story_puzzle_1_1

Crown Grove Primary School, rebuilt postwar Londinium, 1099

Welcome back to school, students and teachers alike. The war couldn't take you, which can only mean you're stronger for it. Now, get stuck in! You're the ones who'll bring the shine back to Victoria!

Susan! Laura! Reeves! Cor, I never thought I'd see any of you again! Go on, get your arms around me, I can take it!

Billy? You get in here too! Stop sitting in the corner with your paper, <i>Granddad!</i>

We put a clear date on the start of term announcement, and the name of the school is right there front and center... Could he have not seen it...?

What are you just mumbling for?

Forget that actually, anyone see Mr. Conrad? He's always bang on time; now lessons are going to start without him. Is he lost?

Ahem. Nice to meet you, children. I'm Ms. Louise, and I'll be your new teacher.

Ms. Louise? What happened to Mr. Conrad?

Erm... sorry, I've not heard of anyone by that name.

Yeah you have! Mr. Conrad, spelt like C-O-N... R-A-D. No flipping way he'd abandon us, ever.

He said he wasn't like the rest of our subs, he was gonna stick around.

I'm... fairly aware of what happened here. If I'm right, most of your teachers weren't willing to stay when the Sarkaz locked this area down.

But things aren't like that now, and I'm thrilled to say I'll be with you all for a long time to come. Erm, hello there, is something the matter?

(Heaves silent sobs)

He's fine with you, Miss. It's just, Mr. Conrad was a really nice teacher to him. And actually, the whole class as well. But he thought he'd be coming back and he didn't.

I knocked on the staff room just now and there's no trace of him anywhere, not even on the blackboard with the big teacher's timetable...

They printed about term starting in the newspaper and everything, and he still didn't show up...

Oh... I see. Then maybe I could get to know you all better by hearing about this Mr. Conrad. Can someone put up their hand and tell me what kind of person he is?

He LOVES being on time. And he's, like, grim-looking, but mad funny as well? Stop laughing at me, you know what I mean, right? He always tells jokes with a dead serious face.

He can twirl knives! And his lessons are super sick!

...He won't... keep a promise... *sob*...

Londinium, spring of 1098

You'll be bringing 'Engineer' back to us this time. At the moment, he's trapped within the Sarkaz blockade. We suspect he's still undercover.

His son, Billy, attends Crown Grove Primary. Which this says is still holding lessons as of now.

Everyone in that blockade is their neighbor's neighbor. If I'm going to make contact with the target, posing as his son's teacher won't be liable to rouse suspicion. Prepare me the appropriate identity, please.

We do have one teacher identity still unused. Name of... Ian Conrad. That said—

Do you have any experience with children? Year 3 students can be harder to cope with than the devils at times. Be warned.

My MO is to avoid groups specialized in sowing chaos any way I can, but I can assure you, this is my job, and I'll be amply rehearsed.

I trust you can do it. Side note—the place is on a knife's edge. The moment you retrieve the target, you pull out of there immediately.

Understood.

The one and only target Fischer needs to watch, Billy, is sat quietly in a corner, nibbling away at his fingernails with gusto. This does not, however, suffice to ignore the nineteen other bombs going off in the classroom right now.

Let's bet how long until the new Sir does a runner. Ten pence says he's gone tomorrow!

Oi, dumbarse! Stop using my notes in your catapult!

I've got a stink bug; who's brave enough to drop it on a devil's head? Open the hatch—STINKBOMB! Wrmmm—

Settle down, class. Attention please.

Nice try, Sir, who are you anyway? We've had loads of teachers quit before you. Why don't you get out of here now?

Hello, Selene. I don't plan to quit, but your head did just warn me that if your class keeps kicking up such a fuss, my position will be untenable.

Tha... That's just 'cuz you haven't been duffed by one of those drunk devils yet.

Oi... this is barmy, he knows your name! Are you two tight or something?

This is our first time meeting, Madeline.

Watch out, Mr. Whatever! ...Cor, did you just catch that? That was a catapult! Fair dos.

Oi, give it back though, that's my note. You're not allowed to read what's in it.

What you and Danny are discussing about me doesn't interest me, but I can answer your questions. My dagger is the real thing, and no comment on how far I can chuck it.

