As soon as the military carriage stopped and the armored vilecross released its chains, a soldier opened the door and saluted General Zephyr, the first to disembark, with a hand on his chest and his head bowed. He was accompanied by two healers dressed in white, their faces veiled and who also imitated the respectful greeting.
All while resisting the urge to puke as the bloody human remains stuck to the wheels started to spread their decaying scent.
“News from the North?”
“Technician Grisha-Bell is attempting to establish communication with the outpost, General.”
“Perfect. Aside from the gunslinger, the young woman in black, and the aracross, there are people inside who need medical attention. I’ll leave you in charge of that.”
“Yes, General!”
Zephyr hurried off toward the camp supervisor, who was taking notes on an over-saturated clipboard, leaving Tristessa, Auron, and Vergil alone. They got out and found the camp almost deserted. Nearly all forces had been mobilized south to assist in collecting the bodies of the dead, leaving only a dozen reservists whose primary task was to patrol the area around the tents.
What happened at the Unar outpost was going to set a precedent for the fight against the Coven: not even kidnapped Imperial citizens should be trusted, as sadly as that sounds. And judging by Zephyr's cold eyes as she surveyed the emptying of the camp from one end to the other, it seemed the policy was going to be kill first, ask questions later…
“Graa!”
Vergil roared with excitement and trotted toward a group of people sitting in a circle around a campfire. Healers were surrounding them; veiled women casting and reinforcing halos of healing glyphs and applied herbal ointments to wounds that had already been stitched and required more bandages later to finish the procedure.
“Hey, since when are you so friendly? I see Miss Tristessa’s company was more than effective!” asked one of the wounded—a woman wearing a kettle-style helmet who didn’t look like she was going to take it off anytime soon.
Vergil hadn’t had a chance to greet his old acquaintances when they were barely emerging from the trance induced by much-needed thaumaturgy. Now, there was nothing that prevented him from making the woman a victim of his deadly licks, while her companions stared with tired smiles.
“Go with them, lady,” Tristessa heard Auron whisper near her right ear. Distracted, she saw him putting on his hat and dusting off his jacket covered with infinitesimal drops of dried blood. “I’ll go see if Miss Hilda needs help establishing contact with the northern outpost.”
“Oh my. You like female engineers, huh, Auron?” she mocked, not finding the gunslinger amused. “Come on, it’s a joke. You don’t have to be so bitter.”
“Yes, you’re right. I’m not good with that kind of humor, you know? I guess it’s something I must change…”
With that said, Auron walked away toward the tent housing the telecommunications equipment. With one hand in his pocket, presumably to feel the ticking of his pocket watch, Tristessa guessed. That container with the photo of that [Melinda] woman…
“Miss Tristessa! Aren’t you coming to say hello?”
Hands rising in the air and a shout, beckoning her to the campfire. Of course, Tristessa didn't hesitate for a second.
“Still a weakling...? AGH!”
“I'm glad you're alright, Tris... AHH, STOP!”
“How wonderful is to see you all!” Tristessa had lunged at Dom Ugaran and Lufreya Solsong, embracing them both at once and nearly sending all three tumbling into the precarious gap between the felled tree trunks that served as seats and the edge of the campfire.
Without their armor and wearing only linen shirts to replace their tattered and bloodied uniforms, the two mercenaries felt the girl's affection with agonizing tenderness. A double embrace that, under any other circumstances, wouldn't have even tickled them. But now, having been slashed, stabbed, struck by impact, and victims of elemental and non-elemental thaumaturgy, their brittle bones and softened muscles ached like burning hells, unable to withstand the pressure of those weak arms of hers.
“Miss, stop at once! You’ll reopen their wounds!” one of the healers scolded Tristessa, making her notice the grimaces of pain on the mercenaries’ faces.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” she apologized, laughing awkwardly as Dom and Lufreya recovered. Across the campfire, surrounded by healing glyphs, Melian watched with a wistful smile; her bloodshot left eye and the other covered by a bandage conveyed the bittersweet feelings of memories. “How are you feeling, Melian?”
“Aren’t you going to hug me? You’re breaking my heart, you know?”
“W-well, I…”
“I was just kidding, relax. I’m not even in any condition to be touched…” The thaumaturge with disheveled black hair, without his wand and in the same precarious state as his companions, had to place his hands on his thighs for support. As if the weight of his own body were unbearable, gravity aching him to the bone. “Sigh… I never felt that a spell could kill me like the one I used to give our spiritual energies to the boss.”
“It seems everyone did their best to fulfill Madame Luchie’s wishes… Thank you, everyone.” Tristessa sat down on one of the logs, and Vergil sat on his hind legs beside her. Asking his new owner for back rubs which she granted right away. “Seriously, I have no words to thank you enough.”
“It’s our job, Miss Discord.” Somewhat recovered from the deadly embrace, Lufreya gave a military salute as one of the healers placed her magic catalyst on her back, generating the last healing glyphs above her. “Tell us… About Bran, is he…?”
