level_act30side_08_end

Erk...

Ghakh!

Watch out—!

Next.

Heyaaaargh!!

Reporting in, sir!

With Colonel Harold's support, we've brought all our current casualties back to safety!

However, as things stand for us, we still don't have a way to strike the enemy where it hurts!

Charge!

Make use of your arms! The enemy is one soldier! Surround her!

But...

Sir, wouldn't it be better for us to divert around her?

She's an army of one! She's got not hope of holding us if we just widen the front!

You... gormless idiot!

Was that meant to be a revelation to me?

Then why...

They didn't give you eyes in your head for nothing!

You saw what our men on Kjeragandr's doorstep were attempting, didn't you? All of them as smart as you, off to break the perimeter from somewhere else!

Compare that to the rest! Are <i>they</i> in as near as bad a state?

Sir, you're not telling me...

Private, I don't know what the hell I could be telling you—DUCK!

Guh...!

My hand slipped.

Done gossiping?

When in the hell did you get here...?!

Just now.

If you were counting on a few dozen men there to stop me, then you <i>really</i> weren't ready for me.

Tsk! Monster incarnate...

A few dozen won't do the trick? Then surely a few hundred will. How about over a thousand?

You'll learn. In the face of a real army, there <i>is</i> no army of one—

Clench your teeth.

What?

Keep your mouth shut when I hit you.

You don't want to bite your tongue.

A bitter slice of wind whistles through.

One against two thousand should be the pinnacle of despair. Her golden eyes tell of no such qualms—stern and still and steady.

She is the predator without dispute. She is the ruler over this battlefield.

Slight the affairs of one Ms. Degenbrecher, dare to even begin to scorn her, and you too are an affront to her.

—You'd best hope your own life meant as little to you.

Steady now, Madam Degenbrecher!

If my subordinates have cocked up talks with you, then it falls to me to apologize in their stead.

Oh?

You?

And how long can you shield them for?

Well! Ha-hah. Might I suggest... until I die a soldier's death?

*hiss*...

I'm no match for your namesakes! Clearly I've not the horns to lock with you in a fight.

Do you recall, Madam Degenbrecher, when I asked after your name?

I no longer see any time like the present. Might I be elucidated?

You have the guts to stall with me?

*wheeze*, *wheeze*!

Two of a mind can spare a word in no-man's land! It <i>is</i> done, you know... it's the done thing!

I barely even remember my real name. You can pretend I never had one.

Plenty of people in Leithanien's ruined streets without a name or a home.

—I'd heard tell of your Leithanian birth, but <i>never</i> had I known that to be your life's story...

I once read in the dailies how you pilgrimed home there. Adulation of the masses. Dinners with the upper crust.

Throw a trophy at a burdenbeast and watch them love it too. They don't tell the difference.

Don't let it fool you.

It's not a place where names change anything. No one's going to ask you when you're down in the gutter with the wastewater.

Yet now you've a name with... such power.

Power?

Not exactly.

It was a sunny day.

A Gendarmerie patrol rounded up anyone with no place to go on the corner. One of them was carrying a strange weapon I'd never seen before. No point. No edge.

No fine combat technique. No deep method to it.

No simpler way to bludgeon. No part was anything of mention. I watched as he took that thing to anybody who tried to resist, and caved in their skulls.

From that moment on, it's been clear to me what I have.

Not a code, or a creed, or a technique. Nothing that sounds nice out loud.

It's violence.

So that day, I named myself.

I <i>am</i> what I wield.

There's a Minoan school of thought, where they hold violence and victory as sisters. The two are inseparably close—they make one another.

A look at you, and I could be convinced.

Madam Degenbrecher, if you're violence in the flesh like you say... then who, exactly, is your victory dedicated to?

And finally, one last little quibble from me—though I do think—it may not be worth much in the asking.

That Gendarmerie who first enlightened you—was victory a sister to him too?

I did like his degenbrechers.

Good to use, but broke too fast.

Just like you, Craigavon.

Your arm's almost gone.

Hush-hush, Madam Degenbrecher! Spare me the truth.

I do happen to be command of my own regiment. A little dignity, if you please...

Were the clock turned back thirty... no, just twenty years, I'd only be too glad your opponent.

But as it stands, and though I hate to admit it, the reality's all too obvious—I'm one of the old ones now.

You don't look it.

Ah-ha, you think so too?!

