Daggers Over a Date in Langestin
"We burst in right now."
Lorraine crouched, coiled as if to launch herself at any moment, and raised her jet-black.
The henchmen hurriedly rushed to stop her.
"Th-that would be a problem!"
"Just a moment, my lady. Charging in now will gain us nothing at all."
One henchman, noticeably calmer than the rest, stepped forward and spoke. Lorraine gave a slight nod, as if to say: go on.
"Our objective is to find evidence of Serne Aindark's crimes. Even if we charge in now and confront her, she'll simply remove the feather stuck in Simon Polentia's body and deny having done anything at all."
"...So you're saying that while Simon is being controlled body and soul, we're just supposed to stand by and watch?"
Simon, having fallen victim to the mind control, had become Serne's puppet. Against his own will, he moved as she commanded while his emotions were siphoned away.
As his friend, it was a sight Lorraine could barely stomach watching with open eyes.
But the henchman answered with cold composure.
"A necessary sacrifice, my lady."
At the word sacrifice, Lorraine's pupils flashed crimson.
Several henchmen let out small groans and shrank back, but the one speaking with her did not retreat.
"You must see the forest, not the trees. If we cannot expose her misdeeds now and break this vicious cycle, she will continue to target Simon Polentia from now on. She may torment him for the entirety of his years at Kizen. Do you truly wish for Simon Polentia to become unhappy, my lady?"
"......"
In the end, Lorraine drew her jet-black back in. The henchman breathed a deep, silent sigh of relief.
"Just a little longer."
Amid the heavy atmosphere, she ground her teeth.
"We will be watching."
Simon and Serne strolled through Langestin, playing the couple with practiced ease.
Simon was an expert at the escort etiquette the exams prescribed, but he'd never experienced this kind of free-roaming street date before.
And Serne remained an exhausting companion at the best of times, so it drained a considerable amount of his mental fortitude.
...I'm tired. Those tailing me had better hurry up and make their move.
Simon rolled his eyes discreetly, but the Ivory Tower's stalkers were still visible, trailing along from a distance.
"Simon, Simon! Want to try that?"
Serne was clearly having the time of her life. Shopping had long since fallen by the wayside, and the whole thing had devolved into nothing more than wandering Langestin's alleys.
"It's about time we went and bought the clo—"
"Hurry, hurry!"
Simon was seized and dragged along.
Why on earth is she this worked up?
The place she hauled him to was one of those utterly ordinary carnival stalls where you threw balls to knock down dolls and win them. Business must have been better than it looked, because no small number of couples were clustered around.
"Welcome, welcome!"
The owner came bounding out with a broad grin.
"A game for each of you?"
"Ah! I'm terrible at these sorts of things, so I'll just watch~"
Serne put on an innocent act and placed a ball into Simon's hand. A flicker of puzzlement crossed his eyes.
She's the one who wanted to play.
"Ah, customer! Could it be... are you a necromancer?"
The man had recognized him at a glance, and seemed startled by his own discovery. Rather than try to talk his way out of it, Simon simply nodded.
"Necromancer customers go over here!"
Whooosh!
Suddenly the cloth behind the dolls the other patrons were throwing at was drawn back, revealing dolls positioned nearly twice the distance away — and considerably smaller, too.
So that's how it is.
Simon gave a wry smile.
"Dark magic is prohibited. Care to take the challenge?"
"I'll give it a shot."
He never turned down a challenge.
Simon glanced back at Serne.
"What do you want?"
"That white bear over there!"
Chunk.
Simon planted his legs shoulder-width apart, settled his stance, and lifted one knee.
He swept the ball, held in both hands, back over his head and brought it down through his chest, then drove his legs forward and hurled it with all his strength.
FWOOSH!
Pure, raw strength — forged through territory work and martial training.
It didn't sound like a thrown ball so much as a fired artillery shell. Ordinary bystanders jumped and stared at Simon in shock.
Whum!
The ball grazed the very edge of the doll and sailed just past it. Simon clicked his tongue.
"So close~ Fighting, fighting!"
Serne waved her arms in encouragement.
Honestly, he hadn't thought much of it at first, but once he actually started, a stubborn competitive streak kindled in him. Someone was cheering him on, and there was quite a crowd watching.
He decided to give it his all.
Simon's face turned serious. He grabbed another ball and threw it the same way.
FWOOSH! — this time the ball clipped the doll's ear and dropped to the ground.
"Ahh! So close!"
The owner worked the crowd. A peculiar smile tugged at the corner of Simon's mouth.
I've got a rough idea what's going on here.
He'd caught on. His enthusiasm drained somewhat, but he gave his best and threw the final ball anyway.
This one struck the doll squarely in the side — and still the doll didn't fall. The owner let out a booming laugh.
"Haha! What a shame about that last ball! Care to go another round?"
"No thanks, I'll quit while I'm ahead. It was fun."
Simon turned away without a hint of regret. Serne, looking disappointed, pulled out some coins.
"Then it's my turn next!"
With her athletic ability, there was zero chance she'd hit anything. Simon moved to stop her, but she had already paid the owner.
"Simon, go buy me some ice cream over there!"
"? We just had some, though."
"I want more! Oh! The ice cream man is moving somewhere else!"
She fussed and nagged until Simon gave in with a sigh and trudged off to get ice cream.
"Yap!"
Left alone, Serne hopped in place and hurled the ball in a wild, flailing, hopeless form — limbs everywhere. The ball didn't even fly straight; it slammed into the ground and bounced away.
Laughter rippled from every corner of the crowd.
"The lady's adorable."
