Episode 2 - Heroes of the Continent
"Yes. What brings you here?"
"Lieutenant Pippin said you'd woken up, sir."
"Ah, I see."
"Why'd you change clothes?"
"Got some soot on them."
"...Shall we take a walk?"
Camilla Lowell showed up out of nowhere and dragged me up to the roof of the building.
It was that kind of place—city nightscape sprawling below, stars twinkling high overhead. She was dressed neatly; I was in my drab military uniform. She handed me a drink, and I accepted it politely before sitting down. And just like that, a civilian and a soldier were facing each other on the rooftop bench.
"Feeling any better?"
"Yeah... a bit now."
Camilla Lowell nodded. Her crimson hair cascaded down past her shoulders with the motion, partially veiling her face. Her expression was pretty grim.
"I'm sorry this incident caused you so much distress."
She didn't reply. As the colonel had said, it must suck when something bad happens far away. But what if you get dropped into another world and then hit with a bomb terror attack? Yeah.
"Not mad?"
"Huh?"
"Aren't you mad? Usually after something like this, you're numb at first, then suddenly rage kicks in. Feel hard done by or whatever?"
"Sounds like you're used to it... Major."
I was, yeah. This place had bombs going off whenever it got bored. Though today was my first time caught in one directly.
"First time for me today, too."
"And you're this calm?"
"Guess I saw a few in my past life."
Camilla Lowell gulped down her orange drink and let out a sigh. Her current demeanor was worlds apart from the bubbly official-schedule vibe she'd had earlier. The differences were plain as day—the intensity of her tone, the pitch of her voice, the tension in her facial muscles, her pupils. She was seriously rattled.
"I heard this place had guns, but bombs too? Didn't see that coming."
Her mind must be a mess. Come to think of it, Europe had occasional terror attacks too, but Camilla Lowell, who'd lived in the UK, didn't seem accustomed to them.
Anyway, shelve the chit-chat. Time to check on the Hero's state.
"So, why'd you come find me?"
"Just... wanted to see if you were okay."
"Lucky for me, no injuries. I was far enough from the blast center."
"Looked like you fell, though... What happened?"
Should I tell the truth? Or cover it up? The moment had drawn so much attention that any lie would get busted quick. So I spilled the facts.
"Got jumped by some thug. No wounds. He just barreled past suddenly, startled me into falling."
"I see. Glad you're okay..."
Camilla Lowell tried to mask her true feelings, treading carefully with her words and actions. But I could read her like a book from the start. She was anxious right now. I tapped away at my mental calculator, weighing options.
Benefits of cheering her up. Gains from being likable. Info I could get through her. And my missions. After mulling it over, winning her favor seemed helpful.
Problem was, I had no clue what to say. I'm the type who reads and analyzes info, not the one who empathizes and consoles. My half-assed pickup lines from bootleg books weren't cutting it in the clutch.
Suddenly, as she stared down at the ground with her head bowed, she pointed at my chest.
"What's that medal?"
It was a medal, yeah.
"This? Got it during frontline duty."
"For what?"
For killing a shit-ton of people. But saying that'd just get me labeled a psycho, so I sugarcoated it.
"Eh, just for fighting well, they said."
"Sounds like you did something good. Patriotic, right? My dad was in the military too—had medals at home..."
News to me. Never knew her dad was military. Or about the medals. She must be hiding a lot from me. Gotta dig that out somehow.
As I pondered, she tilted her sad eyes and smiled faintly.
"Dad always said... protecting the country is a good thing."
Hmm. I wasn't one to love the kingdom, so calling myself a patriot was a stretch. Nor was I loyal to the king, so not a faithful servant either. The nation I'd truly pledged my life to and loved from the heart didn't exist in this world. So I was this awkward in-betweener. Since I didn't see myself as a patriot anyway.
What came out was neither affirmation nor denial—just vague ambiguity.
"I see."
"Major."
She called my name in a plaintive voice.
"...Am I really the Hero?"
Deep sorrow leaked from her lips, an uncontrollable tremor. Not a simple question. Couldn't answer simply.
She turned to me, urging a reply. But I stayed silent. Couldn't respond.
Staring into her blue eyes peeking through that crimson hair, my mind blanked. No words came.
I just... spat out the plain fact, insincere as it was.
"Yes."
*
"That's how it went down."
