Contrary to the impression held by Georg Schenk and Erna Barms, who thought Guber had immediately left the Ancient Archive, she had merely moved to the nearest window to observe what was happening outside.
— Hmm... — Guber mused internally. — Incredible. You never mentioned you could also track the approach of enemies.
— That's not me, — replied another voice, also female, resonating faintly with an echo in Martina's mind. — You should thank Gong Gang Seong An, who did us both a favor and passed this message along to me.
— So that's how it is… Remind me, once she gets her own master, she won't be able to do this anymore, right?
— Exactly.
— Which means Prism as a whole isn't all that advantageous for me? — Martina concluded with thinly veiled disdain.
— Don't worry, that problem can be resolved, — the voice in her mind hurried to reassure her. — I'd recommend you focus on what's happening right now.
— Speaking of which, what are they thinking about out there?
From the upper floor of the Ancient Archive, situated in a dense forest near the capital of Optimus— Celestial City —there was a breathtaking view of the local landscape and the surrounding settlement of Clear Glades. Anyone fortunate enough to visit this village, even just passing through, could easily guess its name was inspired by its surroundings, as was the case with most settlements in Optimus. Despite the name, there were no actual "glades"—the forest was far too thick, with interwoven branches and leaves blocking sunlight from reaching the ground. Each tree was cloaked in moss. The picturesque view of the large flora contrasted sharply with the absence of smaller flora: no grass grew in Clear Glades or its vicinity. There was only light-brown soil, which, fortunately, was firm and clean enough to walk on without dirtying one's shoes too much.
The settlement itself had not existed for long, serving as a small waypoint for travelers along the Second Northern Sky Road. Like the First Northern Sky Road, it connected Celestial City with the Province of Lime, which served as a gateway to the far north of the country. Most similars stopping here were heading to the capital, not away from it, since Clear Glades was close enough to Celestial City to offer a convenient spot to rest or eat before entering the city.
However, the convoy that arrived at the Ancient Archive—a group of riders accompanied by a large transport vehicle—had clearly come from the south. Moreover, its destination seemed to be right here in this settlement.
— Thinking? More like meticulously scanning the surroundings, hoping not to miss anything, — the voice remarked.
— Or more specifically, hoping not to miss me, — Martina added. — This time, it seems it will be a bit more challenging than before, won't it?
— Probably. Another question is why you even need all these complications, but I already know you won't answer that.
— You're the spirit of a valence sword, living in my consciousness. I can't think of anyone who'd understand this better than you, — Guber smirked before striding briskly down the stairs. — And besides, weren't you the one who said you'd prefer me to avoid conflicts rather than engage in battles?
— But this situation looks like neither is necessary. A couple of minutes of talking could settle everything. — The spirit persisted.
— Nope, sorry, but that's not how it looks to me, — Martina replied with equal finality.
— Oh... — came a sharp sigh. — Do as you see fit.
And with that, the voice in her mind fell silent.
At the same time, a striking figure was slowly but resolutely making their way toward the Ancient Archive along the long avenue connecting the Second Northern Road to the building's entrance. The figure, clad in bright white metallic armor, was notable not just for the armor itself but also for the black tricorne hat perched atop their head, a steel mask with narrow glass slits and a respirator, and a red emblem of a winged flask painted prominently on their back. After taking several more determined steps, the figure stopped abruptly. Without turning around, they beckoned with two fingers for another similarly dressed similar to approach—a subordinate whose flask emblem was painted white instead of red and who sat astride an unusual mount. The creature was a hybrid of a rhinoceros and a horse, with the thick, leathery skin of the former and the overall build of the latter. As the subordinate dismounted and made their way toward their commanding officer, the animal turned its head, revealing brightly glowing sea-green eyes.
— Here's the situation, — the similar with the red emblem, speaking in a commanding bass voice muffled slightly by their gear, began. — I'm heading into the Archive. You two are to keep a meticulous watch over the settlement. Miss nothing—one of you is to monitor the Archive and its exits, while the other watches the road and the surrounding area.
