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(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.

Lend me your comms terminal there.

Looks to me like you really are off the deep end. You're just going to trot on out of our base's deepest parts? With nothing but a knife?

Stay put! You're going to jump out the window, aren't you? Like I'll let you—

Did the Regent... finally agree to meet me?

Yes. They all have surely witnessed Dublinn's might now... even if both we and they are well aware, Dublinn and the Sarkaz Royal Court cannot truly ally.

Hmph. Obviously, The Leader's had this planned well in advance—

—What's that noise?!

Is there a raid? But the Sarkaz wouldn't... I mean, their Lord agreed to treat Dublinn like guests!

Wait, is it the Victorian Army out of their depth again?

No, no, no, they've got barely any left alive. Why would they provoke us by themselves? And Londinium's top people might've never even witnessed Dublinn's fires before...

Beautiful Arts... May you sleep peacefully within your own blast.

I heard everything you said. From the very first joke you made about them, I was intent on making sure you'd never open your mouth again.

But you're right, I might not be completely sane at this point. Nor do I know if reopening my scars again and again is clearing my mind at all... or if it's plunging me even deeper.

Wh-What's going on? The whole floor...

There was an explosion inside the building!

Send a team in to rescue! I'll report to the Captain!

(Surrounding patrols have been drawn to the explosion site, all as projected.)

Now, this is an assignment... with only one person taking part.

The plan of action, escape from here.

The backup plan, put my life on the line against Dublinn.

An assignment I won't fail no matter what. Now there's a reassuring thing.

—2nd Tempest Platoon Leader Horn, commencing.

Captain Mandragora, reporting in!

There's been an explosion at the old tobacco factory! Apparent cause was dust buildup in the ventilation!

What's to panic about? Is that beyond you lot to handle? I thought you'd seen plenty of explosions at this point.

No... Captain. You probably remember, but that Victorian soldier was being held there too.

She died?

Er, the soldiers we sent to rescue at the scene found she'd, seemingly... escaped.

Useless... bloody, useless, idiots!

And you told me she went mad? I KNEW she was faking it... She'd never be broken so easily!

I just knew it... The Sarkaz wouldn't treat us as an enemy, Londinium's army won't have known to mind us yet... It has to be her. She's the only one who'd pull an attack on us!

Hmph. Where's she think she can run to, though?

...3rd Squad, blockade around the warehouse...

Call Walter... Wasn't he the one on guard today? 7th Squad, send two people to search for Walter at the explosion site...

She can't have gone beyond this block in this short a time...

Completely right.

With a blockade and sweep like this, I've got nowhere to flee.

Who's there?

No, there's no one else here. Those footsteps are from the other side of the wall. A few Dublinn fighters who haven't seen me yet.

(But someone's been watching this place the whole time.)

She left tracks. Most likely she went towards the food processing plant.

Don't let her hide in there! Shut all the doors!

That's untimely.

Walter's dead.

And his comms terminal. It's been taken too.

Deactivate all clearance for the guard team's comms!

Terminal's gone silent. They're on full alert.

Over there! Someone's climbed up! The searchlights!

We'll come for her from the roof! Set up crossbows around the sides!

Hold on...

The factory door's... open?

Reporting in. Situation normal on this end.

The entrance—the bloody entrance—didn't we just shut—

Urgh—

Seems it wasn't negligence on Dublinn's part. Someone else opened this door.

The soldier dodges behind a wall, vigilantly scanning all around her. The damp factory air is silent as a throat gripped shut, not a hint of movement to be felt.

Like someone has cut the wind away altogether.

This isn't her first time sensing that peculiar gaze. In that claustrophobically cramped room, her nerves on high alert had picked something up too.

You there, watching me, who are you?

No voice replies. Only the scent of Originium Arts that flit past the entrance just now convinces her someone else is here.

(—No, they're watching the entirety of Dublinn.)