Then I take it back—see, I've been telling them all, my mind's as sharp as ever!

It's just this blasted prosthetic leg—the socket always stings on rainy days...

Less talk.

How long until you give?

How long until I give is hardly important.

What matters is, Madam Degenbrecher, how long until you give?

You can try me and see.

Now both sides have made their move.

It seems Degenbrecher can still bear out for the moment. Harold is saving his strength, and his bombers and Casters are all but smelling the roses.

Your wine may not have been wasted after all, Enciodes.

What of Weiss and Matterhorn?

I've sent a team of Tschäggättä to find them.

Given what reports have returned so far, the two were likely taken by surprise.

Viscount Craigavon wouldn't place them in mortal danger. That takes senility, and he has none.

We can only hope.

Our people are en route to the station to stand by. They'll send us word immediately once they intercept.

May it be that our guest arrives on time.

What of the merchants that just contacted you?

They won't be too daring for now.

Gnosis, pass word onto the Saintess for me—

You can save that step!

I'm right here. If you have something to say, say it to me in person, Sir Enciodes.

Saintess.

The Silverashes are disgraced to have allowed such a spiral of events on ceremony grounds. Once the ceremony is over, I will personally take myself to the Vine-Bead Court to apologize to you, Saintess.

But for now, I fear the ceremony will need to be postponed for another while.

As it should. Your message is loud and clear, Sir Enciodes.

If there is anything I can do, I ask you continue to come to me directly.

And not exploit that my own conscience might force me to see you first.

Saintess, praise thy benevolence.

But you and the Court devotees must be prudent right now. After you resume this ceremony yourself, Saintess, that will suffice to appease the people.

Degenbrecher's strength needs no introduction. A promise from her is exceedingly rare, and in the event she makes one, it's never broken.

I think we should give her our full confidence.

Is your confidence that Degenbrecher can fight one against a thousand, or that she has the disregard to die valiantly, in perfect service to your schemes?

Degenbrecher is ahead confronting the Victorians, and I know her mentality. She holds that, her own reputation aside, the slate with Kjerag can still be wiped clean should anything go wrong.

She... wait, did she tell you this herself?

She defends Kjerag's dignity as one of Her plain, ordinary citizens.

Saintess, do you believe that I bluntly ordered her? Provoked her?

Even I might say she's changed some. Thus I've trusted her this once—I've gambled on her.

Had I not, you might have watched that affable Viscount lose his life to a few 'panicked tourists'.

We gamble for a best case scenario.

'Gamble'.

I have always considered the success or failure of anything to hinge on one's own grasp, and not entreaties to gods.

Nothing goes unaccounted for. I put all the chips down. I see it through, win or lose. I've never complained about it.

But...

Sir Enciodes.

Unclasp your hands. You've bruised yourself.

I ask you pray for Degenbrecher, Great Saintess.

Weiss!

Wake up, Weiss!

Nngh...

Matterhorn...?

Where... I...?

—! Shit! The Victorians are changing it up! Their goal can't be that simple!

We have to contact the Master!

Gk—*hiss*—

Stay still, Weiss!

If they even managed to subdue and lock up both you and me, then our squad's people can't have escaped either. I've tried, but brute strength alone isn't going to free us.

It's light outside... It looks like it's day already.

Where are the Victorians?

All gone.

Unfortunately... they've probably swarmed the ceremonial grounds.

Matterhorn, help me out here.

What do you need?

I hide a razor in my shoe's upper.

If you can just take it out, Matterhorn... and toss me it!

Don't be insane!

What are you using that razor for? In your position? Do you not value your hands?!

I have to try.

The Master gave me this mission, and I couldn't complete it.

And if that's forced him into a passive situation, then I...

In any case, even if I'm too late, and he doesn't need it, I'm still going to redeem what isn't lost! I have to make up for my disappointment!

I suppose you're right.

Matterhorn heaves his body around, laying his fingers over the curve of Weiss's boot.

But what follows betrays Weiss's hopes. He doesn't toss the razor over, but instead pinches the paper-thin tool of murder between his fingers, and with great effort, strains and slashes at the rope over Weiss's wrists.

In its tenuous grip, the blade slips down between his fingers, and cuts into their pulp. Vivid red blood trickles down his wrist.

Matterhorn!

Your hand!

It'll be fine. It's just a scratch.

You were going to do the same thing, weren't you?

