Firelights Beneath the Moonlight // End of Part 1
Firelights Beneath the Moonlight // End of Part 1
***
Unlike the songs of the stars and the moon embroidered across the sky, few lights shone upon the ground.
All that lingered in the chill night air was the subdued vitality of creatures who lived by gazing at the light—and only the low sighs of those who lived by borrowing the night.
"..."
A woman sat amidst it all. She passed the hours alone, gazing at a light of her own.
A clear note rang out—Pong—then a dull Tak that left a lingering resonance.
Again, Pong—
And again, Tak—
The magic tool the woman always carried kept her company through the night, now and then breaking the desolate silence of the mournful forest.
She was waiting.
She did not quite know herself whom she was waiting for, yet she held a strange certainty that she would soon meet the one she awaited.
The woman's eyes were fixed on the magic tool's light as it flickered on and off, while her lips idly worked the plump cigar clamped between them, making it bob up and down.
"Puu—"
Three days had already passed since she left the Holy Kingdom.
By all rights, she should have quickened her pace to seek an audience with the Queen of Albator, but
this woman had no intention of leaving. No—the very spot where she now lingered was her destination.
The woman was waiting.
No matter how much time it took, she would sit right here and wait, day after day.
Having already concluded her discussion with the Cardinal, she had no other options left.
Only two people in this world knew why she had come here: the Cardinal and herself.
"Puu—"
Well. Had it been some tedious affair, she would likely have politely declined and lounged about as usual—even if it were a mission bestowed by God.
For a woman who serves God, it was a truly impertinent and laughable attitude, yet everyone would probably acknowledge her ability all the same.
An archbishop steeped in tobacco and alcohol—and yet a woman who possessed exceptional divine power.
"Hmm."
The woman rummaged through her pocket. There lay a peculiar tool, carefully stored: a fine cigar cutter shaped like a guillotine, perfect for snipping off the end of a cigar.
Without hesitation, she fitted the cigar she had been holding into its groove and sliced off the tip. The portion slightly damp with saliva was cleanly removed; the woman now clamped the cigar between her lips once more and began smoking in earnest.
Her name was Helen.
Officially, she had been dispatched to monitor the situation surrounding the recent Philmark Incident in Albator, but
the truth was she had been sent because of an unsettling dream she'd had days before.
"Mm."
Under her tending, the tip of the cigar began to char black. The blackened part flared with a bright flame each time Helen parted her lips.
Smoke slipped from her mouth and scattered into the air. As she savored the rich aroma that warmed the chill night air, Helen's left eyebrow arched upward without her noticing. The cigar the Cardinal had given her as a consolation seemed especially fragrant tonight.
Once the cigar was burning steadily, Helen exhaled the mouthful of smoke she had been holding and hummed a tune.
This was quite a significant mission—perhaps it might even be her last.
Yet she showed no particular sign of concern, simply enjoying her cigar and focusing on the heavy aroma lingering in her mouth.
Savor the cigar, then pull the liquor bottle from her waist and take a swig. Enjoy the smoke again, then tilt the bottle once more.
And so she spent the long night wide awake, waiting for those who would set out on the journey with her.
"...Oh my."
The wait had not been so very long. As she sat still, a cluster of women and one man came into view.
"That was quick~"
Was it a murmur to herself, or a snatch of song? Helen muttered quietly and observed them.
Women who seemed neither close nor compatible—nor as if they even considered one another comrades.
"Mm."
Helen held the smoke in her mouth and exhaled again. "Mmm."
As if they had not even noticed her presence, the women began to quarrel.
It was an utter mess. Even a gang of marketplace thugs would probably brawl with more order than this.
But Helen smiled. Their combination—which looked nothing short of outrageously amusing—captivated her heart.
Just as she had seen in her dream, watching those women, so brimming with individuality that they could hardly fit together, Helen merely thought, This is going to be quite entertaining.
"Still going on about Her Majesty the Queen. Crazy bitch. You're the biggest nutjob here."
Catching the sharp slander from the famous thief, Helen drew the cigar from her lips and headed toward them.
"Whew... what do I do about this..."
The small man caught among the women let out a sigh.
Mm. So that's the man. He's quite cute.
The focal point that drew each of those women together. The Dragon of the Dragon Knights.
