The Last Supper
After saying his goodbyes, Chris stepped outside and found Charles waiting.
"Which department did you settle on?"
"The pass-token workshop. I heard you recommended me. Thank you."
"I recommended you because you're diligent. Work starts tomorrow. Come and introduce yourself first."
They went into the manufacturing hall and sought out the pass-token division. A middle-aged man, bald halfway up his scalp, was inspecting tokens.
"Hey, Ogi. New hire for your shop."
Ogi flicked a glance at Chris.
"He's a kid."
"He's diligent. And sharp."
Ogi was not pleased.
"I don't need more hands."
"A month ago you were begging for reinforcements."
Chris dipped his head.
"I'll work hard."
Ogi let out a sigh.
"Honestly, I don't want you."
"I'll age soon enough."
"It isn't your age."
"Then what is it?"
"I heard a mage tried to kill you."
"A mage... ah. You mean Alex."
Plenty of people had watched Alex come to the smithy and try to kill him.
"Alex isn't a mage. He's only at Spirit Awakening."
"Give it time, and a Spirit Awakener becomes a mage."
"He's a dunce. Dead last, and proud of the post. A man like that doesn't become a mage."
Charles clapped Ogi on the shoulder.
"Orders from the chief. Take him."
From Charles it was a light tap. From Ogi it felt like a hammer.
"Charles, easy. You'll break a bone at this rate."
"Quit your whining. I'm off. Treat him decently."
Charles left. Ogi folded his arms and looked at Chris, and an awkward silence settled over the room.
"Ahem."
Ogi cleared his throat.
"Go empty those trash bins and come back."
Chris gathered the department's bins and carried them out. He dumped the refuse at the trash yard, gave the filthy bins a quick rinse, and wiped them dry with a rag.
A little later he came back in and set each bin where it belonged. As he put the last one down, he noticed a tub of odds and ends beside it.
"Should I throw this out too?"
"Sort it first."
Chris emptied the tub and went through the contents piece by piece.
"Huh. This is..."
"What?"
Ogi turned. Chris was touching a pass token scorched and ruined by fire.
"Ah, that. Burned up at Lion Pavilion... right. You're from Lion Pavilion, aren't you?"
"Yes. Why is this here?"
"Collecting broken pass tokens for reuse is part of our job. Those things cost a fair bit to make."
"Then why haven't you reused them?"
"Bad luck."
"Bad... luck?"
"The owners died horribly. Reusing them feels unclean."
"Don't you get paid every time you deliver a pass token?"
"We do."
"Then from the smithy's point of view, the more tokens that break, the better, isn't it?"
"Better, sure. Better is better. Just not like that. Tower folk are surprisingly superstitious. Some of the craftsmen refused to so much as touch them, said the bad luck would stick. So we set them aside and forgot. I'll have to throw them out."
Chris gathered up the three ruined tokens.
"I'll throw them out."
Ogi checked him.
"You really have to throw them out. Don't get greedy and sell them for scrap."
"Yes."
Chris pocketed the victims' tokens and dug through the odds and ends. Then he found a pass token indistinguishable from new.
"This one's perfectly fine."
Ogi looked at it.
"Ah. That belonged to Prince Mark."
"You set this one aside because it felt unclean too?"
"Yes."
"It's too good to throw away."
Ogi shuddered.
"Think about what happened to the owner of that token. They tore his brain apart to inspect his soul. On top of that his eyes were gouged out, and the gouged eyes burned. If we're ranking unclean things, that one's worse than the scorched tokens."
"Even so..."
"You were just sneering at us for being filthy superstitious, weren't you?"
"I wasn't."
"Don't give me that. It's written all over your face."
He sighed and went on.
"Kid, I wasn't like this before I worked at the tower. I thought there was no such thing as ghosts in the world."
"And now you believe?"
"I do."
"Why?"
"I saw one. A woman ghost, soaked in blood, drifting through empty air. I've never been so frightened."
He shook his head.
"There's more than one mage in this tower who studies ghosts. There are mages who specialize in curse magic. And the ones who run experiments on living people are too many to count. Stay at the tower long enough and you'll see and suffer plenty yourself."
He suddenly swore.
"Shit. You know the worst thing I've ever seen? A mage in broad daylight, black blood pouring out of all seven orifices, drying up and dying. That was the worst."
"Drying up and dying?"
"I'm telling you. In a few minutes a fat man shriveled into a mummy. Go through something like that and you get obsessed with luck. You won't even look at an unlucky object, and you won't go near an unlucky place. You know the spot the smithy avoids most these days?"
"Where?"
"Lion Pavilion."
"What? Why?"
"Ten pass tokens were issued for Lion Pavilion, and four of them came back broken. The place has bad luck stuck to it."
"Ah. I see."
He said it, and then something snagged.
"Weren't there nine pass tokens issued to Lion Pavilion?"
"No. Ten. I'm sure of it."
Chris counted on his fingers.
"Me, Smith, Alice, the prince, Alex, Tony, Catherine, Frank, Faye. That's nine. Did you count Mage David, the supervisor?"
"Not David. I told you—mages use identity tokens."
"Right. You did. Then who did I miss?"
"You missed Juan."
"Juan?"
"He's the servant of Lion Pavilion. Of course he uses a pass token issued to Lion Pavilion."