You do have a point, Weiss. The Master's expecting us. We can't leave him waiting too long.

Just give me one moment, and I can get this rope cut!

Matterhorn...

Umm...

Who's there?!

I'm not your enemy.

Sorry, you two were having a moment, weren't you?

Monch?

Didn't you leave Kjerag?

About that... well, I'll explain in full later.

Madam Sciurus sent me out to scout. That's how I found you all tied up in this Victorian camp.

Where are the others?

I already set them free.

Anyway, both of you, get going. The Victorians kicked off battle at Lake Silberneherze.

We need to be there as soon as we can.

Damn it! She can't hold for long!

As if I can sit here and look on!

You get back here, Arctosz!

Do you seriously think you have the monopoly on righteous anger, Arctosz? We <i>wish</i> we could step in! If your eyes are shot, then try using your brain!

You acting will <i>definitively</i> ruin things!

Stooping behind others so I can feel sorry for myself runs counter to the Paleroche clan's blood!

I can't bear to see this!

Bear to see it, you baby!

Someone here is having a harder time watching than you, I guarantee.

Ten years that Degenbrecher's lived in Kjerag, hasn't she? Just to be some sacrificial pawn here?

If today Enciodes can't settle all this, then no amount of achievement, no spoil for Kjerag, could ever convince me to lend him an ear again.

I'm far from the grand actor the rest of you would be! I cannot be as calm as any of you are!

And it's too little, too late for that.

All you and I can do now is believe in her.

I won't be arranging treatment for your wounded hands, then. Remember to hide it with gloves when the time comes.

Also, I imagine the Tschäggättä's report aligns with your gut.

We can't count on Degenbrecher lasting much longer.

She's no longer evading.

She's acting how she used to in her Kazimierz competition days.

Only, afterwards...

Afterwards, as she fled the assassins with you, she amended that habit.

Any lack of care by her at that point, and you'd die sooner than she did.

Quite.

Still no word from your end?

None.

My investigators already returned. They're sure your guest boarded the train in question to Lake Silberneherze. If anything, it should have arrived just as the ceremony wound down.

As it is, it'll still take some time until that train arrives.

I see...

Gnosis, never have I feared any wager.

Every step that I take, that I've ever taken, I've staked it all.

This time is no different.

I know.

I believe myself to be sufficiently prepared.

And yet, I find my patience is made of poorer stuff.

Thank you for telling me what's on your mind, and I know what you want to hear me say. I'll say it for you.

If you want to ensure The Black Knight's life, or you don't believe she can last until the end, then give the order now. I can tell you, there are still odds of success.

The archers and Casters at our call are best of the best. Blow up the lake's surface, create confusion, and draw the civilians and soldiers both into midwinter's icy pocket.

Enciodes, the decision lies with you—

Whatever you do, I will support it. But whatever you do, you carry the consequences in kind.

Those consequences are no simple political game. You might fail to even bear them. That, I can determine for you.

One quick question. If it were you?

Then the great winter swim would already be in full swing.

Hah.

Let's trust in Degenbrecher.

Trust she won't fall.

At some unknown point, the first wound appears on her body.

It lies about her shoulder, a slash over her suit, an imperceptible trace of blood drawn.

Compared to the kinds of wounds she's used to, this one's worth no mention.

Degenbrecher fells the few soldiers about her. Ironically, the subtle sting only sharpens the heady mix of fear her eyes strike into you, makes her movements that much more steely cold.

The second wound is brought on by Originium Arts.

An average caster means nothing to Degenbrecher, but the numbers advantage mutates the nature of the Originium Arts' efficacy.

The casters among the troops cast behind their human wall. Fire, ice and thunder burst forth in unison, with staggering momentum.

Degenbrecher flings her weapons, running one of the casters' shoulders clean through, while she stubbornly approaches through the full length of their Arts' range, and plows straight into the soldiers' midst. That puts an end to that display.

The third wound comes as the artillerymen aim a third ballista volley at her.

An opponent armed to the teeth is no fear of Degenbrecher's, but with limbs less than free, and ballistae pestering her in spades, it does get a little annoying to cope.

A shell slips through, and lands a scorch mark on her abdomen.

Her skin is seared in an instant, but hardly any blood comes. That's good, all things considered.

Degenbrecher is under no impression she'll lose.

She's just not too sure she has enough blood to last much longer.

The fourth wound, the fifth...

She loses track.