I finished the lengthy report and wet my throat with a drink. The one Camilla Lowell had given me earlier.
-'The Hero seems more troubled than expected.'
"Bomb went off right in front of her, after all. No way she's sleeping soundly anytime soon."
I muttered self-deprecatingly, gazing at the city nightscape. The downtown vibe was sour post-terror—makes sense.
-'You holding up, Major? Didn't get caught in it?'
"Psychologically? The assault hit harder than the bomb I glimpsed before blacking out."
-'Makes sense hearing it now. Report said no casualties. That right?'
The colonel's "casualties" didn't mean the civilian terror victims.
"No injuries. But judging by my team's state, better bench them for rest awhile."
-'Field commander's call—approved.'
"Thanks, Colonel."
-'Clearing your schedule with Foreign Affairs for three days. Tell the agents. And you rest up too—no overthinking.'
"Can I? Gotta hunt the terrorist, track Saintess candidate Lucia's movements, greet foreign envoys. Tons to do. Plus my regular duties."
A sigh came through the comms device. He sounded exasperated.
-'Delegate that to other agents.'
"Colonel, I'm not some lightweight who folds this easy. Put me to work, at least."
This stubborn bastard's at it again. The colonel let out a short sigh and went quiet.
"Others have their own workloads. Don't wanna burden them extra."
-'Why worry about them? We've got resident spies beyond the dispatched ones. No need for you to step up.'
"Better to wreck my body than embarrass myself freeloading. Dump work on me now, or my joints'll pay when seniors chew me out later. Gotta think of my knees."
-'Still the same thick-headed mule.'
"People don't change easy. Anyway, reinstate me solo."
Might come off cocky, but after years under him, factoring in the shit I'd endured—this much whining was fair game.
-'Your call—don't bitch later. Sending Church-related files tomorrow morning.'
"Appreciate it, Colonel."
-'Election intel's still analyzing. Just terror-related docs for now.'
"Got it. Hand over to Inquisition by tomorrow?"
The colonel hummed rarely, deep in thought.
-'Hmm? Inquisition, eh. Solid crew. Any other plans?'
"I'll deliver direct if possible. Otherwise, to the cardinal."
-'Not Raoul—go to Raphael Cardinal. Old heresy hunter.'
Whoa, first I'd heard. That kindly old-timer next door was a badass back in the day? Fits the dark fantasy vibe.
"Oh, one more favor?"
-'Shoot.'
"Send a few psych ops experts to the embassy."
-'Psych warfare agents, huh? For the Hero and team? Local psych handler available—dispatching to embassy.'
"Thanks, Colonel!"
No one watching, but I bowed in thanks anyway. Sigh, then line cut.
Urgent stuff squared away. Pippin, Jake, Camilla Lowell hole up in embassy for counseling. I roam and handle biz.
"Hm."
City lights blazed bright. Terrorist skulking among those crowds below? Pointless question—no one hands you answers. This world's no cozy spot that spoon-feeds you if you cry hungry. Thirsty dig your own well.
Truth's out there—time to hunt it myself.
*
"Hey, hey. I'm fine, so get inside already."
Scuffle at the embassy entrance. Holy knights on guard eyed us weirdly.
"Sir! Don't do this. Why we gotta squat in the embassy?!"
"Shut it, you punk! Embarrassing us—quiet down!"
The blond tanned thug in uniform—promised tonkatsu, followed Mom like a kid, now clung to the embassy door wailing like at the dentist. Stares pricking my face—total international shame.
"You idiot. Just come quietly."
"Ow, ow, ow—don't yank my ear, Pippin, please."
"Shut your trap."
Pippin hissed curses in his ear, dragging Jake inside. Scary. A massive punk hauled by a pint-sized girl—what a nightmare reality. Einstein'd faint.
Awkward nods to the holy knights, then Camilla Lowell— who'd watched it all stone-faced—approached quietly.
"Sir."
"Ah, Camilla. Something up?"
"Heard all schedules canceled this morning—rest at embassy. You not resting?"
"Yeah, got some work. Just stepping out quick—you go ahead and rest."
She cocked her head, seeming uneasy, then entered. Crimson hair swayed side-to-side through the softly closing door. I traded glances with the shady suits tailing her.
Stood there blankly staring at the shut door, felt the paper in my pocket, then turned to go.
Time to work.
"Excuse me, holy knight."
"Yes?"
"Where's the Inquisition?"