Suspiciously Suspicious... (2)
Shak-shashashak!
The stranger weaving through the shadows of the alleyways by moonlight seemed thoroughly familiar with every turn, moving without the slightest hesitation. He dove into roadside bushes to avoid a thoroughly drunk pedestrian, then skillfully vaulted over the faint outlines of obstacles. His movements were so light one could almost believe he was a cat.
What kind of person moves like that?
Iscal, who had been having quite a hard time tailing him, quietly wiped the sweat from his brow. The man showed no sign of noticing the pursuit, as if he had never received professional training. Had those movements been honed through military drills, he would have spotted Iscal’s tailing in an instant.
Thud—thump-thump!
The shadow slipped into one particular alley, glanced around, then approached a door and knocked—once lightly, twice hard.
The thick door cracked open just a sliver, and someone whispered something toward the shadow.
“———”
A password, perhaps? Belatedly, Iscal gathered his holy power and wrapped it around his ears. It was a technique that required delicate control of divine energy, and he had struggled considerably to learn it—yet among his unit, he had mastered it the fastest.
A voice so soft it nearly drowned beneath the chirping of insects now reached him with reasonable clarity. Iscal focused every scrap of attention on his ears.
“Woof woof.”
?
For a moment Iscal doubted his own hearing. Even after replaying it, the words were unmistakably “woof woof.”
A rather ridiculous password, but he committed it firmly to memory.
“How many have come to the gathering tonight?”
“…Come inside first.”
Creeeak—thud!
The shadow asked the question in a delicate voice toward the narrow gap; a thick voice answered curtly and swung the door wide. The shadow was swallowed inside, and the door shut solidly behind him.
Watching it all, Iscal hesitated. A secret password exchanged in the dead of night, the furtive atmosphere, and that unmistakable whiff of something shady…
Should he turn back here, or dig deeper?
Let’s dig deeper.
What was the worst that could happen—death? He had brought his buckler just in case, and the god was watching over him. If things went south, a bolt of lightning would surely come to his aid.
Sixth God, I believe in You!
Twinkle—!
As if answering his prayer, the constellation in his eyes flashed briefly.
Bolstered, Iscal snatched a large overcoat hanging on a nearby clothesline and draped it over himself, hiding his face and body. Ever since the ordeal in the arena, far too many people recognized him; without a disguise he would be discovered for certain.
Thump-thump.
The whole affair felt like a secret operation, and Iscal’s heart pounded with excitement. They had spoken of a “gathering,” so others would surely be arriving—perfect conditions for slipping in unnoticed.
After checking that his face was well covered, Iscal knocked on the same door the shadow had entered.
Thud—thump-thump!
Once lightly, twice hard, just as before.
The firmly shut door cracked open a fraction. The same thick male voice from earlier whispered in a stiff tone:
“Meow meow.”
“….”
That deep, gravelly voice—like something echoing from the floor of a cavern—uttering “meow meow”! The sheer dissonance left Iscal momentarily dazed, yet he managed to deliver the countersign just in time.
“…Woof woof.”
“Come inside.”
Creeeak—thud!
The door swung wide. Iscal slipped through quickly, and with a solid thud it sealed shut behind him. From this moment on, he was truly inside the enemy’s den.
He absently stroked the buckler hidden beneath his coat, trying to soothe his nerves. The man who had opened the door spoke.
“This way.”
“….”
No body search, no guest list. Perhaps the gathering was not quite as secretive as it appeared.
Following the man, Iscal’s eyes roved everywhere. From outside he had not realized it, but the interior of the mansion was vast, its décor and atmosphere thoroughly antique. Ornate furnishings of the sort he had only ever seen at high-noble banquets back when he still lived as a noble in his homeland filled the halls—gold-inlaid statues, portraits by famous painters, even autobiographies of ancient greats displayed along the corridor. The owner of this place clearly possessed enormous wealth and a refined taste for the arts.
Whatever kind of assembly this is, it seems to have a considerable moneybags as its backer.
Iscal carefully filed the observation away and soon arrived before a massive set of doors.
The man who had guided him bowed quietly.
“Quite a few others have already arrived. Please enjoy yourselves…”
“….”
Afraid his voice might give him away, Iscal merely nodded. The man paid him no further mind and wandered off down the corridor, vanishing into the darkness.
Gulp—
What, exactly, waited beyond these doors?
His heart hammered. A bead of sweat slid down the back of his neck. After a brief hesitation, Iscal’s hand thrust forward with resolve.
Creeeeak—
The great doors swung open effortlessly at his push, revealing everything within without reservation.
Th-this place…
Lively music, genteel laughter, elegant footsteps and refined manners. Candles and glittering chandeliers illuminated every corner.
An elegant, high-class banquet hall stretched before him.
Momentarily flustered, Iscal quickly stepped inside. Servants bustled about; gentlemen and ladies in formal attire mingled. A few, like him, wore concealing robes, though most simply hid their faces behind masks.
“My, it’s been so long. You’ve changed your perfume? Is it a new release?”
“Having seen the new sculpture by Master Michelan himself, my thoughts are—”
“Given the existence of the gods, the Empire’s political stance and diplomatic direction must henceforth focus carefully upon the Holy City’s movements—”
Cultured, intellectual conversation flowed freely.
It was a far cry from the blood-spattered, dark, and sinister gathering he had imagined.
…A secret social party, then?
He had heard the rumors—banquets for the base hobbies of the high and mighty, orgies wearing the mask of polite society.
To think such sordid affairs had taken root even in the Holy City.
It was still too early to be certain… yet Iscal decided to observe a little longer and drifted toward a quiet corner.
“Guest. Here are some light refreshments and drinks.”
“My thanks.”
