level_act22side_07_beg

Young bard, I cannot give you an answer. Let those who come after give it!

Now, as it just so happens, I have one more matter of vital importance to relay to you all tonight.

–I'm afraid this will be the Clan of Tarans' final gathering.

Well, now, what are you saying, Your Lordship? Hasn't our cause only just begun?

Fret not. It is true that the cause of we Tarans to seek who we are is fresh and anew. What will cease to exist is merely the humble little gathering that I lead as an individual.

—Isn't that right, my dear, loyal servant?

*cough*, *cough* *cough*...

My apologies... I'm but a servant. I don't presume to understand.

It's snowing heavily outside. Your body is frail... I can ready the car for you at any moment.

No need.

Mr. Williams, would you share a walk with me on this snow-filled day?

It would be my honor. The inn I'm staying in had no firewood to begin with. There isn't much left for the snow to hinder.

Really? I see... Yes, I never did prevent City Council from imposing winter taxes on the Taran districts.

Everyone deserves at least a warm fire on a chilly day like this.

Come. Maybe we can chat some more about your creations, the stories you collected in these villages, and what Tara could—should—have been.

'May death connect us with all legends.'

Quiet, did you hear those footsteps? They sound heavy. They'll be pretty tough for soldiers.

Move, move, move, this way! We'll hide in the other direction!

The campfire's still burning... I can take a piece of timber as a torch.

Alright, I'll go with you to fetch it in a moment.

Hey! Reed! You hear me?!

Reeeeed—

There's no response... Quick, hide over here! We'll split into two groups in a minute, then look for her!

And even if we can't find her, we need to find Bagpipe and Ch'en!

Tch.

You dare interfere with a military operation?

Something wrong? If I can't shake you, I'll fight you. Not like I haven't scrapped with you Victorian soldiers before.

'Reed.'

Cry after cry cuts through the smoke and mist.

Reed knows the way she should go.

They shouldn't be dragged into this conflict. I have to help them—

—Ungh!

Unfortunate. A few inches shy.

Hm? I recall having reported to the Leader about this, but not anyone else...

You can't possibly be so naive as to think you're the only one in Dublinn to form your own intelligence network.

If you're to bring that puppet back, I'm afraid there is no course of action more suitable at present than mobilizing my squadron.

My, how grateful I am, then... Are you seeking to supervise my work? Or is it more that you'd like to eliminate her yourself?

Should she refuse her identity as a shadow, my blade will be faster than your Arts.

I've seen how diverse viewpoints can be in this masterless Victoria. There is no need for Dublinn to continue staging such a charade.

If you've come to kill me... does that mean—Dublinn is prepared?

You are the only uncertainty left.

I thought that as a puppet, you would at least learn how to think, <i>at least</i> pretend. I thought you'd have the capacity to set your sights farther. It is disappointing, however, to see your foolish kindness.

If you had followed the spectre force's code of operation from the start and eliminated all witnesses, things would not have taken one wrong turn after another. The situation we find ourselves in now would never have developed.

A second wound. Far from enough to stop a Draco in her tracks, but I'm sure you know that even though no other Dublinn militant is bound your way, this remains a one-sided battle.

I cannot see what right you have to instigate this petty coup d'état against the Leader.

Heeyy—Helloooo—

(...The Taran civilians are down this direction. If Bagpipe and Reed hear the shouts, they'll definitely break through this way too.)

Hang in there! I'm coming!

Ch'en? Thank god, someone finally responded...

—That was fast! Where did that come from?

Ch'en Hui-chieh. Superintendent Ch'en.

Ch'en thrusts in the direction of the voice, only to find her blade hitting nothing but thick fog.

She feels a chill.

Have you ever considered the troubles you could bring Wei Yenwu by attacking the Victorian army here?

...I'm doing this because I want to. What does this have to do with him?

I'm simply rescuing the innocents who were dragged into this conflict. If you're going to criticize my actions from a diplomatic angle, I suggest you reflect on your own first.