"Give it your best shot~!"
The men watching snickered among themselves.
The moment Simon vanished into the crowd on his ice cream errand, Serne lifted the corner of her mouth into a smile, swept up her long ivory hair, and gathered it over one shoulder.
A white feather slipped out from among the strands, and she closed her hand around it along with the ball, hidden from every eye.
She hopped in place again and threw.
Everyone watching assumed she would fail this time, too.
FWAAAAAAM!
Suddenly the ball was engulfed in lightning, streaking away as a single dazzling flash of light.
"What...?"
The onlookers wore dumbfounded expressions.
KWAKWAKWAKWAKWAKWA-BOOM!
The moment the ball struck the center of the doll, the wooden floor beneath it exploded outright, and from within burst what looked like a massive steel pillar.
They hadn't simply placed the doll on the display stand — it had been bolted down with steel.
Not content with merely exposing the floor, the ball kept going, shattering the wall behind it and bringing the entire warehouse structure crashing down.
"......"
"......"
KUGUGUGUGUGU!
Black dust swallowed the surroundings.
The owner, mouth agape, eyes darting wildly in sheer panic, caught sight of Serne approaching and was seized with terror.
"Enjoying yourselves, messing with necromancers?"
She smiled sweetly, produced a coin pouch from her subspace pocket, and dropped it at his feet with a light thud.
"This is for the repairs. Business, flourish~"
She strode away, her ivory hair fluttering behind her.
Just then Simon arrived with an ice cream in each hand, and Serne — as if nothing whatsoever had happened — hurried to greet him with the dainty steps of a proper lady.
"What in the world was all that?"
"No idea~! Must've been a malfunction!"
Once the two of them had gone, the owner sank to the ground where he stood.
His trousers were already soaked through.
They stopped by several clothing shops as well, but Serne declared nothing to her taste, glanced around idly, and moved on.
Perhaps noticing Simon was growing weary, she showed some flexibility and paid a visit to a necromancer supply shop — the kind of place Simon actually loved.
His focus came back to life like a fish returned to water.
"Buy that one."
Serne spoke up after Simon had spent ages lingering in front of a Skeleton Archer set.
"Ah, I'll pay for this one myself!"
"I told you I'm covering the shopping."
Before Simon could get another word out, Serne was already at the counter, paying.
Perhaps because she was so wealthy, her habit was consistent: money first, questions later.
"Customer, I'm sorry, but we have only one Vanilla Brand set left in stock."
the clerk said, checking the inventory.
"What about other brands?"
It had to be Vanilla or nothing. When Simon gave the clerk a look that said exactly that, the man handed over a clipboard and pen.
"If you write down your address, we can deliver within two days."
"Can you deliver to Roc Island?"
"Of course!"
The shop was cramped and crowded, so Simon and Serne stepped outside briefly to fill out the form.
"Ugh, terrible handwriting."
The clerk had written it himself, yet the letters were scrawled so wildly they were nearly illegible.
Serne, holding up a hand mirror and checking her makeup, pointed at a spot on the form.
"Looks like the name goes here. And the address goes underneath."
"Ah, right."
Simon nodded — and at the very instant he lowered his quill to write—
KWAAAAAARAAAAM!
Without warning, black shells came screaming down from the sky and exploded.
Flames shot up from buildings as people began screaming and fleeing.
"KYAAAAAAAH!"
"Terrorists! It's a terror attack!"
The fabric of an ordinary, peaceful day tore apart, and the street was plunged into chaos in an instant.
"What's going on?"
Simon sprang to his feet.
Thwang!
Before he was even fully standing, a crimson dagger buried itself in the form he'd been about to write on.
"Oh ho, I was wondering when you'd show up."
Serne smiled sweetly and conjured a single feather at her fingertip. She flicked it into the air, and with a CLANG! of impact, the dagger was neutralized and slammed into the ground.
"Step back, Simon~"
Moments later, a streak of deep black light plummeted down like a comet.
Serne drew out a flurry of feathers and scattered them in front of her. KWA-KWA-BOOM! — a massive detonation tore through the air.
Simon recoiled in alarm, and through the smoke of the explosion, two girls came into view — dagger and feather locked against each other, glaring daggers of their own.
"From Simon—!"
Sparks flew in the black-haired attacker's eyes.
"How dare you make him use his!"
Simon's eyes went wide.
"L-Lorraine?"
Behind her, henchmen cloaked in black robes descended one by one.
They were surrounded in an instant, but Serne's face remained serenely composed as she smiled in a full, easy curve.
"It was getting tiresome, the way you kept slinking around like a spy cat, peeking at me. I'd been wondering when you'd finally come down."
Now it was the sky above Serne's side that darkened — dark magic of every kind, flames and lightning bolts and more, came pouring down. Lorraine and the henchmen hastily fell back to evade.
"Ah!"
They were the Ivory Tower's stalkers from before.
Apparently they'd blocked the surprise attack with defensive magic, for not one of them appeared harmed.
"I will take Serne myself."
Lorraine said, turning to the henchmen.
They nodded and moved to engage the Ivory Tower's stalkers. At the same moment, Lorraine and Serne clashed, and a thunderous roar rolled out across the street. Feather and dagger met in a dazzling flurry.
"You know~ it's been getting on my nerves lately, the way you keep watching me. Time I fixed that habit of yours for good."
Serne added, threading feathers between her fingers.
"I'll turn you into a dog and have you lick my shoes clean."
"You'll have a hole through your neck before that happens!"
And just like that, Kizen and the Ivory Tower collided in the middle of the street.