Fear Makes People Honest
Confronted with something truly frightening, people naturally turn honest and accepting.
I had never cared for conversing with someone who would not show me their face. Being avoided like a monster, being answered through a closed door, being addressed through any means but a living voice — I despised every last one of them with gritted teeth. That was how I had been treated my entire life, growing up in the Draikna royal household.
I could never fathom what went through the minds of those who hid their faces from me — how they could be perfectly at ease with everyone else, yet shun me alone as terrifying and call it only natural. Being turned away like that twisted something in my chest.
"Is this how the information guild treats people? Shoving a magic board at them and calling it service?"
"Surely you don't exchange nothing but written messages with your ordinary customers. Do I look that dangerous? Dangerous enough that a simple face-to-face conversation is out of the question?"
For a long while, no new words appeared on the magic board.
"I-I'm terribly sorry. That was very rude of me. I had already heard the rumors that you were frightening, so I judged that I shouldn't approach you carelessly. This girl was wrong a hundred times over — please, I beg you, let go of your anger."
From behind the blackout curtains came a voice, apologizing with meticulous courtesy.
"The door is open — you may come in."
She was kindly inviting me into her office.
"Then I shall come in."
I took hold of the door handle of the curtained room. A woman who had never once set eyes on me, yet had begun our acquaintance by turning me away at the door. What manner of face would she have, I wondered?
Click.
I pressed the handle down and slowly pushed the door forward. Hood drawn up, grey cloak wrapped about me, I stepped one footfall at a time into the room. And there I looked upon the woman inside—
"KYAAAH!"
She let out a shriek and toppled straight over.
Had my entrance been too menacing a production? I suppose when a terrifying man in a grey cloak walks into a sealed room with no exits and stands there staring you down in silence, even a branch master of the information guild might just fall out of her chair.
CRASH!
She fell so violently that I — the one who had begged to be let in — almost felt sorry. A timid woman, apparently. Or perhaps simply a cautious one.
I stole a glance at her face: indigo hair bobbed at her shoulders, and a black mask across her features. Apparently she met everyone masked, not only me. A peculiar woman in more ways than one.
"Are you all right?"
I asked the woman, who had vanished from view behind her desk.
"I-I'm s-sorry! I don't usually m-make mistakes like this, I swear..."
The branch master poked her head up over the desk, saw me waiting meekly in the visitor's chair, and picked herself up off the floor. She dusted herself down and settled back into her seat. She seemed to attempt a calm look at me, then flinched her gaze away and scooted her chair back toward the farthest corner of the room.
No matter how harmlessly I sat, as far away as I could manage, being alone in a room with me was evidently too much. I graciously paid no mind to whether she cowered in the corner or not.
"Do you wear that mask for your other clients as well, or was it just for me?"
"Y-yes! It's because I have a terrible scar on my face... no, wait, that's not it. The truth is, I have circumstances that require me to conceal my identity."
She lied as smoothly as water flowing, then stole a glance at my face and decided to simply tell the truth. She must have instinctively grasped that provoking or defying me would be unwise. Everyone became like that, once they actually came face to face with me. Not a thought of lying, not a trace of insolence left.
Confronted with something truly frightening, people naturally turn honest and accepting.
"I won't ask you to remove the mask. You seem to have your reasons, so I'll let it pass."
"Y-yes! Th-thank you."
She bowed her head. Sitting there before me, she had gone docile as a hostage with her hands and feet bound.
"By the way, why the blackout curtains? They've made the room rather dark."
I asked, nodding at the curtains that had swallowed the window whole. Thanks to them, I could not see out, and no one could see in.
"That's because I handle only secret and sensitive information transactions. This room is reserved for VIP clients, and I judged that you, Lord Demesis, more than qualified."
"Hmm. A VIP."
So she considered me a person of importance, did she? Well, if she knew anything about me, mistreating me would have been difficult. I was a prince of the Draikna Kingdom, after all — and someone everyone feared for my excessively terrifying face and power.
"W-w-would you care for a cup of tea? I have fine tea on hand, the kind only nobles drink."
Belatedly attempting hospitality, was she. But she could not bring herself a single centimeter closer, whimpering all the while. She seemed to want to feign composure; her body plainly disagreed. Her mouth offered me tea while her feet kept retreating backward.
"It's quite all right. Let us proceed to the matter at hand before you find yourself in tears. I have come to consult about mana control items."
"M-me? Cry? Th-that's rather harsh of you. Urk... but d-did you say mana control items?"
Alone with me in a dark room like this — how terrifying it must be. Inwardly, I concluded that merely not bursting into tears made her a woman of considerable fortitude. She rallied her pride to argue back, but could not keep it up for long before asking after my business.
"My mana is so potent that even when I do nothing at all, it leaks from my body and bears down on those around me. As you can see for yourself right now. I need an item to control the mana that escapes me. Do you know of anything of the sort?"