"When you don't know what to do, a bit of advice becomes desperately necessary, you see."
"...?"
Five gazes snapped toward Helen.
Helen, already savoring the enjoyable days ahead, slowly stepped forward.
"What?"
The thief rose, clutching her dagger.
Not only her—the other women also began preparing for whatever might come.
"Oh dear. Please, put your weapons down. I have no intention of fighting—I am merely a woman with little skill in battle."
Helen walked slowly. In time with her leisurely steps, the flame at the tip of her cigar flickered.
"Hoo..."
Now, where should I begin...
"I only just lit it, so you won't mind if I talk while I smoke, will you?"
Each of them was strong, yet gathered together they looked like a miserable rabble...
"Our... Dragon Knights."
-----------------------------
Even if she turned her eyes elsewhere, there were not many lights.
In the queen's bedchamber, where she had woken alone and gasping for breath, only a small nightlight burned faintly.
"Hah, hah... hic... hk..."
Jolted awake from sleep, she trembled and frantically scanned the room.
The man who should have been at her side was nowhere to be seen.
"De-Delin? Delin?"
She looked around the dark bedroom and hastily pushed herself upright.
The beautiful hand groping blindly about found nothing but the silence he had left behind and the chill moonlight lingering in the room.
"Delin...!"
The shock of having split his head open made the queen's hands tremble. It was as though the sensation still clung to her fingertips.
"Del... ah! Hngh..."
Desperately searching for the man and grasping at empty air, she ended up tumbling off the bed.
But she had no time to feel the pain. The queen immediately staggered to her feet and called out the man's name.
"Delin! Wh-Where are you? Huh?"
The terror that she had killed her beloved, and the dread that he was no longer beside her, tormented the queen all at once.
"Your Majesty, what is the matter?!"
The knights who had been guarding the queen's chamber outside rushed in at the urgent voice from within.
"Uh, uuh..."
They saw it: the queen weeping in a fit of despair.
"De-Delin is gone... I killed him..."
"Huh?"
The knights, unable to grasp what the queen was saying, could only stare blankly.
"Aaah..." The queen looked at the dumbfounded women, sniffling, then as if struck by a sudden realization, began frantically rummaging through her drawer.
The diary she had kept since beginning Delin's training was gone. The key to his leash, the food bowl she had set aside—every last thing that held memories of him had vanished.
The queen stared blankly at the empty drawer and wondered. Did I have a long, long dream?
No. It was no dream.
His face, his skin, his scent, his expressions, his tears, his smile, his breath, even his gaze... everything was vivid.
"Summon everyone—I said now!"
Startled by the queen's sudden, harsh command, the knights bolted into the corridor to relay the order to the rest.
Lights flickered on one by one throughout the castle. The lights beneath the moonlight grew ever larger.
The queen's searing fire, which roused people from their sleep, defied the night itself.
"Go and capture him! Quickly!"
The queen cried out as if shrieking.
Inside her head, frantic delusions churned without end. No—one should call them not delusions, but a clear understanding of the situation.
It had been a Load. His death had rewound time.
"No. No. No... Absolutely not..."
The images of Philmark and Neva—both of whom had looked as though they already knew of his ability—rose to the surface. There was no guarantee the other three women did not know as well.
"I hate this, I hate it... I'm telling you I hate it..."
The queen sobbed and hurled objects. She seized whatever came to hand and flung it, looking just like a child consumed by rage.
"I hate it! I hate it!"
Amid her destructive rampage—tearing at her hair, screaming, grabbing and smashing everything—lights began to flicker on one by one throughout the castle.
"Hhk... hk..."
In the midst of the chaos, a mirror came into the queen's view. Her own reflection, flushed crimson and streaked with tears, looked so wretched and pathetic.
But what enraged her even more was... "Fuck! Aaaaaargh!"
That in the mirrored reflection, she was alone. That the man who had always woken up beside her was no longer there. And that those loathsome creatures were after him.
Jjaenggeurang-
The mirror shattered to pieces. Now the broken mirror held countless reflections.
Holding anger, sorrow, jealousy, agony, and disgust, the queen's many faces were captured within the shattered glass.
Part 1 - A Slightly Strange Dragon Knight Party
End.