level_act22side_05_end

No, run! They're over here, too!

Bloody hell... They've got this whole open part surrounded, don't they?

Erk...

Freeze.

Okay, okay, I—I will... Bit too close with your saber there... You won't slip or anything, right?

R-Reed, help us! What do we do?!

Against this many... it'll be hard to force our way out.

Huff... huh...? Did they just break my cudgel in half?

...They're acting very confident—

They don't want to seize us violently. They just want to quell the resistance we put up.

Oof, not half bad, this lot...

I don't get it. How'd they follow us out to here? Where'd they come from...?

—Wait, that one. I've seen him before.

A couple days ago, when we ran into the spectre force...

Which means you lot aren't County Trent. These refugees are outside your jurisdiction. You've got no authority to arrest them.

We'll have to take off our gloves here, if you're not goin' to follow the rules.

The rules? That goes for you too. I see your piledriver spear missing its shells. You shouldn't be in a mile of the battlefield, soldier.

It's not like this was meant to be a battlefield, was it?! They've not even put the campfire out...

—Watch out!

A black dagger slides forward without a sound. Its tip reflects not even the slightest bit of light, instead drawing a path of smoke.

The dagger points intimidatingly at Bagpipe's throat, though its bearer gives it no glance; his eyes have been focused squarely on Reed.

Reed can tell clearly, from his sharp glare, that he and the army are out for her here.

Isn't your pike meant to be burning with flames?

I suggest you drop the futile resistance. Make the smart choice, lay your weapons down, and hear me out.

I have nothing against the Tarans, let alone any plans to retaliate against civilians. And as for steering the masses clear of ruin, you and I should be united on that front.

Here's the official paperwork.

What? A City Council writ of investigation?

The former Victorian soldier sets her weapon down.

Per the Council of the County of Trent's decision, I am here to investigate an overlooked, puzzling aspect of the arson cases.

...I—have no other choice, correct?

*sniffle*... *sob*...

—What are you doing? Quiet down.

...... (Sobs)

(Agh, this is terrible.)

(Always thought I should at least get my will in order, you know, before I finally meet my maker...)

(If you ask me? Should've written it up long ago.)

(I did right after we first made it out, but I tore it up, I've been so happy these past two days. Really regret that now.)

(Oh, shut up, Fionn. We're not done for yet.)

(They've got us all tied up and gagged, and everything we had to fight with got taken away. What else are we gonna do other than wait to die?)

(Sigh... Interrogation. Terrifying word. How many Tarans do we know made it alive out of an interrogation?)

(And who knows what they're prying out of a woman as kind as Reed.)

(We all know each other, like family we are, but we don't know Reed from a bar of soap. Don't know where she came from, don't know what she was doing before.)

(What, is she an enemy to you now?!)

(No, no, no, that's not what I meant... I just...)

(*sigh* Selmon. You can't just make someone not be afraid to die.)

(We can still see the fire from here. How long's it been since we last had the light of fire on a cold dark night?)

(Really thought I managed to escape, I did.)

(You even came about borrowing some stuff to rustle up some money. Didn't I say I'd make you some smoked fowl to sell?)

(Enough. We need to think of something. Figure this situation out.)

(What? Figure this out? And what good is it gonna do us?)

(...I'm fed up of this, that's all.)

(I hate listening to how much you just sigh. Squatting about in the Taran quarter, passing by village threshing floors... it's just sighs everywhere. I'm sick of it.)

(Enough. Save it. Don't ask me how. You've always managed to find a way out.)

(I'll draw the attention of those guards. Whatever you're going to do, figure it out yourself.)

You can ease yourself a little, 'Reed.' We're just having an ordinary chat.

We have a warm fire, and we can hear the fowls chirp in the night. Surely you'd agree, this is a much more comfortable environment for conversation than a full-fledged interrogation room would be.

No comment? That's your choice. I won't give you trouble for it.

Perhaps the nearby barracks' disrespect has given you cause for alarm. Allow me to apologize in their stead.

Are you... here to investigate Dublinn? None of the people here have anything to do with them...

You needn't explain. As you'd expect, I already have a good grasp of the situation.

A singular attack has indeed spurred a minor region's barracks to take undue action against approximately a dozen Tarans, going so far as to accuse them of being part of 'Dublinn insurrectionist forces'.

But in the company of all else contained in this very, very heavy dossier, their mistakes aren't worthy of mention. Of course, your situation is a little different compared to anyone else's...

...But I believe I can do something to help you break free of these troubles.

After all, no stretch of your escape can have been easy.