(Is it a Sarkaz? The will of the occupant upon the throne, surveying the bedlam of Londinium?)

The entrance is open!

I found her! She's in there!

(One squad of soldiers, coming down from upstairs. The door to this safe passage is about to be broken through.)

(At least three crossbows are aimed at the platform outside this window.)

(But there's countless tubes and containers here. I can bide my time and hide for a while. I have more patience than these Dublinn soldiers.)

(And Dublinn's been allowing this factory to operate normally so they can restock their fighters' daily supplies.)

(Which means this factory should have an exit that gets used at fixed times... leading to a logistics transport way in the sublayer. I can look for an opportunity to open it.)

As she puts together her escape plan, she catches the sound of the gateway slowly creaking open, coming from below.

I thank you... unshowing stranger.

The soldier's hidden right in here?

Where are you? Where do you think you're running? Your Army's gone from existence, toy soldier!

You won't make it even one step out of this bloody Sudean place.

You show your head in any controlled district, and those devils'll make Arts skewers out of you on their blades.

Come out. I've got your best interests at heart.

You go out there, and you'll see just how much more bloody miserable it ends for the Victorian soldiers who don't listen. It gets worse than what happened to your little squad of friends, you bloody believe me.

You...

Creeping along the shadows towards the transport way, Horn suddenly stops in her tracks. Dublinn's Caster stands with her back to Horn, right there under the corridor lights.

In her hand, Horn clutches a rapier stolen from the side of a Dublinn soldier. If the Feline activates her own Arts in time, then the instant Horn thrusts, her fragile sword will shatter against rock.

But if the Caster doesn't react in time—

As Horn is gripping her sword, Mandragora turns and faces in her direction.

March 28th

I had the same dream again. I was running through the drainage layer, echoes chasing my footsteps in the dark. I dreamt again and again of the murdered soldiers, so many of whom were tortured beyond recognition. It's near-impossible for me to relay to those who loved them the circumstances in which they left this mortal coil. But the most frightening thing is... inside my head, bit by bit, their faces are blurring.

It's at these times that I'm glad for this memorandum. I can look back page by page, read their names, and copy them again letter by letter.

I've dreamt of taking my revenge too, but every time I charge at Dublinn, or the Sarkaz crowd, I wake up with a start, like now. I often can't help but wonder, if I'd run Dublinn's Caster through that day, how things would've turned out—whether I would feel freed, no matter what the case may be... but for my sanity, I have to stop such thoughts then and there.

Closing my eyes to rest has become a form of duty, and so has living.

Faced with Londinium in this state, and even Victoria as a whole, I have no idea what else I can do aside from fight what battles lay in front of me, but I still—I have to hold onto hope, even if it takes all I have just to stand here.

Lieutenant, you're awake.

I am. I just came to. Good timing; it's almost time to relieve the guard on duty. What is it?

No... I just couldn't asleep, and I saw you had a candle lit here by chance.

—Sorry, did I interrupt you while you were notetaking?

It's alright, it wasn't anything too important.

Ah, that's a relief.

Lieutenant, have I ever mentioned before? I used to live in Sudean, in a little alley behind a textiles factory.

Our family had a habit of leaving a candle lit on the windowsill that faced out, since there was no light in the alley, and they wanted to let whoever got off work at night see as they went.

Thanks to your candle, I felt for a moment like... things weren't so gloomy after all.

In previous times, I would've said reminiscence was no good thing.

But now, I think there's only a clinging onto the state Victoria should be in, the lives the Londiniers should have, that lets us fight on in the city's darker corners.

Though it's a bit of an unrealistic ideal. Hah.

It's not. We believe in you, Lieutenant.

Victoria's servicemen won't fall so easily... and neither will Victoria's citizens.

But we are worried for you, too.

What's to worry for?

You might not be willing to tell us much, but we're all soldiers. Things have affected us in all sorts of similar ways, surely.

I'll stand guard for you tonight. You get a little more rest.