How come you knew...

Your eyes, movements, and even the words you're mouthing are undisguised. Gathering that information wasn't hard. If needed, I can say out loud what each and every person in the class is talking about right now.

Oh? You're all very quiet, now that I mention that. Wary, too.

I almost forgot that when I was in school, I hated my teachers scrutinizing everything about me too. So, it's crucial you learn how to hide things—

Eh? I wasn't... holding this note before?

To pass messages along under the enemy's nose, first you must shift their attention, like I did just now.

I—I missed that! Do it again!

Has he got magic hands?!

Magic has nothing to do with it. You can do it too, Billy.

Me? I...

Sir, why do you care about him so much? He's thick, he is.

Unfortunately, Madeline, you could do with better observation.

...*clears throat*.

I noticed that out of everyone here, Billy has the most nimble hand muscles by far, plus a level personality. He makes for the ideal operative.

Billy looks up at Mr. Conrad. In the teacher's gaze, he sees certainty, encouragement... or perhaps, it's probing him.

Uncertain of himself, he kneads at the newfound slip of paper. Fischer approaches him, and with a gentle hand, high-fives him.

And now it's in my hand. See, I told you you could do it.

(Excited gasp)

Oi, Mr. Whatever—teach us some more! We promise we'll properly learn, right, everyone?

Ian Conrad.

None of this is in your curriculum, but if it'll get you to calm down...

Mm, no, the blockade being as it is, we can call this applied science.

Anyone interested, follow me outside to the playground.

Mr. Conrad...

Billy, please follow close to the other students.

Alright, let's walk together then.

Okay! My privilege, Mr. Conrad.

Another way to pass on information is using markers—a form of codeword only you and your compatriots will know the meaning of. You're familiar with the TV approach of drawing arrows on walls, which is the classical simpleton's method.

Your markers, on the other hand, should be founded in using the everyday objects that surround you, arranging them into forms only allies will take note of.

As an example, create a triangle out of three stones, then just slightly adjust them, in such a way they could've naturally fallen like that.

Now, all of you try. But be careful not to leave the playground.

Mr. Conrad! Look at my super-duper unsuspicious leaf triangle!

You'll have to ask the weather not to be windy first, if you're going to use leaves.

Hahahaha! ...You're joking, right? Why aren't you laughing?

Mr. Conrad, Mr. Conrad!

Look, check out my big tire triangle, it beats the pants off theirs!

Hey, Mr. Conrad, my marker's way easier to tell than his, innit?

Sir, Leon stole my marker!

Mr. Conrad? Did I do my marker right?

Mr. Conrad, Billy snuck out the wire fence! There's—there's devils outside!

Everyone, back to the classroom now. Selene, fetch the head.

Gosh, Billy, you left the safe zone? Don't you remember how strict they were about teaching the safe zone rules? Why did you do that?

Okay, what happened next?

...I got Mr. Conrad beaten up.

He helped me up from the devils, and tried to negotiate with them, to get me away from them, but they...

Your voice is shaking. It's okay, if it hurts too much to remember, you don't have to.

I'm not scared of them now, I'm not anymore... Next the head came, 'cause the head knew the boss of those devils, and then they had to let me go even though they didn't want to...

Now you mention, we started getting on with Mr. Conrad all proper-like after that!

'Cause he was like a massive hero to us, bringing Billy back.

Yeah, yeah... We told him he can't quit like all the others, and we gave him a lifetime pass to all our kids' parties! 'Cause normally we have an age limit!

And he promised us, he did...

I won't leave you before my work is done.

Londinium, spring of 1098

Two Victorians stand in the shade on the side of the street, not a hair out of place, their chat so unassuming they could just as well have been a parent and teacher.

Mr. Conrad, Billy tells me you saved him from that mishap the other day. Said the only thing Sir asked of him afterwards was if he could meet me. Had me baffled at first. Nice to meet someone from the 'union.'

Allow me to give you my sincerest thanks.

But if your mission's to extract me from here—read that right, didn't I? Then I've other plans, sorry.

Billy can come with you.

Why do you think those devils are specifically letting a school still open its doors?

