Глава 11

The path to the bookstore is a familiar one. She has tread it countless times in the past two years.

But today, the path seems much longer than she remembers. She cannot see the end of it. She remembers the day that the Sarkaz came.

Can she truly change?

I must believe. I must...

Fear seizes Golding by the throat.

She feels as though she is about to throw up. She turns and flees.

Lance! Patty!

The kids...! Nan—

Nngh—!

You need not have bothered yourself with a task as simple as this, sir.

Then you should have arrested Ms. Golding, Lettou.

It's what Manfred would have done. Old Red-Eye wouldn't have left a soul in the school alive.

We know you're not Sarkaz. You want to save one final shred of dignity for yourself, for the Defense Forces, for the people of the city.

But we believe this is safer.

Why you...

Lance, Patty... I hope the children are safe.

I'm scared, Lt. Colonel. Scared that people like you and the Sarkaz may hurt the children. Scared that the children could grow up to be like you.

You sound just like our unconscious guest here.

Yes... we're feeling.

She cares about those young Victorians more than she cares about herself. We can feel it, but we find it difficult to understand, especially since it does not arise from ties of blood.

...Sir?

We find you interesting. Through you, we understand ourselves... understand the Sarkaz better.

You want answers? About what?

You did not seem the kind of person to be curious about the Sarkaz, Lettou.

My apologies, sir.

The mission always comes first.

Take Miss Molly back, Lt. Colonel. Watch her closely. We will stay by Ms. Golding's side, and gather intelligence for the coming war.

Yes, sir.

What's the matter, sir?

Someone has discovered us.

Should I call the men?

No need. They can't stop him.

He has learned much from Theresa. We will have an... interesting conversation.

...Molly.

Hm?

Did anything happen while I was away?

No. Lance and Patty were scared. Ralph and the older kids took the little ones to get some rest.

Good. I've been thinking... the children will enjoy the play, won't they?

Our hard work will mean something?

What are you talking about?

No... nothing.

Don't mind the Commander of the Defense Forces, Ms. Golding.

I... I'm not feeling well. I need some rest.

Sorry, Molly. Could you clean up?

Sure.

There should be an end to the play. The Steam Knights arrived at the palace.

The children will perform the final scene in a few days, won't they?

...Absolutely.

There sure are lots of possibilities, so long as the conclusion of the story hasn't yet been told.

But even a play that's been performed can be changed. People always look for the latest.

You've been watching for a long time, haven't you?

The stage is right here. Why don't we start from the beginning, from act one?

Everyone dreams about how things would have been, if none of this had happened.

'What ifs' mean nothing.

But if there is even a remote possibility...

Why don't you join us on stage, sir?

Good morning, sir! There is a look of concern on your face. Is something worrying you?

The horn of victory has blown atop the walls for three days and nights, but why do I feel uneasy?

Has our great general not returned triumphant? Praise his bravery and fearlessness!

Bravery? Fearlessness? Perhaps.

A call to arms united our spirit, but the price was ruin and hate.

You should have served a king, but you gave your loyalty to a thief.

The mysterious spectator takes a step forward, his gaze moving from his counterpart to the distance.

He is not building up tension, but recalling memories of another battlefield, memories that have lain dormant for too long.

It is not a king that I serve, but honesty and courage.

Destruction awaits, if you stay on this path.

The destruction of the individual is nothing, compared to having to watch a tyrant bring this country to ruin.

How do you know her end, sir?

I can predict her end, as I know her beginning.

How could you reminiscence about the past, young as you are?

Who can keep the sun from setting? Such desires are the greatest greed.

I have seen countless acts of madness performed in the name of preserving this glory. They turn to banditry, or fight amongst themselves, ultimately accelerating the decay of this country.

'Molly' turns around onstage, takes a few steps, then turns back, hiding her face in the shadows.

But her counterpart speaks first. His expression is calm, like water undisturbed. He shifts his hands, then crosses them.

They will not admit that those who fall try to cling to the sunlight, but grasp only lightning.

Must they accept their fall?

They can choose to not look back at the peak.

If they would turn their gaze around, they would realize that it is no abyss lying before them, but fertile earth in which infinite possibilities lie.

You say the abyss can be conquered? You do not know the truth of the abyss, nor do you understand that time is short.

The abyss lies before us. We can fill it with flesh, and burn the remnants with blood, leaving behind wide open fields for those who come after.

Only when the ashes of old are blown away can a new crop grow on the field, to feed the next generation.

You saw it, Morgan?

The guards at the warehouse were so nervous that they didn't even see me coming.

Alright, alright, you win today. Take your jerky.

Ha, knew you'd be cross. Next time you can come with, and loser has to keep guard.

...They're staring at us.

Who?

What are you stari—

What's this about...? Get outta the way, already. I need a drink from the kitchen. Thirsty after all that work.

You shouldn't have done that.

You mean lure away the Sarkaz patrol, giving your people a chance to escape the warehouse?

Yes.

Funny way to say 'thank you'? Or did I hear you wrong?

Our comrades in Sudean are grateful, and so are we. The mission went well. But why did you have to burn the warehouse?

It belonged to a Victorian merchant, not the Sarkaz! The Sarkaz were just occupying it.

Ha. Those fat cats are as cowardly as they are greedy. They want to help the Sarkaz, I'm happy to make them suffer for it.

You do understand that you're just driving them into the arms of the Sarkaz?

Even better. More than just warehouses to burn for those traitors.

That's gangster talk, not the way of the Self-Salvation Corps.

Do you still insist on working with these people, Lady Isabelle?