[792] Beta Fish (2)
* * *
When Shirone and Jestin returned to the guild, their subordinates were busy repairing the buildings they'd smashed.
Despite all the commotion, no one from the neighboring guilds had dared to show up, aside from a few acquaintances.
The guild had a reputation for trouble, but Shirone was sure the city guard had intervened.
"All right. Everybody, stop."
When Jestin spoke, the woman at the counter who had been sniffling halted her cleaning.
"Damn it!"
Aekku, hammering a board poorly, lost his temper and tossed the hammer aside.
'You're the one who broke all this.'
Even though she'd said she didn't want to fight—
"So, are we done talking? It better be something that won't land us a damages suit."
Jestin said to the black-haired man.
"Round up the guild members—the layabouts lazing about—and bring them to Gader's Inn. We'll talk there."
"Yes, ma'am."
The black-haired man hurried off, and Jestin glanced back at Shirone.
"We live and die together. These are the people I've been with since the early days of exile. Whatever you told me, you'll have to tell them the same."
"Of course."
As Shirone and Jestin left the building, two men with longswords scratched their heads and watched.
"What's so serious that she's like that?"
Shirone had rented the largest room at Gader's Inn and told the eight mercenaries everything.
"So… this Habitz wants our captain to assassinate the Gustav Empire's emperor?"
"That's right."
Aekku asked, "Are you out of your mind?"
"I don't think it's a bad offer," Shirone said, looking at Jestin.
"You can't hide forever. If you want to break this chain of fate, now's your chance."
Jestin still didn't answer.
"I'm not saying you have to do everything. All the prep will be handled by our team—the best of the elite."
"Then what do you want from me?" she asked, genuinely wanting to know.
"Hate. We need your hatred."
"Hate…."
Jestin remembered every moment of the long life she'd spent fleeing Habitz.
'Of course I hate him.'
She'd been whipped, beaten, sometimes left to die. It had been a life worse than a beast's, lonelier than a criminal's until she met the crew.
'I want to kill him!'
She clenched both fists, her teeth grinding.
'Habitz—'
But the moment she tried to picture the demon's face she'd never even seen, a cold dread washed through her as if her insides were melting.
"Grrrr!"
She had of course lost him, but Habitz had annihilated everything else.
Parents, brothers, sisters, even the relatives of those relatives—their siblings and kin….
'That wasn't murder. It was bombardment.'
There had been times she'd wanted to know why such a disaster had befallen them. But when she learned she might be the only survivor who escaped Habitz's grasp—
'Revenge? Who am I to talk about that?'
She tried to steady her trembling wrist, but the more she tried, the worse the shaking became.
'I'm terrified.'
She feared Habitz to the point of madness.
"Captain…"
Aekku watched with pity while Jestin slapped the back of her own hand repeatedly.
"Damn it! Damn it!"
When she finally regained her composure, she fixed a cold stare on Shirone.
"See? This is my reality. I can't even steady a shot in this state, much less kill someone."
"You don't need a gun."
Jestin's brow twitched.
"Didn't I say I'd be the one to kill Habitz?"
"Yes. But you won't use a blade."
"What the hell? I'm a sniper. Close-quarters combat isn't my specialty, and a blade—"
"No, a shot," Shirone interrupted.
"Habitz is at least 120 kilometers away from us. You won't be in any danger."
"No rifle can shoot that far."
"That's why I said we need your hate. If it's you, you can take the shot."
Shirone's words had been puzzling from the start.
'No, he must be right.'
Still, she couldn't fully grasp it—he came from a world they hadn't experienced.
Aekku spoke up. "Do it, Captain. This is an opportunity. It'd be a waste for your talent to rot here."
Having organized the mercenary band under Jestin's name, expanding their influence alone would be difficult.
"Finish this clean and we go out into the real world. Besides…"
Aekku blushed. "You'll have to get married someday, Captain."
At that sudden comment everyone turned to him. The woman at the counter asked in disbelief, "Don't tell me you want to marry the captain…?"
"What nonsense! I may have only one eye, but I can tell a woman when I see one!"
Jestin turned her head. "Really? I have a suggestion if it's you."
Aekku's one eye widened. "R-really?"
"Of course not. Shut up."
Aekku fell silent, and Jestin looked back at Shirone.
"All right, suppose I kill Habitz. What then? Who will protect us after we assassinate the empire's emperor?"
"Ah…."
That was a problem.
"That would be Kashan—"
The table rattled with a slam.
"Bullshit. You risk your life and end up fugitives again? I'm tired of living under someone else's thumb."
Shirone understood her.
"Then what do you want?"
"Hmm. I can't answer until I ask one thing. What exactly is your position? Don't try to soften it. There wasn't a single guard around during all this. We know it was your doing."
"All right. I'm a mage affiliated with the Ivory Tower."
"The Ivory Tower?"
"As far as I know… it's a place that researches magic," the black-haired man said.