“He’s alive. Badly wounded, recovering at the Company headquarters in the city.” Tristessa’s news brought a wave of relief to the three mercenaries. They could breathe easier now, one worry lifted from their shoulders. Only one mystery remained. “I hope Madame Luchie is alright.”
“She’s strong. No witch will kill her,” Dom said, his confidence fading for a moment, as something in the periphery of his vision caught his attention, shattering what little calm he had managed to muster. “Boss…”
All eyes shifted toward the military carriage: a pair of healers had brought in a stretcher to carry Reiden, whom they had lifted from the carriage with Jin’s help. The women who were finishing treating the mercenaries were forced to go and assist their colleagues, and four of them carried Reiden to the tent dedicated exclusively to the wounded. With some urgency, given by the rapid instructions shouted by the head healer near the entrance.
The Mercer-Archeos also headed toward that temporary healing house. They were viewed with suspicion by the superior, but she didn't stop them. It seemed the right to health was a proclamation in honor of the Goddess Xiliarra, obeyed to the letter, even for the condemned like that family.
“Can we go see him?”
“I don't think so, Lu… The old woman who leads the healers is frightening; didn't you see her face?” Melian asked, glancing over his shoulder and toward the tent, with certain discretion. “She almost killed me when I told her about soul exponentiation.”
“And rightly so. What you did was almost suicidal… But it was necessary to hide from the Coven; otherwise, the boss would never have been able to use his Divinity like that for so long,” the woman admitted. Her head bowed, the shadow cast by her kettle-like helmet obscuring her face as if it were an old habit. “When I was about to fall asleep, I thought I'd never wake up again.”
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“True…”
“It seems everyone thought the same,” Tristessa thought to herself, saddened and guilty that her dealings with Madame Luchie had caused so much suffering. Especially to Bran and Reiden. “At least they’re still alive. If they had died, I…”
“Lady!” Hearing Auron’s shout made Tristessa’s heart race, and she, startled, looked wide-eyed toward the tent with the telecommunications equipment. He was calling her from there. “Astoria and Severus are transmitting again!”
Any dark thoughts about the odds of Death vanished. Tristessa jumped up and trotted alongside Vergil toward the tent, followed by the tired but harmonious glances of the mercenaries.
“…and remember to open the relief valve every three minutes; don’t let the potentiometer get too hot. And the dial that regulates the frequency is very sensitive, try to touch it as little as possible,” Hilda told Auron, emerging from her safe haven and trying to put on a coat with fur around the neck collar and wrists. “Ah, Miss Tristessa, I’m glad to see you safe and sound! I’ve fixed the technical problem; you can start talking to your colleagues whenever you like. They called earlier, and I explained what happened. You can give them more details…”
“How are they?” the distraught girl asked, grabbing the woman’s oil-stained right hand with both of hers and shaking it somewhat desperately. “What did they tell you, Miss Hilda?”
“Calm down, everything is fine! They’ll explain everything!” Hearing that calmed the sudden surge of emotions within Tristessa, and she finally let go of the engineer. “I’m afraid I must leave you two alone. I must go and check the remains of the recovered telecommunications equipment. Excuse me.”
In a hurry, the woman ran south toward the military wagon that had brought what little could be salvaged from the Unar outpost. Broken weapons, supplies, belongings of the murdered… And military technology, such as the telecommunications systems, reduced to charred and blood-soaked pieces.
Beep. Beep.
Tristessa heard the alarm coming from inside the tent, and she and the gunslinger went inside. On the control panel, full of cranks, levers, and crystals, one of the latter emitted a distinct phosphorescent blue glow. Along with the sound, it signaled an incoming transmission, flashing with a coded logic.
“It’s all yours, lady. I’m not going to touch equipment that will cost me a fortune if I break it.”
“At least show me how to operate it; don’t think I remember all the instructions!”
The two took their seats in front of the large structure that combined science and magic. Following Auron's instructions, Tristessa activated the mechanisms necessary to clear the static noise emanating from the speakers and start the transmission.
“…this is Camp Belsen. Awaiting response, over.”
Astoria’s voice, slightly distorted, made the ear-to-ear grin on Tristessa’s face seem like it would last a lifetime.
“This is Tristessa and Auron… Just hearing you makes my heart race, Tori,” the girl said, loud and clear into the metal handset, causing the gunslinger beside her to stifle a laugh. “And is that Sev’s breathing next to you? Oh, wow… I’m getting excited! Over.”
“You’re quite the clown, Tristessa…”
“Don’t call me that.”
Knightess and thaumaturge complained at the same time, and neither Tristessa nor Auron could contain their laughter. The luxury of laughing and finding joy simply by hearing their voices, after so much horror, was a true balm to the soul. Something that was needed in that camp, so empty of people who would never return.
“The technician told us that the Coven attacked the outpost to the south, and that you two, along with the General, fought against Daiana Mercer-Archeos… How are you? Over.”
“We’re fine. The General was a towering fortress; Daiana couldn’t lay a finger on us,” explained the gray-eyed girl, trying to convey calm with her words as she noticed the worry in Astoria’s voice. “We couldn’t finish her off, nor could we save the soldiers at the outpost… But we did find the Fireclaw Company mercenaries and the Mercer-Archeos family. All alive. Over.”
