A Woman with No Eye for Men (6)

Sunlight spilled across the desk like a carelessly tossed corpse. The desk protested with a puff of dust, but the sun jeered and hurled down even more light in mockery. The pages of a nightmare that hadn't vanished with the dawn fluttered atop it. Fragmented phrases gleamed strangely, chorusing together beneath the beam.

As if even taking it in with her ears would be blasphemy, Anna slid the documents and sketches back into the envelope. She shoved them into the roughly yanked-open drawer and slammed it shut with a sharp thunk.

"So. What do you make of it?"

Anna spoke from the patch of deepest shadow, where the brightest sunlight passed by—making it feel all the darker for it. Cain answered on instinct.

"A warning laced with bravado."

"In what way?"

"They didn't kill and display the victims—they neutralized and left them alive, but handled them as roughly as possible. Like toying with prey, plucking off an ant's antennae instead of just crushing it flat. That's my first impression."

Cain shook his head. Things too bizarre crossed a line into the realm of absurd fantasy or outright fiction, devoid even of the prick of a needle's reality. Legends, ghost stories, or ancient sketches felt more fitting. And so, he returned to practical questions he could grasp.

"Did the Imperial Guard draw up the sketches and report?"

"No. The Pope sent them."

"Where are the survivors?"

"They're silent on the first victim, Abbot Arius's whereabouts, but they did reveal William Archbishop and his minions' location. Otranto Sealed Abbey, east of Count Lorenz's territory. It should have been a place severed from the secular world, off-limits even to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Pope... but even he had no time for protocol. That says how urgent it is."

Of course, they couldn't just send patients like these to an ordinary hospital. No doubt Abbot Arius was being cared for in some other abbey as well.

"The Pope's sending his own investigators. But the Church's power is tangled up with the secular just like kudzu and vines, so they're struggling with personnel. They'll dispatch when ready... but honestly, I'm skeptical. If they had that capability from the start, they wouldn't have come to us. Whoever the Pope sends will likely be more overseer than ally. They won't interfere, at least—but they'll report back to him on what you see and hear."

Words to keep in mind. And a reminder of how nebulous the whole affair was. But they had to dive in. You couldn't tell if a door swung open easily or stood firm as a wall until you shoved it with your shoulder.

Debating the possible from grotesque sketches and outlandish letters was embarrassing. And Cain was a seasoned Security Bureau agent.

"Understood. I'll start at Otranto Abbey."

Anna outlined the rough guidelines Cain should follow. Not everything in detail—those would be settled with Security Bureau Chief Verneis, waiting at the academy's east gate. So she covered matters the chief couldn't decide herself.

First: He could draw not just on the Bureau's intelligence and funds, but the Imperial Guard's resources too. The Bureau and Guard overlapped in many ways, but the key difference was their devotion. The Bureau served the Empire; the Guard ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠existed solely for the Emperor and imperial family. In essence, Anna was offering her utmost support.

Second: Periodic reports. Given the gravity, they'd go directly to Anna, not Chief Verneis. That explained her access to Guard assets across the Empire. Once a report arrived, couriers would ride day and night to deliver it swiftly. Naturally, in code—Vigenère cipher, with keys drawn from each hero's epithet. For reports on the Knight of Purity, William, the key would be "Purity."

Third: Cain's exact mandate.

"Do what you deem necessary. Your decisions are mine. If you say so, I'll understand and accept it as such. Recruit more allies if needed; discard them anytime you wish. But remember, the priority is uncovering the truth. Only..."

Anna hesitated. It felt like committing another sin. But only briefly.

"At least take Lily with you to Otranto Abbey."

"Lily, you mean?"

"Yes. Not just as your subordinate. There's a more practical reason. We have high hopes for you, but we don't want to overburden you. Like protecting the other five heroes, for instance."

Cain recalled: When he'd arrived, Anna had mentioned Lily's father, the White Blood Knight Order leader, was on campus.

"Is the White Blood Knight Order escorting the heroes?"

"Not exclusively. They'll linger nearby in disguise, on alert. Like covert protection. The Pope's Grail Knights and Heretic Inquisition handle most hero escorts. The knights will mask their presence, but with Lily at your side, at least you won't face ambushes in dark alleys. Of course, it's your call in the end. I knew student Lily better, but agent Lily? You know her better than I do."

Anna pulled a sealed envelope from another drawer and handed it over.

"Anything too sensitive for this room is in here. Procedures to follow, tasks, Guard contact protocols. Even Verneis can't know this. Companions may pick up bits during the investigation—that's unavoidable—but the contact codes and report channels must stay hidden."

