act22side

Seeing as you have Caster's people surveilling you, they must have long gained possession of that information.

We have little nibbles of Dublinn forces cropping up outside the cities, and the rumors of a major Dublinn force passing through... All put on show for them.

Sprinkle in a few mysterious trade orders, and now even the gossiping merchants know the Iron Duke has some design or other for this city.

Everyone is quietly making the rounds, frantically guessing what the Duke is borrowing Trent as a stage for.

Very much as The Leader expected.

Yes, if they'd realized our true aim too soon, and every Duke learned of The Leader's resolution in advance, I fear Oak Grove's outskirts would be in the same merry state Londinium is.

Say, are they more scared of the Sarkaz, or of the Tarans?

Trying to pit Tarans against Sarkaz? You have no right to make such jokes, Feline of Victoria.

...I hear 'The Spy' is dead.

Mmm, yes, and we've had access to far less intel from inside Londinium ever since. It really is a shame.

It's not just Sarkaz in there. You have some... fairly interesting powers in hibernation.

Your impulsiveness will ruin your plans. I've said as much before.

Impulsiveness? My, scant few people would ever think THAT of me.

You should perish thoughts of offering Mandragora survival.

She was used by 'The Elocutionist', to try and fracture Dublinn. She was meant to die in County Hillock along with those six traitors.

Mandragora was the one 'The Spy' most trusted. Executing her before confirming if 'The Spy' had turned his coat, well, that wouldn't have been the wise move.

Excuses.

Even if it wasn't worth myself or you in person, the task of supporting 'The Spy' should have gone to someone more dependable.

Oh? Come to speak of us, you never sat well with me. Don't you find it such good news that I've never had the chance to kill you?

Meaningless, glib blather.

You can't be acting rashly before the Duke and The Leader make their final decision.

If you can discern the importance of Londinium intel, then of course I can. But whether we ultimately march on Londinium or not, that's still an unknown variable.

Hinging upon our progress collaborating with the Duke?

Of course. Why else would I be so busy on my feet right now?

...Hmph. I still remember the enclave campaign four years ago. How bitterly we awaited the result of our partnership with the nobles.

And meanwhile, all our errant representatives were circling thousands of kilometers out, patiently pulling through several weeks just to tell the Duke one single thing.

Harmonie, you'd best stand on The Leader's side.

Or else?

Mandragora is dead. I can stop investigating your whim to assist her.

But she—she's still alive.

Oh, you mean that dear, pitiful Loughshinny.

We cannot have a repeat of 'The Elocutionist's' conspiracy in County Hillock. Each day she lives is a threat to Dublinn and The Leader.

The Leader has assigned control of her whereabouts to you. Don't let personal considerations affect you any further, Harmonie. You have little leeway left to fail.

Oh, you do fantasize far too much about the emotional life of a professional spy.

Fine, fine, you can stop boring into me with your eyes, 'Brigadier', unless you want to help by applying my makeup. I do have a dinner party to attend.

Not bad, Fionn. Just like back then. I always think you're a bit useless, but then every time, you get something done.

*sigh* What use is borrowing this bit of rations going to do?

Those two are Victorians, right? They say, they'll go to the city to replace anything we don't need, and sort you lot out some batons for self-defense.

Shouldn't you be happy about getting a decent weapon?

Fine, you listen to your little radio, check if they're broadcasting about merchants being looted. Maybe those cowards are scared Dublinn will get back at them. Might not even report it at all...

...Hey, Fionn?

What are you peering at back there?

...That Infected handful. They've been following us at a far distance since we left the village.

Still? Surprised they've kept up with us going so fast, and them with their sick legs and children to carry.

Right, it must be murder on them coming with us.

I... I'm worried for Moran.

Her eyes went bad in that famine a few years back. She can't see the way in the dark. Now with the lights-out happening, there's not even a single lamp left on.

Oh, no, that's sorry to hear. So, can I ask what they're doing following us? Do we look like some kind of rescue team?