Counting them is a pain.

It's not enough...

Again!

Urgh!

Lisburn!

Charles! Withdraw Lisburn to the rear!

You staunch his bleeding, I'll be right there with first aid—!

*cough*...

She's giving out!

Now's our chance! Charge!

Hah.

As long as I can still move a finger...

Khakkhhh!

I can handle any of you.

Madam Degenbrecher!

Surely you're reaching your limits too?!

If you really meant to fight us out-and-out, you wouldn't have drawn out this situation in the first place!

Fight like this any longer, and I fear death <i>will</i> come for somebody...

Isn't that exactly the kind of war you Victorians make an art of starting?

The only difference here is, your opponent is me alone.

Harold, you're a soldier.

And I—am your enemy.

...Ha-hah, and keenly put, Madam Degenbrecher.

But I don't believe for a second that you're blind to it.

Karlan Trade's private operations were ferreted out by the Trilby Ashers, and I don't think the Duke will rest on her laurels about it!

That—*cough*—is Enciodes's problem.

This is the <i>very last chance</i> they're leaving Master Enciodes!

He need only bend an ear to the Duke, he need only part with a sliver of the cake...

Be it just 30% of what we proposed! I could still take that back to the Duke and <i>try,</i> for heaven's sakes!

This was never even a war you needed to win...

How stupid.

Who do you say that as?

You're window dressing. You're a tourist. You're a burdenbeast vet.

Have you been at leisure for so long, you've begun to believe your own lies?

—No.

You've never forgotten who you are.

You hate war, absolutely.

You abandoned what real power was in your hands. You took what men of yours sympathized. You left the maelstrom far behind, and fled to Kjerag.

To a land where you thought war could never <i>really</i> happen.

But you were still a Victorian inside.

No.

It wasn't even something you had to remind yourself.

You might say that.

I am a Victorian soldier, Madam.

That much is ordained, and I might loathe it, and I might flee it.

But I could never sully Victoria's interests.

Good.

I'm the same.

Is she the same as this Victorian?

They don't seem very identical.

She's Leithanien-born, Kazimierz-raised, and only then came to Kjerag.

They don't need to know her name. All they know is she's born to fight solo, a victor of the knight competitions, the only one to ever win three years running.

Turn the clock further back, and she's a freak cut off from Originium Arts, a pariah in Leithanien.

Gaining and losing any of these things is dead simple.

They bore her to death.

But now, what she has isn't so easily lost, and she has no plans to lose them.

Now, they <i>are</i> the same.

This dull chat—*cough*—ends here.

I feel all too sorry for you, Madam Degenbrecher.

Oh, would that we hadn't come to this point. But if you wish it, then I choose to respect it.

I must stress at this closing hour that I am, through and through, your fan. The show you made in besting each opponent dazzled like nothing else.

This and this alone I ask you to believe. It cannot be lied.

Hah.

Noted.

It's my honor.

Riddled with scars, she raises her degenbrechers once more.

Just as she did in her first appearance before them all, Degenbrecher's point stabs into the ice.

The mist, constant over Lake Silberneherze, parts. A subdued, gargantuan rumble sinks in her enemies' stomachs.

Kchk. Kchk.

There comes the fine sound of cracking, and it's deafening.

Time to end this.

—! Order to all units!

Stop her breaking the ice! Regroup ASAP! Put down 'The Black Knight of Kazimierz'!

Nothing.

It's not in here.

Oh, and it's not here either.

Well, that just leaves...

Excuse me, sir, the train is speeding up! If you must wander, then please watch your step!

Oh, right, you haven't received your complimentary gift yet, have you? Can I ask what you'd like?

As compensation for your journey's delay, your purchase is completely free this time!

No need.

But, sir, it's a free gift...

Then I give this gift to you, madam.

Er, but, that's not...

Take it.

Now excuse me, if I could pass through?

A—Alright!

Thank you.

*huff*... *pant*...

Urp... oh, what in the land?

My legs are a little wobbly...

(Now, only the last cabin remains.)

(After all this time running around, I'm ragged.)

(I could retire... *sigh* Not when Londinium's still refinding its footing. Her Grace would never let me.)

(What will I find behind this door?)

(Their Kjerag Defense, hidden until this very moment, buried deeper than even their covert transport routes...)

(Whatever it is, it's a shame.)

It's a shame—Silverash will never get to meet his...

Huh?