You may be attempting to gloss over how complicated these events truly are. That said, I still have a question for you. Take your time to answer, though.

Why did you come to Victoria?

Or perhaps I should ask, who did you come to Victoria for?

My upbringing, my family, and my personal grudges have nothing to do with the conflict unfolding before us right now.

At this moment, no matter what you suspect, I will only answer with the blade I hold in my hand.

Now—

Back off.

Found you, Mr. Fischer!

You don't seem to have come for peace talks.

Dublinn's forces are right before us. I'm sure you know who your enemy is here.

Sorry, but my mission's to rescue everyone... You had your forces planted in advance, and you've got Arts protection. There's no breakin' through this for us if we don't get rid of the mist.

You can try to stop me, then.

Neutralize her. Don't waste any time.

Understood!

Huff... If only I had some ammo on me. Goin' to be a right pain dealin' with multiple at once.

2nd Tempest Platoon member Fiona Young, codename 'Bagpipe.'

I've read every single report you submitted on the County Hillock Incident. You have my utmost respect for your actions.

If at all possible, we should be joining forces, not pointing our weapons at one another.

And considering you're still investigating the truth behind the County Hillock Incident, we can follow standard procedure and interrogate any and all Dublinn personnel we capture here and give you any information you want.

Eh, I'll pass. I'm bad at tellin' if someone's lyin' or not, and I'm not the best at interrogation, either.

As a show of sincerity, I can give you a single piece of information right now.

The Redsteel Guard.

You know who they are, don't you? Now—take notice of the combat style of the Dublinn forces here tonight.

Oh, I think visibility improved a bit just now... I reckon keepin' Originium Arts like this goin' got to take a toll, right?

Not such a toll that it would affect my plan. And I won't allow anyone to get in its way either, of course.

You could say that this war belongs to we, the intelligence workers... There won't be a single misstep from me. I strive to ensure true war does not break out, and millions continue to live in peace.

No, see, sure, missions end good or bad, but right or wrong? That's hard to judge.

A rock...?

Oh, Mr. Fionn! Why'd you come all the way out here on your lonesome? It's dangerous!

I-I don't know. I got lost in the mist. Haha...

Look, I'm not joking, I MEAN dangerous! Hurry up and leave!

*sigh* I know... but I have to help. Some of them are in even greater danger...

I-It's fine. I can handle myself. You really don't need to worry about me. I can knock out a man at a time with this hoe here.

You lot. You're armed with nothing but scavenger pickings. Broken swords and dulled sabers. Who are you to stand in our way?

Hah, you're out to capture our Leader! Who are <i>you</i> to say what we can and can't do?

Leader? So you really are...

Working together? That's right. Why else would we come here to rescue her?

She can fight, and she can guide the way when we leg it. We need her.

...Trying a rear ambush?

Nice one, Moran!

No luck, I can't pierce the armor with this duff knife...

Hey—don't use your torch. Your timber's not even oiled. It'll go out easy...

Urff—bloody hell!

All she catches sight of is the soldier's burned arm. He swings his military saber, his face a mix of agony and anger.

The saber swipes past her hand, cleaving the torch into two. The lit end falls into the mud, and goes out softly in a puff of smoke.

Hah... okay, not bad. Now he's gonna have trouble with his blade.

Here, I'll hold onto you.

Phew... Hey, how much longer can you hold that, you think? Don't push yourself.

Don't make me laugh. So you can resist a little. What else?

...Selmon, leave me be.

I hear a few more coming this way. You hear that too, don't you?

...I do.

Tarans...?

Us? That's right.

But I took these rags from someone dead. I'm not with your group...

Best leave, Tarans. Go somewhere safe.

...I never said—I wanted to make an enemy of her.

I want to correct—the mistakes she made. Nothing more.

You seek moralistic perfection in the face of war?