— Understood, Captain Geissler, — the subordinate replied without hesitation, but it seemed the captain required more assurance.
Geissler leaned his masked face inches from the subordinate's and growled:
— If we fail to find her this time, do I need to explain where we'll all end up?
— No, Captain Geissler, — the subordinate, identified as Armbruster, responded in a robotic, self-assured tone, not moving a millimeter from his stance.
Satisfied for the moment, Geissler shot toward the Archive entrance with such speed that, while technically walking, he could easily have matched a track runner's pace. Meanwhile, Armbruster sprinted to his partner atop the strange mount to relay the orders, arriving just as Geissler flung open the Archive doors and disappeared inside.
— He said one of us should watch the road and the nearby area, while the other keeps an eye on the Archive in case someone comes out. What'll it be?
— Staring at the Archive for a few minutes is better for both my eyes and my sanity, — replied a female voice from beneath the armor. — There's nothing else worth looking at in this dump anyway.
— Didn't doubt your choice, — Armbruster snorted, then turned sharply toward a blue-eyed similar in a long-sleeved blue coat and matching trousers who was standing nearby. — What are you gawking at, idiot?! Got nothing else to see around here?!
The scolded similar took two steps back, his trembling eyes fixed on the ground, before retreating toward the road.
— Nothing else indeed. Even the Archive building is starting to bore me, — the woman muttered, reclining back on the strange creature. Her head rested on her thighs, while her legs lay across the animal's head, the hybrid seemingly unbothered by the position.
— Anything would bore you without your narcotics, — Armbruster snorted again. — We need some elevation, but every house here is one story tall except for the one we're watching.
— You could try climbing a tree and taking a look from there, — his partner suggested lazily, her tone bordering on drowsy. — You might not catch Guber, but you'd make one hell of a squirrel!
— Hilarious, — Armbruster exhaled. — Fine, I'm heading to that bar.
— The first smart decision you've made since we met.
Weaving through the sparse foot traffic, Armbruster made his way to a brick building with a similarly brick porch, complete with a smoking area marked by a glowing, unevenly painted sign that read simply, Bar. Confirming that it had a roof terrace, as indicated by the visible railings, he swung the door open and stepped inside.
To his surprise, the bar was nearly empty. Rows of pinewood tables and chairs sat unoccupied, and the atmosphere was one of perfect stillness. Even the Eon-D radio system, which rested on the smooth bar counter—sturdy enough to withstand any raucous patrons—was silent. Behind the counter, a bartender stood casually polishing a glass, seemingly unbothered by the lack of customers. As Armbruster entered, the bartender finished polishing, set the glass behind the counter, and looked up with a polite, though not overly wide, smile.
The bartender appeared to be in his mid-forties, modestly dressed in trousers, a vest, and a dark blue shirt. What stood out most was his hair—or lack thereof. Long locks on the sides contrasted starkly with the bald crown of his head. He greeted Armbruster in a voice that was high, hoarse, and so kindly that one could easily imagine patrons opening up to him for heartfelt conversations.
— Good day. Can I get you something to drink?
— Under different circumstances, gladly. But I'm on urgent business, — Armbruster admitted as he approached the counter. — Friedrich Armbruster, agent of the Defense Forces' Hazardous Substances Control Division. By law, I'm entitled to use your rooftop for surveillance of this part of the city.
— Of course, — the bartender replied with a shrug, opening the gate to allow access behind the bar. — We're a respectable establishment; we follow the law.
— Thank you for your cooperation, — Friedrich said sincerely. — I'd appreciate it if you could show me the way.
— It's not far, — the bartender chuckled, opening a door behind him to reveal a small, four-square-meter room. Two closed doors flanked the space, and a ladder leaned against the far wall, leading to the rooftop.
— Indeed, — Friedrich agreed, climbing the ladder. — Though from outside, I thought your roof was open to patrons…
— You're observant, Agent Armbruster, — the bartender replied, waiting for Friedrich to ascend before following him. — We do plan to open an outdoor terrace on the second floor, though in our case, it's more like "a terrace under the canopy of trees." It'll be a while, though, given the season.