What's up, panisko?

Sorry, we've got no seats left in our cabin. I think you want to try someplace else.

Uh, actually, I can just lea...

Did you need something, panisko?

I'm not kidding, we're full in here. I mean, you can see. We're bumping shoulders just trying to look around.

Yeah, that's why I'm saying I can absolutely just leave and find my own seat! I'm not kidding either!

You—You guys seriously don't gotta sit in a cab with me!

Don't be like that, Mr. Spokesman. You and us, we're invited together, aren't we? It was all one letter.

And this cabin, perfect amount of room for us all to sit. They look after you on the way too.

And with us around, the safety problem is no problem.

Safety's not my problem here, yeah, no...

I don't think it's 'perfect', is the thing?? You guys get to sit on the benches and I have to dump my butt on the table!

...Apologies, excuse me.

I see... I understand. I must be dreaming.

Kazimierz campaign knights and a KGCC representative spokesman sat in the same private cabin of a railway car...

So this is the defense Silverash plays.

How bold. How well and truly typical of the clan head's style.

Your Grace, I can't say it was for lack of trying...

But while duty might call me to fight a gaggle of campaign knights at once, I... think it's a little out of the question.

More than a little.

I guess your job's not easy either.

Stay calm.

Just passing through.

That uniform...

...This is quite the surprise party.

What is a Rhodes Islander doing here?

You'll have to ask my boss.

Et tu, Caster's lackey?;Any questions, Mr. Bellingham?

Quite the shocker indeed. I wasn't expecting you in the flesh.

But the funny thing is, weren't Rhodes Island and Kjerag only meant to be 'business partners'?

Yes, if there's one thing I can trust, it's my memory.

Many happy returns... 'Doctor'.

And we have a Rhodes Island Operator here? It seems the dossiers were right—we still haven't full stock of your company's many faces.

Still, that aside for now. No surprise could be more pleasant, meeting you here.

In all sincerity, I come with open arms this time. After all, I'm not even out of this disguise, and you recognize me by it.

Rhodes Island, you—

Yeesh, Doctor! A little help here!

Muelsyse!

Hmm? 'Sup?

Our stop's coming up! We gotta get the tech packed, Doc...

Oop? Who're you guys...?

Doctor, maybe we oughta bug the conductor to go a little faster...

Hey, it's you!

Rhodes Island and Columbia's Rhine Lab... well, well, well.

I see it's no coincidence you're all here, then.

Oh, jeez, I guess someone knows me already.

Doc, Mr. Sharp, Letobomb, aren't you gonna introduce this hatsy guy to me here?

Kjarr, I'd like to know. Would Kjeragandr bless the woman waging such a bloody battle for this statue?

Though she is born from other lands? Though in Kjeragandr, she has oh so little faith?

Heheh. That's a very easy question, Saintess.

The term 'Kjerag' simply means one who lives there, who adores this land, who finds a home in this nation.

It's no matter whether Kjeragandr recognizes it.

If a person identifies with it from the bottom of their heart, well, who can deny that?

Yes.

No one can deny that. Not even she, herself.

She is a Kjerag. She already was.

Kjarr, come with me to meet our visitors.

Our Victorian guests have come to partake in the ceremony. As Saintess, I have to make an adequate response.

At the very least, I can't go without saying hello.

I'd like to stress—the danger of this.

But... very well, Saintess.

Matriarch!

Sciurus is back!

She is?!

Some nerve being late... wait, no, I told her to keep out of this! Why did she come HERE?!

Who's saying I can't come?

And I didn't just come, I brought some special guests with me too!

Is this let's-bring-guests timing to you?

You make a language out of inane, you silly sister!

...I am NOT being silly.

Indeed. Madam Sciurus's hand is deft and wise. I find her admirable.

Ratatos, you'd do well to finally raise your opinion of her.

<i>...What the hell is this, Enciodes?</i>

Madam Sciurus, the guests have arrived safely.

Good! Bring them all in!

I'm out.

Master!

Your guests are here already!

Your who? These are MY guests I invited!

You're Madam Sciurus of the Browntail clan?

Very pleased you invited us to be part of this ceremony.

Sciurus... is this your <i>pleasant surprise?</i>

Uh, duh!

Let me introduce you all! We have here our campaign knight from the Adeptus Sprawiedliwi Kazimierz, here to celebrate the erection of our statue to Kjeragandr!

