Where Is Nilly (2)
Benny’s voice carried the calm precision of someone reciting a well-worn lecture. “The Celestial Realm’s territories are divided into four major regions—east, west, south, and north—plus the central Conclave. The northern customs stand apart from the rest. In the frozen lands ruled by the Winter King, killing to seize and dying to protect are simply how things are done. The king’s own children are no exception. In fact, their blood feuds are even more savage. Some years dozens of royals die at one another’s hands.”
“What kind of elves are those?” Nathan grunted. “They sound more like polar trolls.”
The one who had sent the Changeling to Graveyard House to abduct Nilly was none other than her own blood relative. Of course, ordinary siblings would never have handed their little sister to such a creature. The perpetrator’s true aim had been to erase Nilly without a trace, using the demon’s memory-altering power so that no one would even remember she had existed. One less lifelong rival for the throne.
In the age before the Federation, when only kingdoms existed, such things had occasionally happened even among the nobility on the ground. But the culprit had failed. Someone here still remembered Nilly.
“You said elves reach adulthood at one hundred, correct? Nilly is ninety-seven, so she’s still a minor?”
“Yes. In the Heavens, Baeleim are not regarded as full citizens. Only after surviving to one hundred and crossing the threshold into adulthood are they considered truly ‘born.’ The same rule applies to royalty. They must live a full century, become Eleim, and prove their worth before they earn any supporters.”
“So they tried to remove her before she could cross that threshold. You’ve survived remarkably well in a family like that. Especially since they even transferred custody of her to a Changeling so one of them could finish the job personally…”
A Changeling only refrained from eating its victim when it had received suitable compensation. Nathan decided not to speculate on what price the perpetrator had paid.
There was no need to hurry. He was already on his way to find Nilly. The odds were high he would meet the culprits, and once he did, he could ask them directly. He hoped they would prove more cooperative than the Changeling had been.
“Long ago on the ground, nobles used to offer living sacrifices to Changelings to eliminate political enemies. A hundred rebukes about shamelessness before the heavens would not have been enough. Yet the elves up here do the same thing.”
“They’re probably still trading all manner of outlandish schemes. The Winter King has hundreds of children, after all, and only one seat for Protector Lord, the king’s closest aide.”
“They commit fratricide just to claim the second-highest office? In the end only one of those hundreds of siblings becomes the victor. The rest either die or live wondering when their turn will come. Has there never been a single instance where the children joined forces to drag the king down? That would seem to improve their survival odds.”
Benny’s expression grew somber. “The amount of mana an Eleim can wield increases across their entire lifetime. The longer they live, the stronger they become. The Winter King has lived more than fifteen hundred years. He is effectively a god. Every child who has ever challenged the throne has died. Unlike the kings on the ground, there is no waiting for abdication. Eleim live forever.”
Her gaze drifted toward a scuffle at the edge of the stream. A pack of mangy wild dogs had set upon a smaller one, tearing into it. Their coats were nearly the same color, as though they had come from the same litter. When the doomed pup began to whimper, Benny quickly looked away.
“…In the end they fight the easiest prey of all—their own brothers and sisters. And it isn’t only the north. It’s the same everywhere in the Heavens.”
EXAMPLE
The hospital ship carrying Nathan and Benny finally reached the entrance to their destination. Days of artificial snow and rain had raised the water level, making a boat necessary to reach the gang-infested Sewer Plaza. This was the last assistance Benny could offer. If she wished to keep the hospital running, she could provide nothing more. In any case, Nathan had refused further help. He did not want to drag trouble down onto them after they had already shown him kindness.
Benny felt the irony. The very vessel she had built to rescue those stranded by flooding was now being used as a beachhead for war.
The force dispatched by Graveyard House consisted of a single man. A human knight who had chosen to carve a path through the underground distribution network with nothing but his own body.
As Nathan set his foot on the gunwale, Benny caught the edge of his collar.
“Must you really go, Nathan?”
“I could have lived without knowing. Now that I know, I have no choice. I was taught that even a single day of fighting side by side makes men comrades-in-arms.”
His tone was indifferent. It did not sound like a man marching to his death. There were countless reasons to stop him if she let herself think about them. Biting her lip, Benny decided to begin with the subjects she could actually speak of.
