Глава 9

I imagined a bit, dunno why. That song would be lovely for singin' alongside tractorin'.

'The hibernatin' mountains carry livestock herds~'

He's starin' at me. Was I singin' out of tune?

You remembered the words wrong.

Oh! Wasn't it livestock? Was it buildin's, then? Or tillers?

You, Hillock pal over there, do you know what this song's words are meant to be?

You shouldn't be singing in here.

Sorry. Did I violate any of your rules?

At the very least, don't go singing that bunch's songs in front of us.

That bunch? What bunch? I don't get what you're sayin'.

Are you fiddling with me, Vouivre?

Huh? What's got you angry now?

...Bagpipe.

Can't shake the feelin' somethin's off-kilter.

You can save it for later.

Uh, I'm not talkin' about... Leader, I think I just heard someone in there singin' as well!

You're right.

A matching tune comes from the depths of the dimmed corridor, of a deeper tone, rougher, broken off by a few fierce coughs from time to time.

You think the man's in there?

Hey, you're not allowed in!

Oi! A—Are you the one we caught yesterday in the outskirt warehouse?

*cough* *cough*... *pant*... D'you mean Damian? Poor Damian... got dragged off ages ago...

Eh?! When?! How'd we not hear?!

Where did he get taken to?

Where... ha, haha... you're asking where...

He's already... already...

Shut up!

Or would you like to go the same way he went?!

You're threatenin' him. Why? Where in the world did that man yesterday go to?

Ah... ha... went home.

Went... home?

He got let go? So he had nothin' to do with the spectre force at all? Leader—

Let me in...

You aren't allowed to converse with the prisoner without permission.

I want to see Captain Kelly. Step aside, soldier. I know he's in here.

He is not.

You? You were the adjutant at the warehouse with the vile mouth, I remember you. What's your idea here?

The Captain left on urgent business. He asked me to pass this on to you—the interrogation ended one hour ago.

Gah...! So you mean, you went and gave us the wrong time?!

A lapse in communication. Not uncommon at all, is it?

What bloody lapse in communication... do you think we're idiots?

Leader, they gave us false info, led us up the garden path!

That's not the key point.

I'm asking you, soldier. Why did you show up to tell us this information now? Since you've bided so much time, surely none of you will mind us wasting even more.

In regards to your question...

(Muttered report)

Thank you, acknowledged.

Lieutenant Skamandros, the order I received was to inform you of the following—

Convict Damian Barry, your individual of utmost concern—was, ten minutes ago, in an attempt en route to seize weaponry from his escort and assault military personnel, shot dead.

What... what bloody nonsense are you feeding us?

We've seen that lad, he's just a normal man! He was frightened stiff when he saw us! How would he go attackin' a fully-armed regular by himself?

That is to say... you summarily executed the suspect without trial.

I have relayed to you the facts.

Leader, we've been put in the dark. Why wouldn't they let us have access to the suspect? Aren't we stood on the same side?

I'm still unclear about their reasons right now.

The one thing I can be sure of is, if we want to continue investigating, we've only got ourselves to depend on. The attitude the barracks have is loud and clear—they won't be of any help to us whatsoever.

Ugh. I'm not daft, either. I can see they've got a mean habit for trippin' people up.

So what do we do next? We scarcely got a lead, and it's gone again.

We need to think of some other way.

Oh, yeah! I just thought. That man called Damian, he said his work was sortin' the potatoes.

Every outer agriculture plate in a nomadic city has its own channel for transportin' crops inwards!

We should be able to find the farmworkers' settlement by followin' along. If we can have a chat with his friends or kin, we might find our lead again.

It's a very 'you' train of thought.

Then you just leave the information enquirin' to me!

Excellent. We begin immediately.

Leader, are you gonna come with?

I'll stay to negotiate with the barracks. To my mind, they wouldn't slop out an execution without going through interrogation. As long as they held one, there'll be records left behind.

Triangle?

Leader, we were in the outskirts—

You got ambushed?!

They came out of nowhere, and I got rumbled...

This lot's combat techniques and weaponry, they're a full match with previous intel... even Snare's Arts can barely hit them! Damn it!

Remember, your main duty is to come back alive!

Acknowledged, Leader! We should be fine! Triangle, out—

This is major intel. Our target, the force they call spectre-like, is in County Hillock this very moment.

7:11 A.M. \ Overcast

Rhodes Island County Hillock Branch Office

Morning, everyone! The weather's not bad at all today, wouldn't you say, Uncle Oliver?

Oh, it's you. I was just asking, who else could it be knocking at the crack of dawn? But it's a gloomy day today no matter where you look. What's to appreciate?

Any time it's not raining is good weather. That's what you get in County Hillock. For that matter, how do you know the day's not going to turn clear skies?

Fine, you've got me there. Shredder, you stop dilly-dallying. We haven't got anyone dropping in, it's just Janie, daily ditcher.

You're one to talk. Shredder, you come over here with us.

I brought you a yuccoffee pie today, and some shortbread. Da sent me some tea last week, so I've brought that too. Uncle Oliver, is there any evaporated milk left?

Leftovers started molding ages ago. That bloody man—never remembers to go buy any.

Isn't it your turn on the shopping? Or am I hallucinating, somehow?

Fred! Will! We need your thoughts too!

Alright, alright, it's not worth crying over this little spilled milk. Look, what's this? Fresh new evaporated, and some cheese too. Picked them up along the way from the morning market. Here, you can have them.

Hee-hee, I've wanted to try making milk tea for forever now. I think you'll like it at least, Uncle Oliver.

Ah, still no one more considerate than you, Janie. Will, you'd better learn well. At least don't start acting like that man next to you with Shredder for a codename.

This shortbread tastes delicious... ooh, right, Miss Willow, isn't your senior officer going to get on your case for running here every day to bring us breakfast?

The Victorian Army's rules are a fair deal strict, if I recall.

Ah... you don't need to worry about that. I'm a guard of honor, I'm only good for big events or recruitment drives. They don't have much use to put me to—the Sergeant Major wouldn't even think about me most of the time.

Besides, it's not like I don't do anything proper.

Every morning when I get up, the first thing I do is pull this banner off its support.

While I wait for the flour to ferment and the coffee to brew, I'll straighten out the creases bit by bit.

Once the shortbread's done, that means I have to wash the flour off me. It takes time for my hair to dry naturally, and that's the perfect time to care for the flagpole, and let it shine like brand new.

Uncle Oliver, don't rush to pick up your tea yet—it's still too hot.

For a complete morning, everything needs to glow gorgeous, no exceptions. Only then can I bring joy to you all—that's my life's creed.

What's the pie like today, Shredder? Want any more?

Perfect... Just like every day before.