"Juan..."
Ogi snapped his fingers.
"Hey. What are you thinking?"
"Nothing."
Chris put his hands back into the odds and ends, but he wasn't sorting. He only pawed at them. Ogi went off to other work, and when he looked again Chris was still at it.
"Sort it properly. If you don't want to, then don't."
"Ah. Yes."
Chris shot to his feet and walked out. Ogi was too dumbfounded to stop him.
"What's wrong with that kid."
Not a single piece of the clutter had been sorted. If anything, the tub had been overturned and the mess was worse.
"They said he was sharp. He's got a screw loose."
Grumbling, Ogi tidied the odds and ends himself. As he did, he noticed the pass tokens were gone.
Chris went down to Stratton Village. He stopped at Brian Magic Store for information, moved on to another place, and last of all bought a single item at Stan General Store.
When he returned to the dormitory, meat was grilling in the yard. He squeezed in between Ralph and Paul.
Paul spoke.
"Well, if it isn't the overnight success."
"Overnight success?"
"You skipped the processing room and went straight from the warehouse to manufacturing. That's an overnight rise if I ever saw one."
Chris picked up a fork and stabbed a sausage.
"The overnight success ends today."
"Why? Fired already?"
"I think I will be, soon."
"Rising while you're still a boy was never a good thing."
"It isn't?"
"Of course not. Along with bereavement in middle age and poverty in old age, it's counted among life's three great calamities."
Ralph pointed down the yard.
"Who's that running this way?"
Paul said,
"Looks like Juan."
"Why's Juan coming here? Huh. He looks furious."
As Juan came charging in, Chris stood and stepped aside.
"Chris!"
Juan roared like thunder.
"Hand it over!"
"Hand what over?"
"My treasure!"
"Ah, that. It isn't in my hands right now."
"Where is it?"
"I buried it, in case some rotten bastard stole it."
"Hand it over."
Screaming, Juan lunged, seized Chris by the throat, and wrenched. Ralph and Paul, startled, rushed in, each grabbing one of Juan's arms to pull him off.
"Juan, what's gotten into you? Calm down!"
"Use your words, your words!"
Whether the plea got through or not, Juan let go of Chris's throat and staggered back.
"There. Good thinking."
"What in the world can't be settled with words?"
The two were still blustering, trying to break up the fight, when their mouths fell open. Juan had not stepped back because he had calmed down. A dagger was buried in his chest—the dagger Chris had bought at Stan General Store.
"You... you...!"
Juan came on with the blade still in him. Malice spilled from his bloodshot eyes.
"I... curse you."
Chris spat in his face.
"Go to hell, you son of a bitch!"
"Graaah!"
Juan let out a beast's cry and clutched Chris's throat again, but there was no strength left to crush it. He heaved once, twice, and then his breath stopped.
The smithy workers, stunned by the sudden killing, could not move. Even the sound of breathing seemed to vanish.
Paul broke the silence.
"You—what the hell did you just do!"
Ralph said,
"Run."
Chris smiled.
"Run where?"
He had nowhere to go.
"If I'd had somewhere to go, I'd have bolted the moment Yan had his hands on my throat."
Back then he had only hoped to escape punishment. The odds had been decent; he had figured the knights were more likely than not to forgive him. That was finished now. He had killed Juan. There was no avoiding what came next.
Chris pried Juan loose. Even dead, the man was still gripping his throat.
"Let's eat."
He sat and chewed a sausage while the smithy workers stared at him, sickened.
A little later Charles arrived, as if he had received the report. He looked at Chris with a hard face, sighed, and hauled him to his feet. Then he dragged him to the warehouse, shoved him inside, and locked the door from without. Locked away, Chris spent the night.
The air had warmed a little, so the sun must have risen, but no one came in to work. A long time passed before the warehouse door finally opened.
Michael, vice-commander of the Royal Knights, stood in the doorway, clicked his tongue, and crooked a finger.
"Out."
Chris did as he was told. As he ambled off, Michael fell in beside him.
"Where are you going?"
"The VIP Guest Pavilion."
"Why there?"
"Commander Yan sent for me, so of course the vice-commander would come."
Then he stopped.
"Why are you stopping? Keep walking."
"I know the long way around to the pavilion. I don't know the direct route."
Michael took the lead. Chris followed.
"So I've learned a new path."
It was nothing worth celebrating, and Chris's pleasure was odd, but Michael did not ask. What he most wanted to know was why Chris had killed Juan—but asking before his superior did would be improper, so he held his tongue.
At last they reached the VIP Guest Pavilion. Chris went ahead of him into the dining room. He did not so much as greet Yan, John, or Bianca, who stood along the way.
Only after he sat did he bow his head.
"Have you had lunch?"
Judging by the hunger, he guessed it was around one in the afternoon.
Yan answered.
"Not yet."
"Then let's eat together."
"You think food will go down at a time like this?"
The knights looked at Chris as if he were some strange creature.
"I should eat something good before I'm punished. Fine food I may never taste again."
"Fair enough."
Bianca placed the order, and they sat waiting.
"The last supper."
"If I'm lucky, I can slip out of this."
"You'd have to be very lucky."
"Have you decided, by any chance?"
Yan tilted his head.
"Decided what?"
"The punishment for deceiving a noble."
"We have."
"And what was the conclusion?"