"A mana control item, you say? For regulating the mana flowing out of your body?"
She repeated my words back to me, slowly arriving at an understanding of my purpose.
"The cloak and hood I wear, and this bracelet as well — all of them are mana control items."
For reference, I unclasped the bracelet from my left arm and floated it across to her with telekinesis.
"W-wait just a moment. You're telling me the leakage is that strong, even while wearing a mana control item?"
"It is."
Her mouth hung open, dumbfounded.
"And this looks to be quite a high-grade item in its own right."
"A court mage made it for me. If it can be managed, I would also like to know how to repair the thing — it seems determined to fall apart."
And so my explanation of the items went on.
"The court mages of the Draikna Kingdom belong to the 'Root' school of the Magic Tower. For the bracelet, an inquiry to them should do the trick. I'll ask the Tower's mages on your behalf."
Examining the bracelet, she laid out how it might be mended. I already knew which branch of the Magic Tower our kingdom's court mages belonged to.
"What grade of mana control item are you looking for? If you've come to the information guild in person, I take it you're not after anything ordinary."
"Something better than that bracelet or this cloak. If you know of any legendary- or mythic-grade mana control items, I would have you tell me of them."
At the very least, I wanted something superior to a court mage's custom commission. With the Academy beginning soon, I would need far stronger suppression.
"I'll have to inquire with the Magic Tower about that as well. A few items do come to mind, but most have been lost or are simply impossible to obtain."
"Impossible to obtain? For instance?"
"The Giant King's Gauntlets. An ancient artifact, they say, forged to hold back the giants' monstrous strength. I remember reading in a book that they lie buried somewhere in a dungeon in the Northern Demonic Realm — but a dungeon, inside a demonic realm, so naturally they'd be terribly hard to find..."
The demonic realms were lands crawling with monsters; dungeons, spaces overflowing with traps and beasts. Hence the common wisdom that neither was a place one simply walked into.
None of which was any concern of mine.
"Then there is no problem. If you know its exact location, tell me."
"Pardon?"
"The Giant King's Gauntlets. Whether they lie buried in a dungeon within the demonic realm or in the belly of some monster is beside the point. Give me accurate information and the location, and I will find them."
"Ah..."
I had cleansed the Western Demonic Realm itself — what reason had I to flinch at another? If I saw a monster, I could simply pop it with telekinesis, and a dungeon was there to be entered and dug through.
Grasping my meaning, she blinked at me for a moment.
"I-if you go in person, Lord Demesis, then anywhere would be fine, wouldn't it? In that case, I shall tell you of the best mana control items I know of, one by one. I can also contact the Magic Tower and run guild investigations to find you more precise, more reliable information."
She gave me a rough account of everything she knew, and then a list of what she would verify besides.
"The investigation should take a week, perhaps two. I'll need to contact the guild and the Tower."
"Then I am to return here in two weeks' time?"
"O-once our investigation is complete, we will contact you, Lord Demesis. And, um..."
"And?"
"N-nothing. Is there anything else you would like to know?"
"Not at the moment."
At the news that my business was concluded, the woman let out a long, slow breath. She had carried on our entire conversation at a full clench; apparently only now was a little of the tension ebbing away.
"How much do I owe for the information? Is it paid in advance, or after?"
"You simply pay a sum befitting each piece of information as it is given. I haven't told you much today, so in place of payment — might I ask you just one question?"
"Oh? Something you're curious about, regarding me?"
Interest in me, questions about me — always welcome. So long as they did not flee at the sight of me, I met everyone with goodwill.
"Why did you apply to the Imperial Academy?"
………
The very same question the dean had asked. People really were curious, it seemed, about why a Dragonian like me would apply to the Academy. To think I'd hear it at an information guild, of all places.
"And why do you ask?"
"Oh — I-if that was out of line, you needn't answer."
At my counter-question, she clamped her mouth shut. Eyes gone rigid. Both hands pressed carefully against her knees.
"I needed exchange with the other races. The Dragonians' reactions to me were always one and the same. Does that answer your question?"
I spoke while looking at her mask. That much should suffice as payment — she had not told me all that much yet.
"Exchange with other races, the Dragonians' reactions... Yes, understood either way. Thank you for visiting our Whispers of the Night, Lord Demesis."
She rose from her seat and bowed to me. As her head dipped, her indigo hair tumbled forward in a rush.
I regarded her a moment, accepted the bow, and walked out of the office.
That woman — something about her felt like someone of my own age. The mask hid her face, but I could tell people apart through their mana as well. Dressed like a middle-aged woman though she was, her actual presence felt far younger. Did she wear the mask because she was young?
I turned the mystery of her identity over in my mind as I set my steps toward the mansion. Once the investigation was finished, we would meet again soon enough.