Cain understood. Even as a Bureau section chief, he hadn't known of hidden Guard branches across the Empire. That was country-chief or higher intel.

A natural question arose.

"Why me, specifically?"

"Many reasons, but the one I can tell you is simple: No one knows your hometown."

Cain gave a wry smile. To others—even Anna—he was the "eldest son of an orchard free farmer." Bureau agents were mostly noble scions, entangled in noble interests. Anna had wanted someone outside all that.

"That's why Lily too. The White Blood Knights are the Empire's most insular armed enclave. A monastery of the sword... Factions feud internally, but they have no deep ties to outside nobles. If anything, more trustworthy."

"You suspect the electors?"

"All possibilities open. But—premature as it is—I doubt it. If they had that power, they'd have used it on rival electors or the capital, not harmless heroes they have no reason to touch. Still, electors, dukes, even nameless country barons—someone will twist this tragedy to their gain. I don't want to see that."

Having seen its fill, the sunlight hid behind clouds. With the barrier of light gone, shadows reemerged, linking the two once more. Cain nodded and reached for the documents Anna had laid out.

Her pale, slender hand gently covered the back of his. Soft, yet warm. But her lips, her throat—they faltered. Not from lack of words, nor uncertainty how ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to voice them, but from the sheer abundance she yearned to share.

Yet only one emerged from that multitude.

"Take care of yourself. Always. Everywhere."

It took Cain a long while to rise with his staff in hand. As he grasped the doorknob—

"Cain. The staff..."

Anna mustered her courage at last. As always, she skirted the heart.

"Does the staff... suit your hand well?"

"Yes. Better than expected. Comfortable, too."

"Is that so? In what way?"

"I can swing it wildly without worry."

Anna said no more. Cain bid farewell and left the room.

"Haa..."

The sun, tilted askew, shone on the spot where her old pupil had stood. Suddenly, Anna wondered if her room wasn't too vast. A thought she'd never had before. The expanse filled with emptiness; gazing into it, she felt hunger pangs. Unthinkingly, her lips had stretched—ow—and she pressed a finger to them. The bitten spot had reopened, blood trickling.

Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap.

A knock. One Anna knew well. Only one person ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the Empire knocked like that.

"Come in."

The door opened, and a robust man entered. Like one who'd let muscle go to comfortable padding, he carried a fitting layer of flesh and solid weight. But if he willed it, reclaiming his youthful build would be child's play—even now, with gray streaking his temples. For the moment, though, he merely sank into the seat before his wife with hollowed eyes.

"What happened to your lip?"

"Bit it. No—don't get up. There's ointment in the infirmary. I'll go later. I said don't get up."

"What if it scars."

Former Imperial Commander-in-Chief, current Prime Minister—husband to Anna in both roles—Nicky Brienne forced himself back down.

Anna thought to change the subject.

"How'd the talk go?"

"As well as could be. The White Blood Knight leader promised more troops than I expected. But the reason's hardly pleasant. The order's in an uproar."

"The order? What happened?"

"Succession issues."

Nicky rubbed his brow.

"Doesn't make sense. Even setting aside the eldest who's married off, just grant the second daughter succession rights and be done."

"Dear. I know you're tired, but saying that to my face? You know full well what happens when siblings get equal claim."

Anna feigned offense. Naturally, to lift her husband's spirits a bit. But Nicky looked deeply troubled.

"Different from us. At least no one's sick here. The leader's son's prognosis is grim."

"What? I thought he was improving. Guard reports said so."

"Me too. But the fever's held for three days straight. Wound won't heal at all. Problem is, he's the sole heir. If the leader dies without naming a successor, the White Blood Knights hold their own tournament for the next one. And the leader himself... worries me. Hard to believe he even came to the capital in that state."

The White Blood Knight leader was already old—older than most. Rumors swirled that only his ailing son kept him alive.

"Anyway, the order's buzzing. Can't ignore tournament talk. The leader knows it— that's why he's dispatching knights willy-nilly. That's the unpleasant part."

Anna got it. Knights seasoned enough for command would eye the top spot. Sending them on tedious disguised protection duty? Virtual punishment. Protecting Demon King-slayers left no room to refuse, fueling resentment all the more.

"Worrisome. I told Lily to see her father, but her reaction was off—could that be why?"

"...Huh? What? That woman's the White Blood leader's daughter?"

Nicky seemed genuinely shocked. Anna couldn't fathom why.

He sighed as if he'd known all along.

"Good lord... You know that big plaza by the side paulownia hall? Central library and cafeteria—students and profs everywhere. Lunch hour, no less... And there's the White Blood leader, right in the middle, chewing out some tall blonde woman in front of his men!"