Because children make the best hostages. And pulling them all out of here is beyond my power.

Pass this on to the Duke of Caster if you would: The Sarkaz still don't know who I am; I'm just an ordinary engineer to them, and I've not flipped sides. I'm just choosing to stay.

If your orders are to silence me if you can't extract me, odds are I won't stand for that either—I've spent too long stewing here as is!

Calm down. There's no need for us to come to blows in the enemy's quarters. Think about Billy—

Pssh. Let me look: what are you, twenty? Thirty? I've been plying this trade much longer than you. You may as well be reading me Verbal Manipulation for Dummies.

In fact, none of your 'branch's' methods are safe from me. Extending the extraction plans to Billy is stretching your charity to the limit. You can't afford greater faff than that, not with your standing.

You think you know how it turns out for the spies they catch. I <i>know</i> I know. So I'm not going to be asking too much of you.

Leave it for now. We talk about this any longer and they'll start wondering.

...One thing, actually, because I'm curious. Billy won't open up to me why he left the safe zone that time, and that's not like him. He's always been the kind who likes to mind the rules.

We were in the middle of practicing how to leave markers. I'm a subpar teacher; the most I can do is impart on them what I know best.

...That explains it. He's taken to you. He's a piece of cake to you, relatively speaking, isn't he? One glance and you could tell your target was a boy in need of validation—just give it to him, and he'd latch right on.

I don't mean to pick bones with the job you do, I just want to tell you, the last thing my son is is troublemaking. He only wanted to try tailing the real enemy, make himself seem useful to you, leave a lasting impression on you.

Do you plan to follow me forever, Billy? You're free to practice leaving markers on your own.

...I was wondering if you need helping out, Mr. Conrad. My dad always says I'm good with helping out.

No rush, you can ask me again once you're more practiced.

Mr. Conrad, can you maybe not go after all; could you forget about quitting? Can you—can you stay with us, all the time?

I won't leave you before my work is done.

Leave the blockade, go on. Your job's done.

Please, stick to the evacuation as planned. People will be there to pick you up. As for your son...

There are some things a father can't do that a teacher can.

Reporting in, safe zone exit is all clear.

Good. Now, get into two lines side-by-side, and hold hands with the person next to you. The two in front, keep close to me, and don't move one step away.

We're opting for a route with no lights, no human activity, and no chance the Sarkaz would take it themselves.

We'll be crossing the Sarkaz encampment, but they won't notice us. You've all done tremendously well in my class, after all. Nobody will hear your footsteps.

Finally, there's a hole in their net that we'll slip the blockade through, until the enemy siege is behind us.

Do you remember how to count?

Absolute focus, watch my feet. Every ten steps, count up one—count it in my head.

Once we've counted to a thousand, we've made it.

Then we're off.

One... two... three... four...

Fifty-one... fifty-two... fifty-three...

Two-hundred-and... thirty-three... two-hundred-and... thirty-four... two-hundred-and... thirty-five...

(Ungh!)

(Stop.)

Nothing happens. No one notices the noise here.

(Can you get up? Should I carry you?)

(I'm fine.)

(Back onward.)

Five-hundred-and... sixty-seven... five-hundred-and... sixty-eight... five-hundred-and... sixty-nine...

While weaving over wreckage, they lose their footing in a foul rubbish tip, sending startled musbeasts scattering in all directions. They don't let their lips open a peep, however, not daring to make a sound.

What was that noise? I heard some kind of stunt over there!

(Shh.)

*Sarkaz profanity*! It's musbeasts! The hell did this many come from?!

This is why I friggin' warned you about leaving your trash in the camp! I had ONE good pair of pants and goddamn musbeasts gnawed a hole in it!

(Go.)

*huff*... *huff*...

(We're far enough now; it's relatively deserted out here. You can let out your breath a little, but we still can't afford to relax.)

(Let's see how many we are. Line up, everyone.)

(Are all of you doing alright?)

(Laura can't walk anymore.)

(It's freezing, Mr. Conrad.)

(I want to go home... I miss Mum and Dad...)

(How far is it? Is it much longer?)

(Not far now. Just be brave.)

(Alright. Let's go.)

