horn

(The first page of a memorandum.)

Triangle, Snare, Bass, Mandolin, Cello, Oboe.

I won't forget.

March 20th

Skirmished with Dublinn again, and made off with some resources for survival, including a notebook and this pen. I can finally straighten out my thoughts to a degree.

Mandragora hasn't been fighting at full force. We couldn't have recovered the wounded Londiniers otherwise. I'm surprised that lunatic knows self-restraint―or maybe even she realizes Dublinn's just a lone current in Londinium's vortex.

I still can't make out the full picture of that vortex. Which scares me, even.

...Is that really what Captain Mandragora said?

Aye, those were her orders.

So she's off cavorting about with nobles too! I didn't want those stuck-up lords bossing me about! That's why I went with her in the first place, you know?

And warning us to speak no ill of the Sarkaz? We're collaborating with those devils? Is she having a laugh?

You'd have a pillar straight through you if the Captain was here. Just mind a little what you say. She's got her plans.

Or these plans are The Leader's, in which case I say you zip it even tighter.

Over here, Viccy.

Captain says we're to take your cuffs off. You can go get a breath of fresh air.

What is this, a trick? Are you planning to aim at me once my back is turned? Use me for crossbow practice and laugh while I run?

You can try, then. The outcome will disappoint you—or you'll be dead before then.

Hah, there's that stiff upper lip! You're just as hoity-toity as any Viccy!

But you're not all wrong, I suppose. If you think you can escape, you'll have to see if you can outrun a bolt first, I'll tell you that.

Enough, Victorian. It was Captain Mandragora's decision to allow you a little free time for once before we enter Londinium. You'd best be grateful.

See your city's wall there? Looks as tall and mighty and indestructible as ever from here, doesn't it?

Drink in the sight, and hold onto it. It's a magnificent illusion, I'll give you that, and once we're in the city, you'll miss being so mistaken.

Do you know what happened in Londinium?

You'll see for yourself in a few days.

Not that Londinium's state has much to do with your likes, seeing as you'll drop dead before long.

E-Excuse me, do you know how far it is to the nearest settlement from here?

Settlement? Hah, you're on the run out?

So's everyone else, don't be daft. Settlements nearby could never take you in—

Shut.

—We're an army from far off, madam. We're not familiar with this place.

My apologies...

Hold on, please. You came fleeing from Londinium?

What's... the situation like in there now?

Er. Didn't you know?

The Sarkaz have made their move. Londinium is putty in their hands as we speak.

Then what about—

—No one knows where the defense force's gone. We hear they collapsed from the inside. Not a soul's stepped out to defend the civilians of Victoria.

(How did she know what I'd ask? And what changed? Why is this Dublinn fighter being so polite with the Victorian here?)

But I can't say I know what's gone on in every part of Londinium. It's a massive place, and I've been out of the city for a good moment now, just wandering about everywhere.

How about Londinium's perimeter, then? Would you be familiar with how much noble power is concentrated about it?

That's not something small city-folk like me ought to know.

—I don't even know if the 'White Wolf' Count's anywhere around, grand as he is. Years and years I've held him in high regard, ever since he saved my parents' lives once upon a time.

Sorry, I'm familiar with who you speak of, but it's been extraordinarily long since I heard his title.

(She recognizes me.)

(Nods)

My guess is he'd be collaborating with some noble now, readying his forces for this whole quarrel.

—I'd wager the 'White Wolf' doesn't plan to work with other nobility. He cares moreso about his homeland, and less who the throne belongs to.

I understand...

Excuse me, but that's enough of the info inquiry.

We're still an army with discipline. Not like the straggling forces you saw in Londinium, I'm afraid, madam. You'd better be on your way while the sun's still up.

Ah, I'm sorry. I'll be leaving now.

Oh, you'll all be entering Londinium soon, won't you? We can at least shake hands, soldier.

(This is my own personal hope.)

—I hope, once you're back, you'll have the chance to drop in on my family. They decided to stay when I fled. I don't know if we'll ever see each other again.

Our family lives on the wharf. You'll recognize my daughter once you see her.

Alright. I'll do all I can.