"Heh. What a coincidence. That's what they taught me in kindergarten too."
When Jestin sneered, the black-haired man shrugged. "They say it's above kings."
"Good."
Sensing Shirone's status, Jestin shifted into negotiation mode.
"Listen. Jestin's mercenary band is small but elite. It's funny saying this after you helped us, but—"
"No. They're all excellent fighters," Shirone cut in.
"Good. Then this will be quick. Get us into Arakne's top mercenary guild, Guardian King. And not just membership—give me at least a squad leader post."
"That's a bit—"
"This isn't a parachute drop. It's rightful compensation for the lives we've had to live."
Yahweh may be omniscient and omnipotent, but He won't force one to sacrifice another for someone else's gain.
"I used to be in guild life. They value contributions as much as skill. This'll stir up trouble in the guild."
They weren't the only ones bound by comradeship.
"What? You talk big but won't even give me that?" Jestin snapped. "Let me be clear: I won't make a deal with anyone less than Guardian King. This is a fight for my life."
"Hmm."
Silvering had probably dissolved in Radum, and the only guild Shirone could personally ask was the Parrot Mercenary Corps.
"Sister Marsha…."
"What?"
When Shirone looked up, Jestin's team stared wide-eyed.
"What did you just say? Marsha? Clay Marsha?"
"Yes. Do you know the Parrot Corps?"
Jestin was surprised. "Of course I do. Parrot's one of the world's top ten mercenary guilds. The Fallen Virgin. Who in this business doesn't know Marsha?"
'World's top ten guilds?'
It was an achievement Shirone had pulled off in the four years since leaving Galliant.
'Well, she's clever.'
She'd clearly put the massive support Woelin gave for helping Miro to good use.
'Yeah, Parrot could do it.'
The Fallen Virgin, Clay Marsha. If she was the godmother of the abandoned jackals, she could open a path for Jestin's band.
"All right. I'll introduce you to the Parrot Mercenary Corps. I'll even offer you the squad leader post. Deal?"
"Not so fast. Why would I make a deal like that without confirmation? We need Marsha's approval first."
Jestin twirled a finger. "I heard she was stationed in the Iron Kingdom not long ago, but she's elusive. It'd be best to find her quickly—my mind might change."
Confident she held the upper hand, she curled a lip and watched Shirone's reaction.
"You don't have to go find her yourself," Shirone said calmly. "Is there a Teraforce Order nearby, by any chance?"
* * *
As befits a famous exile nation, Arakne was home to many religions.
The Teraforce Order was small but had a temple on the outskirts of Bengol and was recruiting followers.
"Excuse me."
Shirone stopped a random priest and greeted him.
"Welcome. May the grace of Teraforce be with you. How may I help?"
"Do you truly believe in Teraforce?" Shirone asked.
Channeling is difficult without a trance.
"Of course. The great Teraforce leads all humankind to goodness. Those dismissed as evil—"
"Then please change that god of yours."
"What? I—what did you say…?"
The priest scowled at the blasphemy, and Shirone sighed. "Chief Justice, are you listening?"
At that instant the priest shuddered, his eyes rolled back, and he stared up at the sky.
"Hexa, we were lucky in this heresy case. If I hadn't filibustered in the council—"
He seemed to have a lot to say.
"Ah, that's for another time. There's someone named Clay Marsha I need to send a message to. It's urgent."
"…What is it?"
Disappointment flickered in the voice of the Chief Justice channeling through the priest, but Shirone ignored it and delivered the message.
Two hours later.
A tavern in the Iron Kingdom.
The Parrot Mercenary Corps' managers, who'd rented the whole building for three days, were already drunk in the middle of the day.
Their godmother Marsha was filing her nails in the corner when the door rattled open.
"Captain. Captain Marsha."
The deputy of the tenth squad burst in, dragging a white-haired boy by the collar who was half in tears.
One of the managers asked, "What is it? If you came for booze, get out."
"No, that's not it. He nodded off after too much day-drinking and then started babbling."
The white-haired boy spoke up. "It wasn't nonsense. I saw it. My god—my god gave me a revelation."
"Come here, our cute little one."
Marsha beckoned the boy over and narrowed her eyes to check his mental state.
"You didn't do drugs, did you? What dream did you have?"
"My great god told me to tell the captain this: we must go to Arakne right now."
Marsha, cigarette in her mouth, grinned. "What? My god recognizes my beauty? Is he telling me to join a pageant?"
"If you're over thirty, they won't even accept your paperwork," Freeman muttered.
Marsha pursed her lips, then hugged the boy's neck. "All right, little one. Why did your great god tell me to go to Arakne?"
"Th-this is exactly what he said."
The boy left nothing out. "There—Hexa, no, Yahweh, no—Shirone is waiting."
"…Hmm."
Marsha dismissed the boy, fell into thought, and exhaled a long stream of cigarette smoke.
"What kind of god stammers like that?"