Round 2 (2)

Day had barely broken when Ruka came calling. Without a word of greeting, he clasped the bracelet around my wrist.

"With more time I could have refined it further, but I judged this no hour for dallying."

It was the Bracelet of Sacrifice, the one he'd borrowed promising to rework it. The design seemed a touch sleeker, perhaps, though outwardly it hadn't changed much.

"You'll get three uses out of it. Bear in mind that once triggered, it needs a full year at minimum to recharge."

"Three times?"

My eyes went wide before he'd even finished.

"I had no choice but to wring more out of it." Ruka looked none too pleased about it.

"Doomsteel is scarce enough as it is, but the Awoken Ability bound into that bracelet is the kind you can't simply bestow twice. It ought to have been done properly at the forge, and that damned Yanosi went and threw away his one chance... Tsk."

"This is more than I could ever ask for. Thank you, Uncle."

I bowed my head to him. Three spare lives — and here I wasn't even a cat.

Once Ruka had gone, I chaired a meeting of the senior officers. Vice-Commander Thalia, 1st Squad Leader Vitten, and Shaka — recently elevated to 2nd Squad Leader — were in attendance. Srudal was excluded, being off in the underground surveying its ecology.

"We're working to identify the corpse," Thalia reported.

"Intelligence has it that Labo, 2nd Squad Leader of Count Abaro's knight order, the 'Black Swan,' hasn't been seen since two days ago. Labo is an Awoken Ability user who moves by passing through solid objects. A suspicious power to begin with — and now a man who kept close protection on the Count day and night has suddenly vanished. For the moment, he is our prime suspect."

So I had cornered the assassin too hard, then. My meridian seizures had been flaring the whole while; pacing my strength hadn't exactly been on the table.

She handed me a single sheet of paper.

"This is the appraisal of the murder weapons."

Something had struck me as odd back then — and sure enough, there was a sure-hit effect attached.

On their own, the items' performance was middling at best. The frightening part was the set effect. Fail the mission, and you died in your target's place.

"I did try tracing the intruder's route by scent," Vitten offered.

"They'd already laid their countermeasures. Followed the scent trail straight into a lungful of tear poison — nearly killed me."

So they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had prepared for his nose. Well, those people weren't fools either.

They had staked their lives on this. The weapons had surely been bought through the black market, and the assassin's movements laundered through any number of channels.

"The constables are making inquiries into Labo's whereabouts. If anything more concrete surfaces, I will report at once."

"Do we even need evidence?"

Shaka asked it in a tone that genuinely couldn't see why it mattered.

"You're standing in for His Grace the Grand Duke, my lord. Anyone who tries to kill you forfeits the right to complain, no matter what's done to them."

"And without evidence, do what, exactly?" Vitten asked.

"Round up the Count's men and torture them, obviously. Doesn't matter whether the Count is the real culprit. What matters is sending the message — step out of line, and this is what happens. No?"

"Hey, what happens if that touches off a rebellion?"

"Then we kill them all."

Shaka answered with the eyes of a dead fish.

"You don't become Grand Duke by killing everyone who gets on your nerves, Shaka."

"Obviously we wouldn't kill them openly. More of a quiet little swish-swish, shall we say."

Shaka grinned like the mere picture of it delighted her. I settled for sighing.

"Thalia — is the information being kept tight?"

"Yes, my lord. Aside from Bishop Colin and our own officers, the head maid is the only one who laid eyes on the scene."

I gathered up the thoughts drifting through my head.

"...All right."

Then I made the call.

"Let's try it this way."

From that day on, a certain rumor began to spread at speed: that Labo, 2nd Squad Leader of the Black Swan knight order, had been arrested while attempting to assassinate Young Lord Iden.

The ducal fief erupted at the shocking news.

"Count Abaro has finally crossed the line. However badly his investments soured, to raise a hand against the lord regent himself..."

"We can't say for certain Labo is the culprit. He could have been hired by someone else, no?"

"Labo is the Count's loyal hound through and through. I'd call that unlikely."

My attempted assassination became the hottest topic in the whole fief — so hot that wherever two or more people gathered, the Count's name came up without fail.

My conclusion was this: there was no need to bend ourselves out of shape prosecuting the Count.

Instead, I would let the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠people do the imagining. I tossed out the bait and let them wag their own tongues into painting the Count as a villain.

And so...

Day after day, vital intelligence from the investigation leaked out of the ducal castle. All of it, of course, seeded at my instruction.

What I wanted to know was whether Count Abaro would play his 'real Labo' card to soothe a public opinion that was detonating in real time.

I had several scenarios prepared for that contingency, but the Count held his silence right up until the Council of Nobles had withered to a quarter of its size.

Instead, an unexpected visitor appeared at the ducal castle — a slight man of small stature, in spectacles.

"Do you remember me, my lord?"

"Viscount Verden, was it not."

"You do remember. Heh heh."

I remembered him as the man forever glued to Count Abaro's side. At long last, one of the Count's innermost circle had broken ranks.

"What business brings you here?"

"I judged it necessary to prove my loyalty, lest Your Lordship labor under any misunderstanding."