I sent an invitation especially to the Adeptus! That was NOT an easy invitation to make!

So they're MY guests!

It's just a coincidence, Madam Sciurus.

I cannot laud you enough that you were able to invite a campaign knight. My guest of honor, meanwhile, would be this fellow—

Welcome, Sir Spokesman of the General Chamber of Commerce.

Hello to you. I'm taking it you're Mr. Silverash?

Good to meetcha, good to meetcha, and hello from my company. Thank you for all the effort of inviting me out to Kjerag.

The scenery here in Kjerag, supremely beautiful. I believe your company and mine will absolutely end the day here with a partnership we both love.

Oh, and don't mind me but I gotta say, I think I saw some mad fight out on a frozen lake the whole way here?

And kind of familiar too, like, one guy. I mean, those combat moves, they rang bells in my head.

Oh sorry, excuse me if I'm talking too much?

It's, uh, a holdover from the old job. Ahem. Right, I'll be careful not to say too much that doesn't work towards us working together.

No, Mr. Mob, I'm in need of your exact talent right now.

Come again? You need...?

Yes.

Right now, this very moment.

Please, come with me. I'll have them cast sound amplification Arts.

May I ask you to loudly proclaim that—

Karlan Trade, and the corporations of the Kazimierz General Chamber of Commerce, are about to sign an agreement.

To Kazimierz, Kjerag will become a trusty partner.

...What's that noise?

It's not anyone splashing into the icewater, and it's not cries for help.

It sounds like someone loudly saying something, and then the people all about her stumble in disarray.

That loud voice. But whatever it's saying, she can't tell clearly.

Her field of view narrows and dims by a fraction more. The sounds almost turn to fuzz in her ears.

She can't feel her own limbs anymore, but she can be sure she still has a grip on her old companions.

Her degenbrechers.

Because she knows her body is still acting on reflex, striking down every person that comes near.

It's just... too loud.

Too loud. How can someone talk this noisily?

Why has the crowd gone?

Did someone breach her line of defense already?

No.

The wild beast's dulling eyes of gold suddenly flare alight.

—As long as she can stand.

—She will allow absolutely no one past!

...brecher! Madam Degenbrecher!

Stop fighting... Gah!

You've lost too much blood, Madam Degenbrecher! Come to your senses a little!

Aht-aht-aht, keep flailing at this rate and you'll sink us both in the lake!

We're not fighting?

No more fighting, no more!

Goodness, however much the Duke wants to slap Kjerag in the face, we can't be showing Kazimierz the hand in the process... at least not now.

Kept between Victoria and Kjerag, one might still call it the Duke's personal Silverash grievances. But the moment you bring Kazimierz into it too, things become far, far less simple.

Are the gourmands of Kazimierz already inviting Karlan Trade to the table? With such distance between them, and in such short order?

What a talented young individual.

And I know the Duke won't reproach me for deciding to stay my hand. Spiffing excuse.

A good half my men you batted into the lake, Madam Degenbrecher. It was a backbreaker to scoop them out again...

If we'd kept going like that, I'd need another pair of arms to treat you all!

I say you need them as is. *cough*

I take no criticism from anyone still hacking up blood.

...We're done?

Well and truly done.

Okay.

Enciodes pulled it off.

She did what she needed to.

That's all Degenbrecher hears.

Now, Madam, stop there!

The lives we live, they always tend to be out of our hands.

I wanted to retire eons ago myself, but I have to keep my own men, my all too often down-and-out brothers in mind.

With this, it finally ought to be my turn for once, hm?

And in light of the fact your faithful fan's been beaten black and blue...

Could you give me your autograph?

...You're still in the mood for that?

This card... heh.

Do tell?

The first time I won the Major, they wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed to a photoshoot.

After that, I never agreed to another one. They were too boring for me.

I see. No wonder The Black Knight's knight trumps always come in those same poses, edition after edition.

Degenbrecher accepts the pen Harold holds out to her, and writes her name—'Degenbrecher'.

Take it.

You'd better not have anything else for me to sign.

Ah, Madam, where are you going?

Do you need some quick treatment? My first aid's excellent, you know.

Degenbrecher lifts her head to look to the dawn.

In the distance, two figures walk, approaching her. She still can't make them out, but she knows who they are.

It's like Kjeragandr on high is gazing down on her, someplace as high as the sun.

No need.

I'm going back.

There's people waiting for me.