I don't know. Er, probably it's the clothes you're wearing?

Look, aside from me, everyone regards you like you're a real member of Dublinn.

And everyone knows Dublinn's good to the Tarans. It's simple as that.

...I'll—go and see them.

Oh, you made me jump... Your voice sounds a little quivery, say. You alright?

...It wouldn't be bad—to have more people standing on guard duty... It'll be easier to avoid the patrol.

I'll... bring them with me.

History records that out of a sense the war between the Draco and Aslan had become far too protracted and bitter, the final King Gaeil signed a peace treaty.

Legends say he opted to melt down his soldiers' weapons as a sign of his determination, but his subjects could hardly accept such a defeat. Thus they conspired to revolt, and assassinated the monarch.

But just as you've referenced in many a speech, a single assassination is not enough to extinguish the Red Dragon's whole bloodline.

No matter how the Victorians write the history books, they cannot change what facts we've seen with our own eyes.

The Aslan promised to share Victoria's kingship with the Draco, yet didn't hand over the crown for nearly a century.

With the lions' ambitions so conspicuous to this point, I wonder. Six blade marks stabbed King Gaeil through. How many of them were by Aslan hands?

Not to mention the Draco king fleeing the royal capital after, fate unknown. And the Kingdom of Tara without its ruler was subjugated under Victorian sovereign authority, as if a matter of course.

I presume it wasn't his own subjects who prevented the Draco's return to the city.

This is why I very much enjoy your works based on the Tarans' own ballads. You've led the people to see more of history's truth.

Thank you for your appreciation.

To write this story, I saw plays performed in the country, and paid a visit to some wandering minstrels who'd inherited the Taran tradition.

—But what struck me most wasn't the endangerment of Taran culture. It was how so many lives were just slipping away.

Perhaps you believe the Tarans' ideal nation, and a border with Victoria, are necessary for the Taran people to be saved.

But I think, if we ourselves can live better, if we can plant seeds of ideas for the many Tarans who can't read...

Won't we have won then and there, against the Victorians who want us trapped in ignorance and poverty all our lives?

You want to bring that lot with you? Don't even think about it.

If you'll wait until they rest, if you'll share your own food with them, that I can accept.

But we've avoided the patrol out of pure luck the last two days. What if we don't the next time? Those kids must be seven or eight. Can't fight back with weapons, can't run fast enough. What do you do about that?

I can fight... I'll protect them.

You want to cross through the uninhabited region, to completely escape Trent's jurisdiction. I can aid you, the whole way.

I contacted the organization I belong to, with the help of Bagpipe and Ch'en... my colleagues. I've confirmed the closest safehouse—is just along this way.

If all we need is some tents, and a small amount of emergency supplies for the countryside, they can transport it over without a problem.

And I know, the territory over there... belongs to a well-hearted Duke. Once we're there, the army won't be after you anymore, at the very least.

Really? There's an honest-to-God noble who'd smile on people like us?

He has... reason to shelter the Tarans.

And how do you know?

...Before long, perhaps we'll all know.

We'll have ways to survive, bringing those people along.

But. Don't forget. They're Infected.

We've constantly been scarpering with our lives. What are we doing inviting death to our sides?

And we don't know when the sick'll have their flare-ups. Or when they'll just kick the bucket outright...

What's the point in you saving these sorts of people?

I don't know.

I only know, that when someone saved me... I wanted to ask her the same. Why?

Even though I was... so close to death.

What are you getting at?

I'm an Infected too.

Wha? Oh. Er...

*cough*. Alright. Doesn't mean much to be Infected. Wouldn't have lived much longer than Infected ourselves without your help anyway. Haha.

Still...

Oripathy won't spread just because we're in the same place.

It's okay. You can keep a bit of distance, if you're scared. I don't mind.

But take those Infected with you on your escape... Trust me.

...Fine. I trust you! Selmon. You heard what she said...

—I'm not fleeing.