“Ah…! T-They’re there? Can I talk to them?”
The way Severus spoke, so excited he forgot to say over, almost brought Tristessa to tears: the frostbiting hatred in his voice had melted, revealing hints of the blood elf from past loops she knew. Someone who hadn't lost hope and who, even in his quest for vengeance for his slaughtered kin, still had the will to laugh and bring joy to others.
“S-Sev... I mean, Severus. I'm sorry, they went to get checked out by the healers. Don't worry, they're fine!” she blurted out before she could startle him. “If you want, I can ask Auron to go get Jin... Over.”
“No, no, there’s no need. Knowing they're alright puts my mind at ease,” he replied, his voice breaking with the sighs that caught in his throat like someone on the verge of tears. “Tristessa, I… I, well… Take care of them, please? Over.”
Tristessa felt Auron’s hand near her face. A delicate touch with his index finger to wipe away the tears she hadn’t been able to hold back; a gesture she acknowledged with a broken smile. “Of course, I will. What about you all? Any news about Madame Luchie? Over.”
“…Tristessa, it’s me. Severus went outside for some fresh air,” Astoria answered in his place. Understandable. “Karla Luchie is here at the camp, she arrived several hours ago… Pursued by a group of witches, you should know. Over.”
“Witches…?!”
“Astoria, it’s me. Is everyone alright?” The gunslinger decided to ask when he saw Tristessa lose her voice, trapped by her rampant thoughts. “Over.”
“Auron, hi… Yes, no one was hurt. Believe it or not, Madame Luchie took care of the witches all by herself. It was quite a…bloody spectacle, worthy of a Crywolf beastwoman,” she explained, making the shocked girl remember as if it were yesterday the old woman transformed into that great, gray-furred beast, its hot snout and open mouth dripping hot saliva, threatening to kill her with a single bite. “We faced a Priestess of the Black Eye, Tatyana Salomé. She didn’t seem to want to fight but rather oversaw as her subjects were slaughtered to pieces.”
“Tatyana! She arrived at the southern outpost to rescue Daiana!” Tristessa exclaimed.
“Say over and don’t interrupt me, will you?! Now I see why that witch suddenly disappeared...” Astoria was silent for a moment, reflecting before continuing. “I don’t think we could have killed her, you know? She used thaumaturgy like a prodigy scholar, with her Divinity she dodged what was always a unavoidable strike, and with her Simulacrum… I don’t know what the fuck she did with that disgusting evil eye, but it seemed to synergize with her Divinity.”
Auron and Tristessa exchanged worried glances upon hearing these details. It seemed to have been a difficult situation for Astoria and Severus. If Daiana hadn’t been cornered and Tatyana forced to use her Divinity to go south, who knew what might have happened? Dividing their forces had been both risky and equally beneficial. Many pros and cons, which, unfortunately, didn't prevent the operation from being bloodless.
Furthermore, the witches had Tristessa's [photograph]… It was imperative to retrieve it if she wanted to gain more clues about her past on Earth.
“There's no point in lamenting for a missed chance. Perhaps another day we'll get our revenge against that witch… Now, we have another, more pressing matter to worry about. You know what awaits us now in Entrana, right, Tristessa? Over.”
“Yes…” she replied, nodding with absolute understanding. Auron was on the same page as her, aware of the challenge that still lay ahead. “Will you all be with me there? Over.”
“What kind of question is that? Without you, we can't fulfill our dreams. You’re Gods-damn right we are going to be by your side.”
Of course. The three heroes she had chosen weren't going to give up on anything to achieve their goals. To make their dreams a reality.
To kill the Shadow Queen.
To clear the name of one of the most hated families in the history of the world.
To resolve an unknown conflict with a loved one, hidden as unfathomable greed.
Tristessa didn't need Astoria in front of her to know her determination, and even less so Auron, arms crossed beside her, immersed in a sea of ??fire that was his own courageous dark soul. Or Severus, his will surely fortified by knowing that his precious friends had escaped the clutches of the Lord of Forbidden Knowledge.
There was much to discover about the three of them, beyond their desires, and Tristessa held a certain unfair advantage through clues she had gleaned from failed loops. It was sensitive knowledge that she could justify possessing in a superficial degree through her Divinity, but it wasn't worth the mortal risk or the potential harm to their trust.
In this sixth loop that Tristessa was experiencing, her relationship with the three of them was new, fresh, and taking its first steps; bound only by her status as a [Stranger]. The feelings she had for them went deeper, but for the moment, she had to settle for a relationship of mutual interest and nothing more.
“We’ll see each other in a couple of hours, so get ready: this is the final stage of your plan, Tristessa,” the Imperial Knightess reminded her with words so full of conviction that Tristessa couldn’t help but trust her. She couldn’t help but believe that the end she longed for to this nightmare that had haunted her for days was near, within her grasp. “I no longer have any doubt that we will prevail. Over.”
“Yes, Tori. I know we will triumph,” Tristessa replied, sharing the same hopeful, sidelong glance with Auron. “Over and out.”
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