Maybe I'd know if I saw the face."

Thescion's merchant guild chairman agreeing to meet some grubby mercenary who'd shown up out of nowhere. Not a chance.

Aer scratched her head and headed back toward the inn.

"Milla, I'm back."

"Welcome back."

Milla stood in front of a pot, stirring it with a wooden ladle.

"Go sit down somewhere empty. Go on."

Milla said it with mock sternness. Aer sat at the table without a word of complaint.

She watched Milla's back moving busily in the kitchen.

Butter dropped onto a hot griddle melted thick and glistening. A plump sausage and two eggs went on top of it, and the sizzling butter browned the ingredients thrown its way.

Milla ladled a generous helping of stew into a large bread bowl and set the finished dishes down on the table.

Aer looked back and forth between the feast in front of her and Milla.

"This looks fancier than usual."

"Today's your last day, isn't it."

"Hm. Already come to that, has it?"

"Yeah."

Milla turned away indifferently and went back to the kitchen. Aer watched her go, then turned her gaze back to the table.

Chicken soup—she'd had it often during her stay here. There was more meat and more of it than usual, and in that there was both regret and affection.

Aer brought a spoonful of the soup to her mouth. The rich, thoroughly boiled chicken melted in her mouth.

"It's good."

"You'd better thank my sister for that."

The dry answer carried a faint trace of longing. Nothing else showed. Only the slick, gliding sound of a herring being cleaned continued, indifferent.

Aer sliced through the sausage with her spoon. Hot juice pooled inside spilled out and soaked into the eggs.

"Rana."

"Yeah."

Chewing on a bite of sausage, Aer said, gazing into empty space, "Heading south. Saksum's the destination."

The knife, its edge glinting cold and merciless, took the herring's head off in one clean stroke. Milla's face hardened as she turned to look at Aer.

"Saksum's dangerous."

"Well. Guess I'll find out when I get there."

"This kingdom, Kyese, is a good place to live. Close to the holy city, no dangerous beasts or monsters around, and plenty of work thanks to the wealthy cities nearby. It's peaceful."

"It is."

Aer tore off a piece of bread soaked soft with soup.

That was the problem.

The bread of those who take up arms sits where blood flows. For a mercenary, peace is the greatest enemy.

She wasn't sure she could still call herself a mercenary. But that didn't change the fact that she had to go.

"I have to become a mercenary and make money."

"You could do that here. You don't have to be a mercenary—plenty of other work."

"No. It has to be mercenary work. And the beasts around here aren't worth any money. Go down just a little further and a single beast corpse'll fetch five silver, easy."

"…There's no arguing with you."

She'd known this child had her path set. But—

Milla, unable to find anything more to say, was just about to turn back around when—

"I saw it! I saw it!"

A skin-crawling shriek, like metal scraping on metal, tore through the air of the tavern.

Clothes stained filthy from going unwashed for far too long, wrinkled hands with fingernails torn off and scabbed over, gray hair in a disheveled sprawl, bloodshot eyes spinning without focus.

An old woman in a state so ghastly it was hard even to look at her directly.

"That thing, that thing! Came looking for me, looking for me! Became a monster, a monster, a monster!"

Gasping out ragged breaths, the old woman rolled her eyes back. Drool ran freely from between her grotesquely swollen lips.

Startled, Milla and Aer moved closer to check on her. The old woman shrieked in terror and bolted outside.

"So it really was true, that she'd been punished?" Milla muttered.

Aer, standing there blankly, asked quickly, "Who is that woman?"

"No—never mind, kid, you don't need to know that. Just eat."

Milla went straight back to the kitchen.

Aer watched her retreating back, then let her gaze trail after the direction the old woman had disappeared in.

"I have to go."

Aer muttered, her face sullen, and scratched the back of her neck.

The madwoman who'd shown up in the early afternoon. The woman's words, and Milla's reaction, kept scraping at something in her mind.

Normally she would've let it go in one ear and out the other, but the unease clung to her like grease and wouldn't wash off.

The story of the punished old woman was famous throughout the city.

It circulated among people's mouths alongside gossip about Malva's cat, the bishop's constipation, and a prominent lawyer's daughter who'd eloped in the night.

She'd been too busy gathering supplies for the trip to catch the details.

"One more day…. No."

Shaking her head, Aer stood and gathered up her sword and holy relic.

Both Malva and the old woman were things she wanted to dig into further, but she didn't have the room to spare.

The room was spotless, not a speck of dust anywhere. She'd just finished her final check and was about to leap out the window when—

Familiar footsteps approached and stopped outside the door. Something with some weight to it was set down, and then the footsteps left just as quickly.

Once the footsteps had faded completely, Aer carefully opened the door.