Once on the roof, Friedrich leaned against the unsteady railing to survey the area.
— You'd better move fast before the rain ruins the weather for months, — Friedrich suggested. — People say seasons used to change precisely at the start of the month, not days late.
— That's true, — the bartender confirmed, sounding as though he had lived long enough to know. — Though "used to" isn't quite right—it's more that history alternates between epochs where the weather behaves as it should and those where it's as unpredictable as a wild beast. And no one can explain it except by saying, "The ways of the Almighty are inscrutable." But I think the fog will soon settle, leaving little time.
— Well, as you wish… What's your name, by the way? — Friedrich asked, turning briefly before refocusing on his watch over the street.
— Klemens. Klemens Acker, — the bartender introduced himself. — Normally, I don't give my surname, but this doesn't seem like a typical situation.
— Why would it be? We're not looking for you… Pardon me for a moment.
With a swift motion, Armbruster reached for the outer edge of his right wrist armor, revealing a subtle seam. As he touched it, the seam opened further to reveal a small glass screen displaying rows of green text. Navigating quickly, Friedrich selected a name and held the screen close to his face, practically shouting:
— Daniela, for heaven's sake, stop sleeping!
In the distance, a girl who had fallen into a "lethargic" nap stirred abruptly at the Eon call and responded with equal drowsiness:
— I just stopped moving, halfwit…
Friedrich snapped his wrist display shut with a dramatic sigh.
— You have such fascinating relationships, — Klemens remarked, leaning against the railing, though his focus was on admiring the scenic Clear Glades.
— That's one way to put it. By the way, are you aware of why we're here? — Friedrich decided, for the first time, to engage in some small talk.
— Heh, isn't that supposed to be some kind of military secret?
— Oh, not at all. I'm not in the kind of unit that deals in classified missions.
— Heh, — Klemens chuckled again. — Well, I couldn't possibly know the objectives of individual Defense Force units anymore. Ask me that a decade or two ago…
— You served in the Defense Forces? — Friedrich raised his eyebrows, momentarily glancing back before remembering his primary task.
— Worked, — Klemens clarified tersely, implying that he was part of the administration rather than a combat unit. — So, why are you here, after all?
— To apprehend the Prism agent Martina Guber, — Friedrich finally admitted, delivering the statement with a tone reminiscent of the punchline to a joke.
— Apprehend her? — Klemens smirked, resting his chin on his hand with a bemused look.
— De facto apprehension, yes, — Friedrich elaborated, clearly pleased that his irony had been appreciated. — Although it's officially just a conversation we need to have. But knowing my captain's temperament and our history with her, it's unlikely to be that simple.
— What, your captain's excessively harsh?
— Not harsh, exactly. Strict, maybe. But it's more about the situation itself. A doctor chasing a patient across the entirety of Celestial City, only for the patient to keep slipping away—anyone would lose their patience. — Friedrich smirked faintly.
— Hmm… — Klemens mused, staring at the trunk of a nearby tree. — You've piqued my interest so much that I'm tempted to offer you some unsolicited help with your search. What does she look like?
— Thanks for the offer, but this is still my job. And you have your own work to attend to—running this fine establishment, don't you?
— Not at all. My customers are in nearby inns and won't show up until late evening. If anyone comes early, I'll know immediately. — Klemens assured him. — By the way, how many of you are here in total?
— Ah, now that's classified, — Friedrich chuckled.
— Fair enough, — Klemens replied, turning his head to Friedrich with a mischievous glint in his eyes, which the agent naturally ignored. — Though it hardly matters. A single unit wouldn't be enough to apprehend a member of Prism. If you so much as catch a glimpse of Guber today, I'd say you've had extraordinary luck. I'd take any help I could get if I were you.
— Not enough? — Friedrich murmured thoughtfully. — Hard to believe, honestly. Do you even know she's only twenty years old?