Then be the coward and hypocrite you are. Find yourself coerced again like in Hillock, betrayed again like in Peninsula.

The blade tears the night wind asunder. The sharp clang of metal and the interrogative of the officer lunge as one at Reed.

But she doesn't listen. She can hear wails far sharper in the winds.

She knows there are defenseless Tarans shedding blood in this conflict, falling, right this moment.

She could call out the names of each and every one of those wailing. It was but a few hours ago—when she'd heard their voices sing the folksong of home.

...She simply—cannot hear these cries.

Have you ever asked yourself—who the Tarans you're saving are?

Fire...?

You guys... Watch out for Reed's Originium Arts!

Eh?

She's very powerful right now.

But these flames... don't seem like her own.

A Draco's flames are beautiful, wouldn't you agree?

...They do not exceed what I anticipated, Harmonie.

Still, we do have a poor soul right here stupefied by the show.

It's too bad, really. You don't know me yet. Just like you never got to properly know your friend next to you there.

But thanks are due, I will say, for you putting up such a diligent fight against this Victorian's squad. His Arts are dilute enough not to impact our giving chase now.

...It's like County Hillock again. The more valiant you are, the sorrier I feel for you.

The battle here is over, so you're free to go now. Dublinn won't lay a finger on you... They could even escort you, if you'd like.

...I'll pass.

W-What's she saying? Bagpipe, do you know her? Are we fighting her or not?

No... Let's go.

We need to fetch Reed.

—You're very kind to her.

Of course I would've silenced her. If it wasn't for the Taran next to her.

Still, if she can make our Draco realize she has nowhere to belong but Dublinn, then that's all the better.

Your forces seem to have assembled towards my end now.

Indeed. The poor child's fleeing northwest under our pursuit.

Heh. Much further, and she'll be in the heart of Duke Wellington's domain.

Once she's there, everything she does will be under Dublinn's thumb.

So the priority right now is... shall we say, <i>dealing</i> with everyone who knows too much.

In the unlikely event you live to send intel back, it won't be much more than what your death itself would've told them.

Selmon, slow down... I'm having trouble keeping up. Where are we?

Must've run about two hundred meters into the woods, from the camp. Hah. Gave that soldier a good drubbing, now none of them are hounding us.

Oof... We're safe here. I'll treat my injuries first, then I'll head back and tell everyone to come this way and meet up with you.

People with Fionn's naff skills shouldn't be sticking around so long on the battlefield. Ought to be fighters like me.

Tch. You're miles better at fighting than he is, too.

...Selmon, there's a huge din behind us. What happened?

All I can see is... a faint glow.

Hah, rotten shame you don't get to see proper. It's the fire from Reed's Arts, no doubt about it.

Is it a fine sight?

Mhm.

But, well, I've known all along she was capable of that.

...Was night always this cold, out in the wilds...?

Suppose you're willing to light your fire. Will that make it a little warmer... a little brighter?

I don't know why you're disappointed in Dublinn, or why they're disappointed in you. The Tarans want to survive. They should survive. It's the simplest logic. How can any of it be a lie?

Before you leave the group, I need to talk to you about the whole—'going to Dublinn' thing. You'd know the way, right?

Moran, we'll head forward a little more. It'll be safer that way. Don't be afraid. It's all muddy here. If those soldiers retreat, they won't be coming this way.

Besides, the sun should be almost up.

Their step finally slows. Moran no longer staggers trying to keep up.

Selmon, are we somewhere safe now?

I'm not afraid of bad news... Tell me.

They walk forward. Amongst the howl of the wind, distant explosions, and the cries, Moran tries her hardest to discern the sound of Selmon.

There should've been some forewarning, in that moment. Selmon should've stopped in her tracks, said something. At the very least, a scornful cackle at the fate of the Tarans.

But what Moran feels is simple; a step made, and the hand in hers falls, all of a sudden.

And she stoops, and cannot tell if what she feels is thick blood or wet mud.