He accepted the beverage the servants quietly offered but did not drink. One could hardly consume anything in the heart of enemy territory; the drinks might be laced with something suspicious.
Thump thump thump!
A noise cut through the soft music and laughter. Looking up, Iscal saw an elderly gentleman step onto a small dais and strike the floor with his cane, drawing every eye. Behind him, servants carried something draped in cloth.
Neatly combed hair, a mask heavy with antique ornamentation, a solid posture, and eyes that never wavered—everything about him proclaimed a man of dignity and refinement.
“Ladies and gentlemen gathered here tonight, I bid you welcome. Some of you already know me; others do not. To the familiar faces I offer warm greetings; to those meeting me for the first time, a heartfelt welcome.”
The elderly gentleman bowed with perfect grace—an impeccable Imperial-style greeting. Iscal was certain the man hailed from the Holy Romanian Empire.
“My name is Marquis Perius Daysky. It is merely an alias, so please feel free to call me Marquis Perius.”
Clap clap clap—
A polite smattering of applause rose toward Marquis Perius. He acknowledged it with a nod of thanks and continued.
“Gentlemen and ladies assembled here—today you may look forward to something special. After a very long time I have secured an item of truly superior quality, and I wished to share that joy with all of you, which is why I prepared this gathering.”
Clench—
An “item”? “Superior quality”? The words were anything but ordinary.
Iscal kept his tension high, fingers brushing the buckler at his side. If necessary he was ready to leap forward and subdue Marquis Perius on the spot.
“Now, everyone! Behold! This is the masterpiece I have newly acquired!”
Whoosh—!
At the marquis’s grand shout and gesture, the cloth covering the object behind him fell away.
“Oh my goodness… it’s so beautiful.”
“Incredible. As expected of Marquis Perius… truly worthy of the founder of our gathering.”
“Look at that figure. Truly… I cannot take my eyes off it! Indeed a superior piece worthy of the marquis’s confidence.”
Praise and admiration poured forth. Some stared as though entranced; others applauded Marquis Perius for allowing them to witness such a treasure.
Th-this is…?
Iscal’s pupils shook violently. He could not comprehend what he was seeing.
Just what in the world was that?
It was a painting.
A painting of a person. And yet—
What on earth…?
It was a portrait of a young lady.
Golden hair cascading like waves, an elegant dress. Blue eyes glared at the viewer with a rather fierce set to the brows. Arms crossed in a full sulk, as though something displeased her greatly. Yet the flushed cheeks and the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes revealed she was actually bashful.
Up to that point it was an ordinary portrait of a noble young lady… but a closer look revealed something different.
Her ears…
She had no human ears. In their place, perched atop her head, were a pair of cat ears.
The fur of those cat ears—clearly painted with the soul-burning, delicate touch of a master artist—looked so soft and fluffy that one felt an irresistible urge to stroke them. Lowering one’s gaze to her waist revealed a dainty, curled cat tail dancing in the air.
Is that even a person?
The overall form was unmistakably human, yet cat ears crowned her head and a tail swayed at her waist.
What in the world was that supposed to be?
Around him, gentlemen and ladies were shedding tears of emotion and clapping in admiration.
“Marquis Perius! Thanks to you I leave tonight with my eyes truly opened!”
“As expected of the marquis! I simply cannot match your eye for quality.”
Iscal felt as though he had stepped into another world—like a one-eyed man among the two-eyed.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Ehk?!”
A sudden presence. Iscal recoiled in alarm, only to find someone in a deeply hooded robe standing right beside him—when had they approached?
Had he been discovered? Flustered, Iscal scrambled for an excuse.
“A-ahem! What do you mean by that? New, you say!”
“Heh heh. You can pretend all you like—it’s written all over you. First-timers almost always react just like that. Startled, flustered, no idea what to do.”
A high, coquettish woman’s voice. It was identical to the delicate voice he had heard when the door was knocked upon earlier.
Iscal was now certain the shadow he had followed from the alley was this woman.
“Well, everyone gets used to it soon enough. It’s rather dull, really. What’s so great about a painting like that, I wonder.”
“…Do you happen to know who paints those pictures?”
“Hmm~ Digging into someone else’s trade secrets at first meeting? Bolder than you look. Sorry, but that’s my livelihood—can’t tell you.”
“Ah, no. I had no intention of prying… forgive me.”
So this woman was either the courier of the paintings or the artist herself. Iscal committed every detail to memory.
Judging he had learned enough, he began walking slowly toward the exit of the banquet hall. Lingering longer would do him no good.
“You smell rather nice. How about a quiet drink together later?”
The woman pressed her face close and sniffed at him like a cat or a dog. Thoroughly flustered by the animal-like behavior, Iscal quickened his pace.
“It was a pleasure meeting you. I have urgent business, so I must be going…”
“What, leaving already?”
Leaving the woman looking thoroughly disappointed behind him, Iscal hurried onward. The taciturn doorman asked nothing and simply opened the door; cool night air welcomed him.
Hoo—
The stars overhead were truly beautiful. Separately from that, his mind was a tangle of questions.
Just what had that banquet been? People of such refinement and culture gathering in secret merely to admire paintings? Why?
I can at least guess why they keep it secret.
Paintings of human bodies with beast ears and tails attached. They would hardly receive favorable gazes.
Being called a pervert would be the best outcome; in the worst case they might even be branded as those who consort with animals.
I’ll have to organize everything carefully into a report.
What he had seen and heard tonight might keep him up until dawn just to put into proper order.
Ahh—
He stretched his stiff body, releasing the tension in his muscles, and walked on beneath the moonlight.
Above Iscal’s head as he made his way toward the Pantheon, the eye-shaped constellation watched him in quiet silence.