“The children of monsters are monsters themselves. This is different from when you defeated the twins. The Winter King’s descendants are on an entirely different level from ordinary Eleim, and the power they can mobilize is overwhelming. You cannot win. Even if you survive and flee, you will be hunted for the rest of your life.”
“First, every elf I thought would beat me has been wrong so far. Second, I’m already being hunted. What difference does it make?”
“You’re being pursued by the wardens. Your name is broadcast in the upper plazas every day. Report any escaped creature immediately. If you’re unlucky you could be executed in the street. They do not see you as a person with rights. Just stay at the hospital. It’s safe there. At least for now.”
Nathan turned to face her.
“It isn’t only the wardens. Santra, the owner of the Great Arena, is after me as well. That veiled woman plans to keep me as her exclusive gladiator for the rest of my life. So if I go now, I won’t be coming back.”
Silence fell. Benny blinked several times.
“Why?”
“Because you work for her. Even if you don’t, you at least know her.”
Nathan opened his metal palm. Though the dwarf Vandberg had performed the final assembly, Santra had made it clear that someone else had crafted the arm itself.
“You’re the prosthetics technician who made this hand for me on the spot, aren’t you? At first I didn’t suspect a thing. The distance between Graveyard Valley and the arena made it seem impossible. But Santra can cross space at will. The moment she learned my hand had been severed, she brought you to me. The children who vanished from the arena must have reached the hospital the same way.”
Benny’s arms tightened behind her back. Her left hand dug into her right wrist. This was the conversation she had least wanted to have.
“That’s correct. I am the best in the field. That’s why Santra commissions me so often. After your first match she summoned me. Replicating the components of your gauntlet was especially difficult. The Conclave’s agents were not to notice. How long have you known?”
“I suspected when I saw the children. I became certain when I saw your workshop. The style was too similar, like works by the same artist. Looking back, I had heard the name several times but never connected it.”
“Then why didn’t you ask? You had countless chances to demand whether I was Santra’s minion.”
And why had she herself never told him the truth? Benny asked the question of herself as well. She had missed the right moment. Or perhaps she had wanted to give him peace while she could. That was how she had justified it to herself.
Thanks to the words Nathan had muttered while half-delirious, she knew what kind of ordeals he had endured. If she had told him that even Graveyard House lay within the veiled woman’s reach, he would never have rested easily. Or perhaps, even without that reason, she would have stayed silent. So he would not run away. So he would remain somewhere she could still see him.
In the end she had driven one more arrow into a back already riddled with them. Yet Nathan’s face showed no resentment.
“Did you save me without informing the owner of the Great Arena?”
“At first, yes. But she contacted me before you even woke, somehow knowing I had found you. So I asked a favor. I told her your condition was dire and requested a few days for you to recover in body and mind. She granted exactly one month. At least for that long, you could have stayed peacefully at Graveyard House.”
“How generous of Santra. But we can’t fully trust that promise, can we?”
Benny lowered her eyes. How many times could she be caught off guard?
“There is nothing in the Heavens that can be completely trusted.”
The statement applied to herself as well. Only the slap of floodwater against the hull filled the silence.
“…Are you disappointed that I’m on the side of your enemy?”
“No. On the contrary, I should thank you. It’s thanks to your connection with a major player that I’m still alive.”
Nathan waved his prosthetic. The gesture served as both gratitude and farewell.
“You could have tied me up while I slept and delivered me to Santra, but you didn’t. Among all the elves I’ve met so far, you’re the best.”
He jumped down to the ground, leaving her behind.
“Thank you for everything. I’ll continue to make good use of the hand. I have nothing to repay you with right now, but if a way appears, I will definitely repay this debt. Take care of yourself.”
Benny stared at his receding back. She could not call him back. The shadow of the enormous sewer entrance slowly swallowed him.
Looking back, her fascination with his bloodied fighting form had been the root of the trouble. It was obvious he would leave again to shed more blood. That was precisely why she could not look away.
This would not be their final meeting. She felt certain of it.
Benny whispered under her breath.