There, sitting in front of her, was a robe made of good cloth and a basket full of pies and biscuits.

Aer stood there in silence for a moment before gathering both items and bringing them back into the room.

She immediately took off her old robe and put on the new one she'd been given. It was a little large, but she liked the color and the texture both.

Checking the fit of her clothes, Aer opened the pouch at her belt.

The pouch, imbued with a goddess's power, swallowed the basket several times its own size without so much as a ripple. True to its nature as a holy relic, its size and weight never changed.

"…Thank you, Milla."

I'll pay you back properly someday. Leaving behind thanks that would never reach their destination, Aer leapt out the window.

An unusually large, red full moon shone with an ominous light. Not so much as a whisker of the rats that usually darted through the streets before dawn could be seen.

Aer looked around without a word. The city's streets, blanketed in darkness, lay twisted in something like a bad omen.

Aer walked the streets in silence. Her own shadow, cast beneath the red moonlight, shimmered strangely.

"Hey, hey, hurry it up. Someone's coming, I swear."

"Shut it. Nobody's comin'. And it ain't opening, so what the hell d'you want from me."

Suspicious voices drifted out from a secluded alley.

Aer moved quietly toward where the presence stirred.

Past the stale darkness, she could make out the owners of the voices. Faces wrapped in cloth, a piece of wire clutched in a hand, all manner of tools scattered on the ground.

By any measure, the perfect picture of a thief.

"What are you two doing?"

"What're we doing, we're picking the lock, obvi—…, who're you!"

"Hey, hey. Shh, quiet, quiet."

Why were there so many things out here that barely counted as human? Aer sighed, pressing two fingers to the bridge of her nose.

Startled by the uninvited guest, the thieves exchanged a quick look. Then they snatched up hammers and crowbars from the ground and closed in on Aer.

"Playing games, are you."

Aer said, contempt clear on her face, and rested a hand on the hilt of her sword.

Only then did the thieves take note of the sword's existence and suck in a sharp breath.

They couldn't see her face, and her build was small, but the air she gave off was nothing ordinary.

A paladin? A mercenary? A knight-in-training?

The two of them dropped their tools in one smooth motion, like water flowing, and sank to their knees.

"This is our livelihood, ma'am."

"Please let this one slide."

"Don't make me laugh. Go turn yourselves in."

"They might rip our eyes out for that."

"Then let them rip them out."

Aer answered, cold.

The thieves rubbed their hands together like flies and begged.

"We gotta eat too, don't we."

"So why's thieving your way of eating."

"Because it's the only thing we know how to do?"

The thieves cautiously watched Aer's reaction.

Aer clicked her tongue openly. There was no sign of humanity to be found here. Without any need to lift another finger, she planned to hand them straight over to the night watch.

Before that, though, there was something she wanted to ask.

"You two."

"Yes."

"You know anything about the crazy old woman? The one screaming and running around."

"Ah."

One of the thieves raised a hand. Aer jerked her chin, telling him to go on.

"That old lady, she sells flowers in the back alleys."

"…I know what you mean."

"But then, about a month ago? One of her flowers ran off on her, and she raised all kinds of hell about it. She's always been a nasty old bat so nobody paid it any mind, but at some point she just lost it."

The other thief, listening in, let out a sudden gasp as though something had come back to him.

"Oh, right. It got drowned out with all the cat business lately, but there's this creepy rumor going around."

"What rumor."

Aer asked, watching the space behind the thieves.

Oblivious to that, the thief stammered his way through an answer.

"What was it—oh, right, the woman all wrapped up in bandages, crawling around on all fours! People who go out at night chasing that cat, they've run into her, apparently…."

"Is that so."

Cutting him off, Aer drew her sword. The thieves flinched back.

"Wh—what. I said everyth—"

"That's it, isn't it."

Aer pointed the tip of her sword at the darkness pooled in the alley. Silence settled over them.

A breathing sound, unfamiliar, that hadn't been there before. A faint, slick smell of blood and water brushing past her nose.

The thieves turned stiff necks to check the dark.

"H—hello… hello, hello."

An awkward greeting came along with a bandaged woman crawling out of the dark.

When the left arm moved, the right leg moved. When the right arm moved, the left leg moved. Her limbs, gaunt and warped, moved out of rhythm.

The woman's neck, jutting out like a turtle's, spun round and round before stopping.

At the sight of it, the thieves foamed at the mouth and fainted on the spot.

Aer said nothing, only raised her sword toward the woman.

However much time passes, there are things that cannot be forgotten. Unfortunately, most of them come from terrible experiences.

"I, I, I, I— I'm, I'm, I—"

"You."

'How could I ever forget you people.'

"A Chaos Beast. Of course."

Her violet eyes burned with a hatred beyond measure.