(If I'm not mistaken, she should be... a Messenger of Count Mourning's.)

Soldier. You ought to know why it is I've paid you a 'visit,' don't you?

What a pity you are, still hoping your noble standing'll give you some kind of sway. Trying to influence others' decisions with your own personal statements.

Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately? You don't know the fate of your own sacrifices. You fought your battle and lost in every way. You killed every last one of your own underlings.

You should be defanged clean by now, but here you are still howling through empty gums.

Given you're so annoyed you're still spitting venom at me like a day hasn't passed, the noble you went begging to must've seen through your lies.

No. I'd never disappoint The Leader. But I'll disappoint you, though.

There's nothing your clever little voicebox can change! They don't even care if it's the truth or not that you work with Dublinn. As long as you're still alive, it's Dublinn they'll bet on.

You're daydreaming. Wake up. The vast majority are nothing like you, killing yourself in the name of Victoria. They'll try every trick in the book to save their own souls and that's where it ends.

Don't worry, little Feline. I'll at least see your life go out before I die for Victoria.

Heh. You just love to front, oh so hard. Pretending you're still not done with yet?

Believe me as little as you want, then. I know reality'll dawn on you soon enough.

March 27th

I wasn't in time to ask that soldier's name. Dublinn's Originium Arts had him pinned in the ruins. There was nothing I could do.

I've continued to amass intel on Londinium, and I have a general idea of where most of the defense force's soldiers went at this point. Serving the Sarkaz was the choice of most, and I've managed to convince myself that it wasn't beyond expectations. We also learned of the address of a detention center from him, one that's holding some of ours.

But I don't know if they'll still want to fight, or even if they still can. I've seen too many people tried and tortured, and the wrecked state of their bodies after.

Why couldn't I have found them just a little earlier?

Maybe that soldier... would've wanted to tell me as much, but couldn't get the words out. I'm left unable to even record his name, nor can I deliver his loved ones a last word from him. I couldn't have—I couldn't have found him just a little earlier.

How do we lay such hatred low? What number strong would a force have to be to kill that Dublinn lunatic? She has to die. Even if I have no sword and no mantlet, even if I may be outdone by her, I have to take vengeance on her.

I'm losing a grip on my own thoughts. Stop writing. This is no calm decision-making.

Hey, do we still have to keep eyes on that Victorian loony?

Just give her a glance on the regular. Captain's said we have to ensure she stays alive.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one... And again, Triangle, keep training, I'm starting the count over...

Listen to that, she's mumbling to herself again. She was there sometimes before, but now she doesn't hear a single word we say. Just talks to the dead every day.

Enough, enough. Go have your break. I'm on shift now.

Hey, soldier.

For now, we'll suppose the enemy's formation includes shieldguards and Casters, and the bombardiers are positioned here...

Hey! The Captain gives you good food and drink, doesn't grill you or torture you one bit, and that's what it takes for you to go unhinged?

Crushed by life just because a few friends of yours died? Would you like to know how much us Tarans have lost?

It's beyond anyone how dross like you made it as a Victorian Army... lieutenant? Hah, that was your title, right?

Don't rush. Stand behind my shield. You're not withstanding an explosion, no matter how good your constitution is...

Never mind, still not reacting at all. Carry on chatting with your imaginary friends.

Right, there's no chance you remember by now. You once said you'd never failed on an assignment before, how your shield would protect every last man.

What, was it too humiliating that we did this to you? Just forcing yourself to forget it all now?

Heh, I suppose the Captain gave us a bit of fun, leaving you here—

—What the hell is she up to now?

Where is she?!

She tore the vent cover off the ceiling...? You really think that'll let you escape?

Trying to go through the ducts? Get back out here, Viccy!

You only opened the door to catch me because you truly thought I'd gone mad. Thank you for letting your guard down.

Why you...!

How'd you... Where'd you get that blade from?

Someone very kindhearted hoped I'd check in on their family after reaching Londinium, and gave me this little folding knife on the side. It's no weapon, but it's enough to prize off a vent grill.

By the way, the air vents here are nowhere near enough to let someone crawl out, or else I'd be gone long ago.