Глава 14

Just that?

It's probably because he's scared the ship's going to take so long to repair that the Nachzehrers will rush onto the deck and devour them all.

When's the last time we saw Londinium's walls?

Are they cracked wide open? Covered with Originium crystals? Or soaked in fresh blood, all covered with dead branches, or even inlaid with the bones of our people?

When we got out of Norport, many of us might have thought that was the worst we'd experience.

But afterwards we saw a deck flooded with blood, and went through a perilous time all thanks to the Originium.

We watched as the war turned our city into an unrecognizable ruin.

Is there anyone willing to puff out their chest and say they can imagine how the city looks like inside?

The dukes' spies should have more information than we do.

From their conduct, Caster and the others are probably preparing to abandon Londinium.

A nomadic city wrecked by Sarkaz may be worth less than a fleet formed at a high price.

Also... the Shard has truly yet to fall. No one knows if the Sarkaz have any remaining tricks to try, or if another city will turn into a battlefield.

More nobles might decide to move their troops back home.

Blast it! I knew they'd pull something like that!

Win a tough fight, and then not give a crap about what's gonna happen to Londinium!

Yes. As you say, that's what they'd definitely do. So it's just another ordinary day for Victoria.

As for us—we've decided long ago what we should do, haven't we?

Siege walks into the crowd.

For a moment, she cannot discern if someone belongs to the Exemplars or was saved by them.

Everyone is exhausted, but they still hold their heads up high.

Siege knows she doesn't have to say much.

Because opened eyes will not close so easily anymore.

Everyone watches Siege.

Siege looks toward Londinium, their city, their people.

She lifts the hammer in her hand.

Exemplars—

Advance!

Enough... enough! Please, just withdraw the order!

The Shard has already stopped, so how can we go on fighting?

What else can we do now but to be smashed into paste by a high-speed battleship?

Shut up! Shut that *Sarkaz expletive* mouth of yours!

We are at war, and this is the battlefield! Hide in here all you want, and some Feline will eventually lop your head off anyway!

Pick up your blade! If we must die, we die with dignity!

There's no other way we can go!

What's going on...? Who else could use the Royal Court's frequency? Whose signal is this?

Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me?

Wiš'adel's the name—the one and only name granted by Her Highness The King of Sarkaz Theresa herself.

Every Sarkaz still under the Military Commission's command, listen up.

I don't care if you came here after hearing whatever nonsense from Theresis or some Royal Court geezer.

I'm delighted to announce: the war has ended, and you guys lost.

But Her Highness says she wants to have every Sarkaz return home.

So, if you want to live, it's time to ignore orders from the Military Commission and do as this transmission says.

Oh, I should've mentioned it earlier.

This is Babel.

Quick, follow me!

This path is safe, we haven't spotted any Sarkaz for the time being!

A transmission?

Our own Exemplar frequency... Miss Closure!

I'm listening! Turn the volume up... some more...

Everyone should be able to hear it now.

Wow... did I hear that right?

That Siege lady did it! She brought back our people with her, and together pave a way...

...A way home.

We've sent a squad closest to their location over. Fang's squad is also on their way. She's the fastest out of them and can help us ensure the road stays clear.

Right.

Next, I just have to find a relatively safe spot for the rendezvous...

No need for that.

Miss Closure, we're quite close to the city walls.

Every maintenance access point... is inside my head.

Every member of the Self-Salvation Corps who pulled out from Londinium won't forget them.

There are some very old passages the Sarkaz definitely have no clue about.

We can go home.

That frequency you care about is active.

Judging from their speed, they're practically rushing toward the city.

The passages the Sarkaz don't know about only number a few.

They'll definitely pick the path closest to Highbury.

K13?

Something happened in there before. Feist won't risk that with his party.

It's probably K15. If they go through somewhere else, spread some news about Munitions Factory No. 11 and figure a way to lure them there.

Same rules as usual?

Yes. Clean that path up as much as you can.

And don't get spotted when we make a kill, yeah?

You're more wary with these regular workers and 'The Exemplars' than you are with the Sarkaz.

In case something <i>does</i> go awry, could you just let me know if you see them as friend or foe?

That doesn't matter. The person they knew is no longer here.

That disgraceful traitor died in the Mausoleum of Kings, and... is no longer worthy of retrieving the glory they threw away themselves.

She hears a faint familiar sound once more.

Again and again, agitating her eardrums and heart.

But there is no white steam in the sky at all.

Perhaps, it is merely the sound of Active Originium rapidly evaporating into the air.

That armor... did it fly away?

We haven't gotten any news.

The Sarkaz might have taken it apart, or maybe Originium buried it on the battlefield.

You achieved your goal for now by leading it to the Sighs of Kings to help the Exemplars out. But it's really difficult to control. Do we have to figure out a way to retrieve it?

Let's not risk ourselves with that yet.

Sure, I mean, it might just pop out on its own accord whenever. Who knows what a mad ghost would want to do next?

Perhaps...

Or maybe, when next we meet, he can find a bit of... something that belongs to him.

*cough* *cough* No, absolutely NOT! You know just how rare it is to find protective gear able to cope with high levels of Originium in Londinium nowadays!

But, your price is just too—

We have a lot of people in our community who needs these, so can't you just cut it down...?

You just told me your wife and child have stones growing on them, and they can't bear with the pain—

I'll be frank. Me too! Every night it gets so bloody painful I can't catch a wink!

I suspect the same goes for everyone in this city. These wretched crystals are growing wantonly on everybody!

Not to mention those devils anxiously running amok now.

So, listen well. My price is fairer than fair. You're worried for your health, but I have to plan for my future.

Columbia's private sanatoriums don't come cheap. I know a director there who's a cunning scoundrel, and I only hope he doesn't con me out of my coin.

I also have to pay my servants, my chef...

What's going on?!

Mr. Hall, they're currently—