Tucking her hand behind her—the one holding the cheap brandy—Bian almost shattered the bottle under her grip as she barely eked out a smile, her face stiffening.
The Culler did not seem to notice, moving to continue with his work, using his bloody butcher's knife to saw off a man's arm clean from the owner's torso.
Harita almost threw up on the spot.
'And this goddamn booze isn't helping, either!' he exclaimed inwardly, his inside voice louder than it has been for a long time.
Blood flowed freely from the sawn arm, staining the already scarlet floor, walls, and even ceiling. A putrid stench assaulted their noses like a vile, cruel attack.
"Come, come," the man beckoned, tossing the sawn-off arm like it was garbage. Judging by the man flippant listless expression, it might as well have been.
He waved for a seat close to the door, one of the very few furnishings still somewhat intact, with only the bottom part of its four legs dyed red. Bian's smile froze on her face as she took a seat.
Harita sat, as well, following Bian's lead. He may have been in charge of this mission, but she was the greater expert. That part was undeniable.
Thus, he just kept silent, holding whatever remains in his stomach as the corpses were butchered—culled like cattle, possibly even worse.
"So, what have you come here for?" The Culler's face fell and his expressions flattened into nothing, his eyes tracing the remnant bodies strewn here and there.
Bian gulped, and nobody in the room missed it. Including herself.
"Information, Mr. Quill," she barely eked out. "I seek a boy—or girl. Young adolescent, late child, barely a teen.
"Have you heard anything?"
The man grabs a leg from a nearby corpse and rips it apart with his bare hands, staining his formerly white tunic scarlet even further. "I see. You court death, Black Sparrow.
"I do not recommend you follow this train of thought. My senses tell me that dire consequences follow your actions. In the end, only death awaits," The Culler said enigmatically, his words like those of an ancient story.
'Just how old is this guy?' Harita was baffled, but ultimately kept silent.
Whatever the man was in the past was not his mission. For now, he needed to focus on his most dire tasks.
After a long moment of silence, The Culler continued, "…Yes, I have heard of something like that. The Mad Hatter, they call him. His name doesn't disappoint. I've heard rumors that he likes to kidnap children of great importance. He might have your child with him."
'We already know that,' Harita mocked inwardly. 'What we need is his location.'
Noticing his apparent frustration, Bian decided to change the topic to a more productive one, and said, "I've heard that as well from reliable sources. What I want to know is where in this accursed place he lurks.
"That Hatter isn't stupid, but he's also not the most sane nor rational person there is. He may have hidden his base of operations, but not in the most efficient way available.
"Please, Mr. Quill. I implore you." Bian bowed, closing her eyes. For a moment, there was visible relief on her face from not having to bear witness to such a cruel and disgusting scene anymore.
Harita did the same, but he didn't hide his relief and just let the darkness serve as relief.
Setting down a bloody appendage, The Culler sighed and looked away, then wiped his bloody hands and ruffled through a nearby scarlet cabinet, his face listless and non-committal as ever. After a few seconds, he produced a piece of parchment and held it on front of the two of them, who had already raised their heads.
"Seven thousand shells," he muttered, his voice low and deep, as if it had come from the deepest recesses of the abyss.
Bian glanced at Harita, and he nodded delibirately. Without another word, he produced a hefty bag of coins. He could have used notes, but he sincerely doubted the man would doubt that. Bian accepted the parchment gratefully.
Throwing the hefty bag of coins a couple of times, judging its weight, The Culler stowed it in his scarlet cabinet and gave the two a perfunctory glance.
"I would bring anti-Manipulation items, if I were you," he advised. "The Hatter likes to toy with and break his enemies thoroughly."
Nodding to him, Bian opened the paper parchment and found a map of the slums with a mark at one particular place, as well as a couple other symbols strewn about everywhere.
"Thank you," she muttered, then turned to the door.
Before she could twist the doorknob, however, The Culler's voice suddenly resounded again.
"And be careful of that Paladin friend of yours," he said casually, like a passing wind of sorts. "I don't trust his blood."
Seemingly ignoring the words, Bian opened the door a crack the fully, practically dashing out of the room. Harita followed and closed the door behind him, more than glad to be out of the putrid place. The assaulting smell still lingered in his nostrils, but he found himself adjusting very quickly. Whatever enchantment had been woven in the room kept the putrid smell from going outside to a certain extent.
Harita sighed, immediately regretted it, and almost threw up.
"What's in the map?" he inquired. He had an idea of what the parchment contained, but he still had to ask.
"It's a map of the slums, The Hatter's base, as well as a couple of other possible points of interest."
"Good," Harita nodded, then looked away from her and walked down the stairs.
When the two left the bar, Harita immediately put on a smile and said:
"I'll have the Council members authenticate the map for us. They're quite good at divination, perception, and revelations. I'm sure they'll be of great use." Then, he looked around, and sighed. "They should be having their own investigation right now, but I did order them to return at sundown, so we'll just have to wait until then.
"It's too dangerous to follow the map without any confirmations."
Harita paused, his words lingering in the air.
Then, his eyes grew side as dinner plates!
'Dammit! Not now!'