The name Sewer Plaza was plain because the place was exactly what it sounded like: the intersection of colossal sewer pipes. Beyond walls packed with rebar and concrete came the constant rumbling of water. The space had clearly been claimed by blocking off part of the drainage system. An underground landfill carved out by those with nowhere else to go. The dry desolation of an abandoned mine mixed with the damp rot of a swamp. Winds wetter than the rainy streets above. And an example.
Nathan glanced at the wall beside him. The corpse of an elf boy sat leaning against the waterway. Had he been human, one might have guessed him fourteen years old. Above his head, letters scrawled in dripping paint spelled a warning. Red pigment ran down the outline of the leaning body, tracing its silhouette.
EXAMPLE.
The boy, skull crushed, still clutched a steel bucket as though it were his only treasure. Perhaps he had tried to steal something by hiding it inside. His sunken cheeks suggested he had only been trying to buy himself one more day.
Nathan chose not to dwell on the corpse’s story. His interest was not in the crime.
He pulled the steel bucket from the dead boy’s arms. The elf surrendered it without resistance, as if he no longer had any attachment to it. Lighter than a proper helmet but solid enough. If a sword came down and he dodged in time, it would keep him from being split open. There were no straps, so the fit would be poor, but a headbutt with its edge would carry real force.
Nails protruded from the wall in a neat row beside the boy—used to pin the corpse in a sitting position. Nathan rinsed the bucket in the flowing water, then drove one of the nails through it to punch holes for breathing and vision. He pressed the makeshift helm onto his head and walked deeper into the darkness.
“I’m borrowing this. Rest easy.”
The Sewer Plaza was the vital junction leading to every district of the underground residential area. Therefore its center was always guarded by some gang or another. Their role was that of watchdogs. If security forces or rival gangs invaded, they were expected to bark loudly and latch onto trouser legs. Sometimes they received praise for early warning. More often they were severed like a lizard’s tail.
A simple, easy job that no one wanted. So every organization sent its lowest members to the entrance.
But all the brave souls willing to pick fights with the gangs were already dead. Who would dare, except Benny of Graveyard House? Six years had passed since that pink-haired madwoman chased down someone who had assaulted her medical staff, then returned with an alligator, a skeletal rider, and a pitch-black monster to turn the place upside down.
“That fearless bitch. We’ll have to kill her one of these days.”
“I went and shook her up a little just the other day. Even came face to face with that famous monster of hers. But look—I came back alive and well. You gentlemen should be a little bolder yourselves.”
The thugs yawned and shared the warmth of their bonfire. They had passed roughly two thousand incident-free days. Without Benny the record would have been longer still. Today would probably be safe too.
Which was why they nearly jumped out of their skins when a steel-bucket head sat down beside them.
“Damn, it’s cold down here. Mind if I share the fire?”
The thug with the impressive chrome-plated shoulders swallowed hard. The thing on the newcomer’s head… was the bucket he himself had nailed to the wall a few days earlier, still wrapped around the skull of a Baeleim thief.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Don’t remember me? I remember you perfectly. Weren’t you the friend who got bitten by a dog?”
Nathan turned toward him. The faceplate riddled with air holes looked ghastly.
“What kind of guy am I? Idiot. Bragging about your heroic tales and then pissing yourself.”
He returned the thug’s own words from their first meeting, slightly altered. The elf only frowned, not understanding. A silence heavy with killing intent settled over the fire. The thug’s hand crept slowly behind his back—toward a dagger, no doubt.
Too slow. Both recognizing the threat and reacting to it. So slow it was almost yawn-inducing.
So Nathan struck first.
The edge of the tin bucket crushed the man’s philtrum and shattered the cartilage. The thug fell backward, spraying saliva and teeth in every direction.
Nathan wondered whether the newly minted idiot would have the shamelessness to visit Graveyard House again. And if he did, whether even Benny could reconstruct that ruined face.
“I’m busy. I’m looking for someone. So from now on, anyone whose confession isn’t satisfying will end up like this.”
Inside the bucket now studded with the thug’s front teeth, Nathan’s mouth twisted into a grin. His condition was excellent. And this refreshing feeling… was the sensation of finally escaping that disgusting dogfighting ring and returning to his own kind of fight.
“Game start.”