Behind the Stage
Once out in the hall, Arendt paused in the corridor for a moment and tilted his ear toward the noise.
The instant the auction began, a bedlam of voices came pouring out. Even with a system where the highest bid was announced every fifteen minutes, it seemed impossible to fully suppress the commotion.
The servants scurrying about looked just as frantic. With food flying back and forth without pause, none of them seemed to have a spare thought for an apprentice knight slipping out alone on an errand.
Pop one of the pastries he'd set aside into his mouth, take a step, pop another in — Arendt began ambling along at a leisurely pace.
People bustled here and there across the first and second floors, hardly ever out of sight.
Every so often he spotted someone slipping out to contact their home mid-auction. Apparently the prices were climbing faster than expected.
Pretending to survey the second floor, Arendt soon set his foot on the stairs to the third.
Unlike the hectic floors below, not a trace of human presence reached the third. Since there was no plan to use it today, the lights had been left off as well.
Arendt strolled unhurriedly down the darkened corridor.
Thud. Thud. … An even rhythm of footsteps etched itself into the darkness.
It felt as though the din of moments ago had been nothing but a lie.
Poorly tidied, the third floor lay strewn with assorted furnishings, abandoned wherever they happened to be. Sculptures shoved aside during the renovation sat draped in a fine layer of dust, and here and there carpets hung against the walls to keep the mold at bay.
It was the silence of backstage — an utterly familiar kind.
Arendt didn't stop. He walked on, slowly, one step at a time.
Thud, thud.
How much time had passed?
Quite suddenly, an alien presence stirred behind him.
Halting dead in his tracks, Arendt let out one long, deep sigh.
"…Honestly, I don't much care for doing this kind of thing either."
The muttered grumble, pitched too low for anyone to hear, was a bonus.
"The current bid stands at three thousand two hundred gold!"
A crisp but resounding cry shook the hall.
Kendrick let out a low groan.
"Everyone's bolder than I gave them credit for."
"It seems they've come with real intent."
Diana grumbled as well, sweeping her hair back in irritation.
All three commanders had put in their bids, and once again the figure that emerged blew far past their expectations.
"Collectors' appetites are monstrous. This won't end quickly, I suspect."
Arthur, who had been quietly observing the proceedings, shook his head. Benjamin and Helen stood dumbly where they were, unable even to think of jumping in.
"Next time we'll have to go higher."
"I wonder if we won't be beaten to death by His Highness the Crown Prince the moment we return."
When Diana made her plaintive remark, Laios answered with complete seriousness.
Another round went by, and then a thunderous declaration burst out.
"Four thousand one hundred gold has been offered!"
At an amount beyond imagination, the faces of the nobles went pale in an instant. Kendrick, by contrast, wore a triumphant smile.
"Seems I hold the highest bid this time. There was some merit in overreaching after all."
"F-Four thousand gold…"
Benjamin murmured, dazed. That was a sum even fairly wealthy magnates would hesitate to touch. Helen, apparently feeling much the same, muttered with a hollow look.
"Surely it won't climb any higher than this?"
"I'd like to think so, but."
Richt answered quietly. Staggering as it was, a few nobles could be seen stepping forward.
Arthur went white.
"There are still people willing to go further. Commander, this might not end with just a reprimand… Commander?"
Midway through his muttering, Arthur noticed how quiet the commanders had gone, and turned his head.
At some point, all three of them had frozen, faces gone cold, staring fixedly at the window.
"…Am I imagining things?"
Kendrick was the first to speak, tersely. There wasn't a trace of the playfulness from moments before in his voice.
The answer came from Laios, who had kept his silence throughout.
"No. I don't believe you are."
When the knights saw his hand drift slowly toward his sword, every one of them tensed.
"Four thousand five hundred!"
Just as another great declaration rang out, an unfamiliar silhouette flickered beyond the window.
The instant the commanders lunged out without a moment's hesitation—
KRA-KOOM!
A thick arm smashed through the window.
"Uh… what are you doing in a place like this, all alone?"
An exceedingly cautious voice drifted up from behind him.
Arendt turned his head.
Baron Cromwell stood rooted in the middle of the dark corridor. Arendt loosened the shoulders he had briefly tensed and rotated his body around.
"I was invited, to be sure, but truthfully I'm not fond of all the noise. And what brings you here, Baron Cromwell? The auction should be in full swing."
"I, I could say the same. Standing up in front of all those people, I found myself rather nervous… Whew. Though I never dreamed someone would have come up here before me."
The Baron exhaled, his face drained of color, and offered a wry smile.
Dimly, the clamor of the rowdy floors below could be heard.
"Sir Arendt von Eckhart… that is correct, is it not? It seems jewels hold little interest for you, Sir."
"I've had my look, so that's enough. Where exactly would an apprentice knight find the money to buy such things?"
He had it, in fact — but Arendt shrugged with perfect nonchalance, and a faint, clouded smile spread across Baron Cromwell's lips.
"It must be hard work, serving as you do."
"It goes both ways. It's hard on you too, isn't it? Getting tangled up with a lunatic."
Arendt stared the Baron straight in the eyes.
For all the smile on his lips, the Baron's eyes were stiff with terror.
Pupils trembling beyond his control were brimming with tears not yet shed. Baron Cromwell, smile still fixed in place, flicked his lips.
"…Please spare my life."
"You needn't have asked — that was always the plan. So you can relax."
