Orlando stood at the entrance of the Red Sun Corps stronghold, hanging the iron short sword Hui had given him at his waist.
The feel of the hilt was different from a wooden sword—
Heavier, colder.
When he gripped it, his palm instinctively tightened.
He patted the hilt to make sure it wouldn’t fall off.
“So, Hui. You’re my partner today?”
“Yes.”
Hui stood beside him, the sleeves of his dark coat rolled up to his elbows, revealing two well-defined forearms.
His half-black, half-white hair was sharply divided in the morning light.
His hands held nothing.
“Then… this time…”
“Come with me to investigate outside the city.”
Orlando’s mouth twitched.
“No. I’m a wanted criminal, aren’t I?”
The city gate had a wanted poster plastered on it—
An oval head, mismatched eyes, a stupid smile.
The military police were checking each person leaving the city with the portrait.
Last time, he almost got exposed at the gate, almost turned into Olivia, and was rescued from an alley by Hui.
“Sir, I know that.”
Hui’s voice had no inflection.
“I specifically kept a secret passage.”
The sewers of Rantesti City were cleaner than Orlando had imagined.
Not the kind of clean you could swim in, but the kind where you wouldn’t step on anything strange.
Hui walked ahead, holding an oil lamp.
The flame flickered slightly in the damp air, casting the shadows of the two onto the curved brick walls, stretching them long and short.
Footsteps echoed and overlapped under the vaulted ceiling.
The secret passage exit was behind a patch of bushes outside the city.
When Orlando climbed out of the opening, a dead leaf stuck to his hair.
He plucked it off, dusted his hands, and turned around, about to say, “This passage is pretty well-hidden.”
Hui was gone.
The bushes swayed gently in the wind.
Dark green moss grew on the city wall, and a few fallen leaves floated on the moat’s surface.
At the distant city gate, the military police were still checking people leaving.
Hui was not behind him, not in the bushes.
Orlando stood still, his hand pressing on the hilt of the iron short sword at his waist.
Then he let go.
Hui had never made a sound when walking.
It had been that way since the first day he met him.
He’d suddenly appear behind him in an alley, stand silently at the door in the corridor, sit in the corner of the cafeteria with a glass of plain water—
Always arriving before anyone else, always leaving after.
Hui didn’t need his worry.
He unstrapped the short sword from his waist and held it in his hand.
The iron hilt slowly grew warm in his palm.
‘But now… if I go to that ruin, there should be a chance. North of the sky dome—the clue Victoria gave.’
‘The thing the Winter Night Church is looking for—the Urske sent the Shishouzhe to snatch it.’
‘He was now outside the city, armed, with no one following. Hui wasn’t there. Prunier wasn’t there. Wei wasn’t there.’
‘No one would stop him.’
‘Now’s the perfect time!!!’
He stuck the short sword back at his waist and headed north.
Hui sat on a tree branch, back against the trunk, his heterochromatic eyes watching as Orlando’s figure grew smaller and smaller, disappearing behind the ridge of the hills.
The oil lamp had gone out, hanging at his waist, the wick still holding a trace of warmth.
City Lord’s Mansion.
The Urske diplomat stood in the center of the reception hall.
He wore a dark gray uniform, a double-headed eagle badge of the Tsar pinned to his collar, his hat brim pulled low.
Behind him stood two Urske soldiers—
Black fur hats, black uniforms, goggles covering their eyes, masks covering the lower halves of their faces.
Von Brunswick sat in a high-backed chair, one leg crossed over the other.
He held a cup of black tea, a slice of lemon floating on the surface.
He didn’t drink, just held it.
The diplomat’s voice wasn’t loud, but every word seemed scraped out of an ice cellar.
“The Grand Duke needs to know some things. The explosion at the underground tavern. Eight Urske citizens dead. The second son of the Vishkov family. And the deaths at the church—two Urske soldiers, one Winter Night Church instructor. Three lives.”
Von set down the teacup.
The porcelain made a soft clink against the marble tabletop.
“I am a member of the Royal Dragon-Slaying Squad, under the Eldron Empire. When Urske citizens die within Eldron territory, you should go to the Imperial Gendarmerie, or the City Lord.”
“The City Lord is not here.”
“Where did he go?”
“He left this city.”
The reception hall was silent for a moment.
Von’s fingers tapped twice on the armrest.
‘That fat bastard. Said he’d definitely give the Grand Duke and his guards an explanation, then turned around and ran. Three chins, full forehead sweat, a handkerchief with his name initials. He ran pretty fast.’
“So.”
The diplomat’s voice came from under the brim.
“Lord Brunswick. The Grand Duke needs an explanation. His Majesty the Tsar also needs an explanation.”
Von picked up the black tea, took a sip.
The lemon’s sourness exploded on his tongue.
He set the cup down.
“It was all done by a man named Orlando. Orlando Dellfort. Former member of the Royal Dragon-Slaying Squad, guilty of treason and collusion two years ago, now wanted by the empire. The explosion at the underground tavern—that was him. The murders at the church—that was him. The murderer you Urske are looking for—that’s him.”
‘Might as well pin all these crimes on his former teammate and use the Urske to eliminate him.’
The diplomat was silent for a moment.
In the shadow under his hat brim, his expression was unreadable.
“Orlando Dellfort.”
“An imperial wanted criminal. Lord Brunswick, what evidence do you have?”
“I’m the one who issued the wanted order.”
Von stood up.
The high-backed chair slid back half an inch, its legs screeching against the marble floor.
He walked up to the diplomat and looked down at him.
“I’ll go with you to capture Orlando. That way, you Urske have your explanation for the Grand Duke and the Tsar, and we Eldron have our explanation for the Emperor. How about it?”
The diplomat looked up.
Under the hat brim, the corner of his mouth slowly curled up.
“Agreed.”