If... it wasn't for such harsh decrees, they would never have needed to run.

No, please. This is a chat between the two of us, and I'm hoping you'll tell me about yourself. About the escape you began long prior to this one.

...I don't understand what you're talking about.

I'm asking you—

About your past identity.

There are no records of any kind on you. No medical records, no nomadic city immigration records, no tax records, nothing.

...We Tarans are driven out wherever we go. It's not strange—that you don't see me in Victoria's records.

Then what about the unrest in County Hillock last autumn? Were you there?

And what about the County Peninsula attack last May?

I'm asking you and you alone.

Madam, if one does not tell anyone their birth name, where they are from, or who they are...

Wouldn't you say... they're just like a 'shadow?'

Chenchen, I reckon you've already figured out who these men are?

Yeah. The ones that just fought us are no normal soldiers. Interrogating on the spot is very unique for procedure, too.

Plus, their leader knows quite a lot. That's why he's so courteous toward us... and me in particular.

Right. I was just thinkin', they're lettin' us stand here and wait, only keepin' a couple men on watch, but the Tarans all have to have their hands bound. It's not fair...

Still, how'd he figure out who you are?

...I didn't expect the Intelligence Service to work this case.

The Intelligence Service? Why would THEY be lookin' for Reed?

Her background must be an unusual one.

And that's why she insisted on acting alone. She didn't want to drag anyone into the mess.

Oh, I've got a bad feelin' about this... Are they actually goin' to talk, you know, to a Taran? They won't rough her up, or threaten her into sayin' somethin' against her will, right?

Keep your voice down.

Mm... I remember what you wrote in your report on County Hillock.

Right. He's got his writ from City Council, he says he'll keep the peace and he has nothin' against Tarans, but...

No. I should trust more. He's still an arm of City Council. He's not here to mess things up.

Most people can't withstand the pressure of interrogations, though.

...Do you remember how we did things, back in school when we partnered up?

Oh! Your hand signal. I do...

I remember. That's the ones we communicated with, the time we snatched those hazardous Originium products.

Good thing you remember.

It doesn't matter what Reed's background is. If she ends up as someone's pawn, that's going to send ripples through the status quo.

Yeah, and it'll be a nightmare on her as well... I mean, she's always seemed like she's been—tryin' to shake herself of somethin'.

I hear you loud and clear, Chenchen. We'll bring her back to Rhodes Island.

Dearie, me... what pristinely clear tracks.

It seems your opponent is extending you an invitation again.

Oh, please, less ridicule.

And unfortunately, I'm afraid 'invitation' is an overstatement this time. He doesn't even so much as care about what dance his guest intends on.

We're making our positions plenty clear just by showing our faces.

Dublinn will rescue poor Loughshinny, expose her identity... and in the end, testify as to where I really stand.

And he knows. I have to wade in... so the other Draco of Tara doesn't land in his Duke's hands, and lessen The Leader's influence as a Draco herself.

No matter. I shall wipe his ambitions clean.

...The fowlbeasts have stopped calling. Do you understand what that means?

...... (Shakes head)

That's fine. Why don't we start with accounts of your recent incidents?

You haven't caused serious injury to anyone. Even the arson at the barracks resulted in no deaths nor casualties, with only some supplies lost to fire.

Most Tarans are driven by their hatred of the Victorians to commit graver crimes. Your methods, in contrast, have been very mild.

Some witnesses even attest how you tried to fend off the Dublinn soldiers.

Do you admit to all this?

I can only admit—I by no means wish to harm others.

Good. I can believe that. You have a fair conscience in you.

Now, if we can turn our attention to the quietened fowlbeasts...

...It seems your Dublinn friends are here to save you.

No... No.

I can't go back...

Go back? Oh, you mean—back to your life as a shadow?

Back to the kind of life surrounded by smoldering corpses, where the ashes of the dead coat the city streets?

To someone blessed with a conscience, it must be a very painful life.

But it so happens you have a chance right now. You can make your own decision.

Accept our protection. Your past crimes will be looked into no further.

I...

I will never!

She must run. Run from the watchful eyes of all.

But how far must she go before she's finally run away?

Now!

Aye!

Sorry, but you'll want to try on my fortcracker for size again!

Brandishing her piledriver spear, Bagpipe's gaze is away from the tent. Behind her stands Ch'en, and Ch'en's eyes, however, widen for an instant.

With not a sound, the tent over the interrogation turns to ashes.

A beam of flames bolts through the dark night, to then immediately vanish without a trace.