The moment the words left his mouth, the Baron drew a short dagger from his coat and lunged. Arendt twisted aside just enough to slip past the blow with ease, then knocked the man cold with a dull thunk to the back of the neck — an almost anticlimactic finish.
unconscious, the Baron crumpled to the floor where he stood, a puppet with its strings cut.
Beyond the darkened corridor, a familiar mask was watching him in silence.
The eyes behind the mask glittered.
"Sharp instincts. If you'd gone to the trouble, you should have just killed him."
"Unlike some people, I'm not in the habit of slaughtering humans."
After shoving the Baron into a corner of the corridor, Arendt rolled his shoulders in slow circles and strode straight toward Vincent.
"You're all going to die anyway. Does the order really matter that much?"
"Yes, actually. It does. Because the only one dying today is you."
In the darkness, their eyes collided.
And in the very next instant, without either yielding the first move, they kicked off the ground.
KRA-KOOM!
The violent clash kicked up a haze of dust.
Eyes wide open, Arendt glared at the man who had taken his blade. Vincent's mouth, the only part of him visible beneath the mask, curled into a grin.
"I'm absolutely delighted to be meeting you again like this."
"Same here. I'm so moved I hardly know what to do with myself."
Screech, screech.
As their locked blades strained against one another, the pleasantries flew back and forth like knives.
And then, the next moment—
KRRA-KOOOM!
A colossal impact erupted from the floor below.
But not a shade of change crossed Arendt's face. As if he had known all along that it would come to this.
Vincent let out a hollow laugh.
"Unbelievable… a mere brat, and he knew exactly how I'd move?"
"I'd say the problem is that your thinking is just too simple, Pervert Mask."
Arendt fired back flatly and swung his sword in a powerful arc. Vincent didn't bother holding his ground; he leapt far back, putting distance between them.
Truth be told, it wasn't a pleasant feeling. It was no different from falling hook, line, and sinker for a child's petty trick.
Vincent's number one target for elimination was Arendt. Under no circumstance could that brat be allowed to slip away alive.
Which was exactly why he'd had to give chase like this. If the boy had vanished from his sight, there was no telling where he might hide.
Arendt had read all of that.
"So you were confident you could take me on alone? How arrogant."
"A traitor's more than enough to deal with the likes of you."
In an instant, a wave of freezing cold surged outward, and Arendt's sword froze brilliant white. Tsk. Clicking his tongue, Vincent raised his own blade aura to meet it.
CLANG!
The two swords repelled each other with savage force.
Without a beat's delay, Arendt kicked off the floor and came charging in. Vincent deflected the attack, dispatched it cleanly, and stretched out his hand.
The next moment— ting!
As if something had bounced right off him, Vincent snatched his hand back and retreated.
"Huh?"
It was unmistakably a rejection. The artifact's power had failed to take hold and been thrown back out.
"I know you're giddy about your new toy, but you really ought to have read the fine print first."
At Arendt's jeering, Vincent — mouth hanging slightly open, his wits scattered — snapped back to his senses just in time to meet the next wave of attacks.
"Tch!"
CLANG!
He beat back the sword stroke with force, but Arendt, having seized the offensive, did not yield an inch. Defending on pure reflex, Vincent soon understood what the problem was.
Frost-Tinged Touch.
He caught sight of the corner of Arendt's mouth sliding upward.
In that moment, Vincent could be certain of it.
That bastard anticipated this situation. Every bit of it.
But how?
He had been granted the Eye of the Ruler only a short while ago. And yet already this boy had grasped its properties — and even a flaw that Vincent himself had never detected?
"…Heh. So it wasn't sheer martyrdom that let you stand in my way after all."
His lips drew a cold, slick curve. The eyes behind the mask transformed, suddenly, into something like a beast's.
"I'll be changing the plan. No matter what it takes, you're coming with me."
"KYAAAAAH!"
A scream from some unknown throat tore through the air — only to be swallowed by the deafening roar of shattering walls.
A golem three times the size of an ordinary man wedged itself through the shattered window and forced its way inside.
"Wh-what is that? What IS that thing?"
"Where the hell did it come from?!"
And there wasn't just one. Through the gap in the collapsed wall, KU-BOOM — another golem's thick arm burst forth.
Everyone, noble and servant alike, began stampeding for the exits.
The knights drew their swords at once.
"Commander Laios!"
As Neumann came scrambling out from within, Laios shouted urgently.
"Stay back — do not come closer! Please keep the guests and staff together as best you can — do not let them scatter!"
The garden visible beyond the half-collapsed wall was a field of wreckage. The security guards had fled in utter panic, and the hired mercenaries tried valiantly to hold their ground, but they were just as helpless.
"Sir Helen, Sir Benjamin, Arthur! Go with Guildmaster Neumann and protect the guests!"
"Yes, sir! Understood!"
"May fortune be with you!"
At Laios's order, the three broke away at once. As if sensing the movement, the golems that had stood eerily dormant suddenly began to shift their massive bodies.
The golem that lunged for Arthur came to an abrupt halt in place with a KU-BOOM.
Kendrick had stepped forward at some point, planting himself squarely in its path.
"Didn't expect things to come to quite this pass."
Even as he blocked a bulk several times his own size, Kendrick spoke with perfect calm.
"Destroy the core — that was the word, wasn't it?"
KRA-KOOM!
Blasting the golem back, Kendrick raised his blade aura in a blink and cleaved the stone body cleanly in two.
Stripped of its core, the golem collapsed into a heap of rubble.
"Not so difficult after all."
It was the signal for the real battle to begin.