Noticing Bian's odd state; her eyes flitting as if waking up, her figure languid and hunched, her limbs on either side hanging like a pair of dry rags; he immediately called upon their Vow, the promise they had made back at Marigold Inn and "tug" on the illusory string connecting them together, shifting the spiritual balance they had to his favor immensely, then closed his eyes. When he opened them, Bian looked the same as usual, her brows knit together as she eyed him warily.
"What are you looking at, idiot?" she asked incredulously, her luminous black eyes looking at his face.
Harita smiled and said, "Nothing, nothing. Just a little lost, is all."
The two walked through the underdeveloped road, and when the opportunity arose, Harita found an excuse and separated briefly. Making sure nobody was around, he clutch at his left chest, forgetting breath as if he had just suffered a heart attack.
"Dammit!" he cursed, pounding the wall behind him, causing cracks to spread.
"Using Nine Lives put too much strain on me, and that damn Myth's mind tricks really shook my metal stability. At this rate, the spell would last only a day more. I need to hurry." He grit his teeth, sweat flowing down his face like a waterfall.
In the dark alley of the slums, nobody but the shadows heard his agonized pleas.
◇◆◇◆◇
Entering the turbid house, Mage Bek and Mage Sekiro strode forward, followed briefly the youngest member of this magician trio, Adorned Edsin. A dozen people, mundane and Adorned alike, littered the floor and walls in a deep slumber.
A deep layer of fog clouded Bek's figure. It was slightly see-through though, allowing Edsin to peer inside when he leaned over.
Bek chuckled.
"That's rude, you know. Staring at somebody so closely like that," he smiled, the rest of his face hidden the deep fog.
"…Huh?" Edsin muttered incredulously. He looked down, then saw Mage Bek—his superior's—thin shoulder.
"I-I'm sorry…!" he stammered, taking a step back in indignation. "I—I was just curious how that spell worked. You were concentrating so hard earlier, and yet you're so…"
Edsin tried to find the right words.
"You look so lackadaisical right now, even with the spell active. H—how do you do that, sir?! Please tech me!" He bowed with both hands at the side, like some kind of trooper.
"Stop that; you're not a soldier. Leave that to the Army and Order, where such heavy pleasantries are always welcome." Bek paused, catching his breath. "I am merely using sagecraft through a series of conditions.
"Using the spell I cast first, then stacking the power of a couple more on top of that, I can gain the same level as a Magician in terms of general output and power, extending its usage from a few seconds with a limited range of a couple of feet to a couple of minutes and a over a dozen feet in range. Though, most of time, it's rather useless, since my sleeping spell is technically over once the target is afflicted. At that point, the Arcane Tricksters can take care of the rest.
"However, in cases like this with numerous enemies and few companions with outright offensive abilities, the benefit of not having to concentrate on a particular spell is great boon, according to my standards," Bek explained, a pale smile shining through the deep fog.
"That's because your standards are so low, Bek. You refuse to reconfigure the spell into something better and stronger.
"As always, you're too sentimental," Mage Sekiro mocked, a rare teasing smile on his Hamahan face.
"You're one to talk." With a light chuckle, Bek looked away and took a deep breath. His figure behind the fog was slightly hunched over now.
"Are you okay?" Finding his question foolish, Edsin asked again, "Will you be okay?"
Bek fixed his pointed hat.
"Yeah, peachy. Just a little strained. I'm not on the level of a Magician just yet, so using sagecraft like this puts a little too much strain on my mind than I care for." Saying that, Bek turned to the two and asked:
"Do you guys sense anything odd?" He needed to make sure.
At the state he was in, expending so much mana would lead him to exhaustion very, very soon.
But, until then, at some point just before he loses consciousness, he would make sure to carve as deep a path he could for his allies to come.
Adorned Edsin spoke first, "There."
He pointed at a noncommittal rug made out of some kind of white fur from an unknown animal. Bek made sure to step back before ordering Sekiro to unveil the floor beneath.
Nodding to him, the Hamahan Mage took a couple of steps forward, just a few feet shy from the white fur rug, and opened his exaggerated tome of hilarious proportions.
"O wind, rise," he chanted briefly, causing a gale to envelop the room and push the rug a couple feet away.
"Magecraft…" Edsin muttered, his voice muffled by the wind. "Magic through incantations…"
When the wind settled and the dust flew away, only a wooden trap door with a metal knob remained where the white fur rug used to be.
The edges of Bek's lips rose.
"Bingo~"
Taking the initiative to do a preliminary investigation, Edsin peered down at the trapdoor and felt a great unease descend upon him like a cold shower on a warm morning.
"It's dangerous to go any further," he said, perspiration running down his back like a waterfall.
Catching his discomfort, Sekiro nodded to Bek and decided to continue their investigation only after they have reported to their superior; the Paladin of the Knight's Order, Harita Sezukumu.
…At that moment, a sudden chilling, high-pitched cry echoed from the sky, and a malicious cackling invaded their minds.
"Ha-ha-ha-hah! It is time, finally, for our most epic duel, Legend of the Dead Sea. Our battle shall go down in the pages history…!!"