(Mr. Conrad, can we sing a song while we walk? We've been walking forever, some of us are losing it.)

(We can't.)

(But we're dying.)

(Just a little longer.)

(...Then can we hold onto your hands, Mr. Conrad?)

(...Very well, then.)

(There's a little bell on my little matchbox—ring-a-ling-a-ling, and a beep-beep-boo—)

(...Shh.)

(See, no one can hear us when we're this quiet, and we can walk for miles more.)

(Off to the fair in my little matchbox—ring-a-ling-a-ling and a beep-beep-boo—)

(Park my little matchbox full in the boot—what have you got there, can I take a look?—ring-a-ling-a-ling and a beep-beep-boo—)

The schoolchildren's song works a strange magic in the midst of the night. As more and more students join in, a few hums and mumbles turn into a whole chorus of hushes.

(Steady as she goes—it's like pea soup—ring-a-ling-a-ling and a beep-beep-boo—)

(Hee-hee... ha-ha-ha...)

(Mr. Conrad, you know, the tune is really smashing for this song, it's like ba-bang, ba-bang! It's really sad you don't get to hear. I could start singing it out loud any moment—)

(...Once you're safe, you'll have the chance. Then you can sing it as loud as you want.)

Mission target, and twenty children, delivered.

...Fischer, you could give me ten tries with my eyes closed and I'd still never guess you would fly in the face of reason like this.

Once I'd run the calculations and ruled out what risks I could, this was the optimum choice, and all their guardians gave permission. I also left their guardians to organize any follow-up action on their own, because I am no longer involved.

And you don't get to be. I have your next assignment right here.

All particulars regarding Ian Conrad have been dealt with in the proper manner. Mission complete.

Now, I'll be getting my head-start. I leave the tying-up to you.

Mr. Conrad! Mr. Conrad, where are you? We can sing that song for you now!

I know how it goes after that. Once you left, a resistance movement erupted inside the blockade.

Which drove out the Sarkaz, but it's still very, very hard to call it a success. We can't ignore the sacrifices we made...

But when all hell broke loose, at least the damage here was as little as it could've been.

Still, I couldn't help noticing when you said twenty children were led to safety—is there a reason I'm only counting...

Look out there! The leaf pile outside the window, I'm not seeing things, right? I was staring off at it just before and now the shape's all different!

You can see the shape of the wind in the autumn leaves. You've got very sharp eyes to notice the way they fall.

No, it's him! I knew he'd come back!

The students spring to their feet one after another, half of them squeezing through the door, half choosing to climb straight through the window.

Bugger... I got all worked up for nothing, he's not anywhere here...

I can't find any other markers. You're joking me... was I really seeing things?

Oh, fudge, the wind! Now there's definitely no marker...

He promised not to quit, didn't he? He promised!

...He's not the only one to abandon us.

*sigh*...

...Wait, you lot, look where the leaves were, that's those three stones he demonstrated with once!

MR. CONRAD—MR. CONRAD? Did he just come by and then do a runner again?

♪There's a little bell on my little matchbox... ♪Ring-a-ling-a-ling and a beep-beep-boo...

Oi, what are you up to, Billy?

♪Off to the fair in my little matchbox~ ♪Ring-a-ling-a-ling and a beep-beep-boo...

*sigh*. He's not gonna hear you like that.

(Takes a deep breath) ♪PARK MY LITTLE MATCHBOX FULL IN THE BOOT! ♪WHAT HAVE YOU GOT THERE, CAN I TAKE A LOOK!!! ♪RING-A-LING-A-LING, and a BEEP-BEEP-BOO!!!

We'll help out!

♪Steady as she goes— ♪It's like pea soup— ♪Ring-a-ling-a-ling and a beep-beep-boo—

♪Steady as she goes, steady as she goes— ♪Then my matchbox tumbles and over she goes— ♪With a big old flip and a bing-bang-boo—

*chuckle*... I see. What a lovely little tune.

A good fit for today's Londinium.

Fischer takes a seat on a bench in the square. The children's song drifts guilelessly through the air from parts he can't set foot near, and he listens, and he takes in the sight of a rebuilt Londinium. This time, he's in no hurry to leave.