"What misunderstanding?"

"The misunderstanding that I keep company with a coward who would send assassins."

Viscount Verden laughed without much conviction.

"Did you bring something useful to the investigation?"

"Please, have this."

The documents he handed over were no smoking gun tying Count Abaro to the crime. But they went a long way toward explaining the assassin I had seen some days before.

In short, Laszlo had not been the only one Count Abaro had abused. He had driven a number of knights to the very brink of mental collapse and reduced them to a kind of thralldom — and the knights so enslaved were said to be abnormal enough to fling their lives away for the Count without a second thought.

"Thank you, Viscount Verden. This will help."

"Th-thank you..."

Relief flashed across the viscount's eyes.

I was grateful for the documents. But a man who had betrayed his own lord was not a man I could take into my service.

I decided this was the moment to drive in the wedge.

"It's about time we moved Labo to the North Tower."

The North Tower was a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠barless prison that housed highborn criminals convicted of grave crimes. A prisoner could roam freely within its walls, but with guards posted at the door, no one walked out.

"The 'false Labo,' you mean, my lord."

Thalia double-checked.

"That's right. We escort the prisoner straight across the main avenue in broad daylight. It should make quite the spectacle — enough to make the Count's eyes roll back in his head."

"Then we must take precautions that the illusion isn't seen through."

"It won't be an illusion. I'll transform into Labo myself."

Thalia regarded me in silence for a long moment.

"There is no need for you to take the ugly role upon yourself, my lord."

"No. This one only I can do."

I couldn't stake something this important on a body double. The Count might well try to eliminate 'Labo' midway through the escort — and no one else would be able to respond when the unexpected came.

A few days passed, and at last the day of the escort operation arrived. The sunlight was unusually warm that morning. There could be no finer day to be locked in a tower.

"Are you ready, my lord?"

Thalia had stepped close to the bars to murmur it. I gave the smallest of nods.

"Move out!"

At Thalia's command, the escort column set off. Knowing my facial acting was nothing to boast of, I sat meekly in the cage and kept my head bowed low.

"That's him! That's Labo!"

"The impostor shows himself!"

No sooner had the column started moving than crowds came pouring into the streets, all of them insisting they simply had to see the criminal's face.

"Fall back!"

"Do not come any closer!"

The knights brooked no one nearing the cage. They knew exactly who — and what — the false Labo was, and they were desperate to keep me safe.

"Filthy-looking wretch, just like they said."

"Someone put him up to it, sure as sunrise! Out with the name!"

Jeers and abuse rained down without end. The plan to put 'Labo' on display before the masses was working beautifully. Everything was unfolding exactly as I had intended.

"You filthy traitor bastard!"

A rock sailed in through the bars and cracked off the back of my skull.

"You dare lay hands on Young Lord Iden?! Eat this and drop dead!"

This time it was an egg. It was touching, really, how much they worried for me — it would have been more touching if the egg hadn't been rotten.

"Ptui!"

A moment later, somebody hocked up a loogie. How was that spit carrying that far? Was that an Awoken Ability too?

"Y-you people... did you not hear me say to keep your distance!"

Thalia shouted, visibly rattled. It was the first time I had ever seen her stumble over her words.

And so, baptized in the refuse of an enraged mob, I arrived at the tower. I don't believe three hours had ever felt so long in all my life.

Inside, I handed the duty over to Shaka, who had been waiting for me. Now it was time to test the Count's patience.

My master used to say it: a formation with nothing but a Death Gate is a doomed formation.

Only when a Life Gate — a path of survival — is left open in one corner does a trap become truly complete.

The Life Gate I had left open was this: Labo has not yet betrayed his backer.

Five days passed since the false Labo had been locked away. Then, in the dead-quiet hour before dawn, when even the stars seemed to have drifted off to sleep, a black-clad figure appeared on the windowsill of the tower's topmost floor.

The masked intruder descended from the window without a whisper of sound. His target was the bed where the man presumed to be Labo lay.

At that very instant, the room blazed with light. Shaka, who had been lying in the bed, shot upright.

I burst out of hiding as well, shedding my stealth arts. Hemmed in front and back, the masked man did not hesitate — he pressed his dagger straight up beneath his own chin.

"Don't move."

Shaka's command fell cold as frost. The man's arm locked in place. For all that he strained until the cords of his forearm seemed ready to burst, he could not drive the blade a single millimeter further.

"You ought to submit to commands, like a good little rat."

Shaka's black eyes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gleamed as her Telecontrol bore down on the intruder's will and crushed it flat.

"Well met, Sir Boscque."

I inclined my head to the masked man in greeting.

"......"

His eyes bulged — as if to demand how I had seen through him.

"Word has it the 'Black Swan's' 3rd Squad Leader Awakened with a gift for leaping."

I drew the dagger from his hand. Sure enough, a hidden dart sat in his mouth.

Only an appraisal would tell me for certain, but I'd wager this dagger and dart carried effects much like the set items recovered just days before.

"Now, then."

Once I had him disarmed, I patted the spot beside the bed.

"Let's have ourselves a nice, honest chat."