— A twenty-year-old in a Prism cloak… That would stand out, — Klemens said, immediately scanning the nearby surroundings with renewed vigor. — Still, if she's in Prism at twenty, there must be a reason. And after all, you wouldn't be chasing her across Celestial City without good cause, would you?
— Feels more like bad luck than good reason, — Friedrich sighed. — It's a long story, but let's just say our previous encounters haven't exactly been due to her incredible stealth.
— If it's hard to say, then it's undoubtedly high, — Klemens laughed, slapping the railing. — Even though I haven't been with the Defense Forces for a while, I know enough to say that Prism is the best unit in the army, incomplete or not. It's obvious from the concept alone. Still, I doubt you'd be here wasting time instead of enjoying your evening in my bar. Orders are orders, after all.
— Are you the owner here?
— Why, does that matter?
— Not really… — Friedrich shrugged. — I get what you're implying—elite units don't recruit just anyone. But still, twenty years old! — He threw his hands in the air, though quickly lowered them.
— It seems your partner—or whatever she is—has decided to take another comfortable nap in the middle of the street, — Klemens observed, completely off-topic.
— To Genal Prime with her, — Friedrich waved dismissively toward the convoy. — Eyes open or closed, she's useless. Let her father deal with her.
— Father? — Klemens asked, though he didn't press the matter further.
— Exactly, — Friedrich confirmed. — Her name's Daniela Geissler, and she's our captain's daughter.
— Well, that's something, — Klemens muttered, nearly laughing. — The Defense Forces really aren't what they used to be—family members in the same unit, Hazardous Substances chasing Prism…
— In those days, there wasn't even a Prism, — Friedrich quipped.
— Why chase her, then? — Klemens asked loudly. — We've been talking all this time, and I only now ask the most obvious question… He scratched his head.
Friedrich's expression turned into an exaggerated smile, both sarcastic and lyrical in nature. Unfortunately, Klemens could only see the protective mask concealing it.
— Are you in the mood for a laugh, Mr. Acker? — Friedrich asked cordially before continuing.
— More than ever, — Klemens replied as if nothing unusual had been said.
— Then I'll tell you. Are you familiar with a narcotic beverage called Pink Frost?
Klemens immediately responded:
— How could I not be? It's directly related to my line of work, not to mention this settlement connects the northern region with the capital, where Frost is produced. Even if I didn't sell it myself—which I do—it's impossible not to know about it because of its price.
— Yes, 2,770 kwons per liter. An absolutely insane price, — Friedrich nodded before continuing his explanation.
The conversation delved into the nature of the drink, its exorbitant cost, and its effects. Friedrich gradually revealed that Martina Guber, as both a member of Prism and the heiress of Duchess Sabine Guber of the Province of Lime, was not only wealthy enough to afford such luxuries but also a significant concern due to her alleged consumption.
As Klemens processed this information, Friedrich's communicator displayed an unsettling message:
"Unable to determine the current location of the selected device."
— What's happening? — Friedrich muttered, his focus sharpening.
— What is it? — Klemens asked.
— Captain Geissler is out of network range, — Friedrich replied, scanning the area.
— Then he's still in the Archive, — Klemens said reassuringly. — The Archive blocks signals to prevent information leaks. Odd that you weren't informed about this beforehand.
— Seems the captain didn't expect to stay inside for too long… — Friedrich began, but his thoughts were interrupted by Klemens.
— You never told me what Martina Guber looks like, — Klemens noted, stepping back from the railing. — But does she, by any chance, have long, voluminous black hair that covers even the Prism emblem on her cloak?
Friedrich froze and leaned over the railing, scanning the street as Klemens raised his hand slowly, pointing to a figure in the crowd standing in front of a confectionery. The figure was difficult to spot, given the distance and the mundane appearance of the shop.
— Damn, it could be her. But what if it's just a similar-looking individual? — Friedrich muttered nervously.
— Then go back and keep watching. Though I doubt any other similar in a Prism cloak would wander into this town by chance, — Klemens said with a shrug.
— Fair point, — Friedrich admitted before scrambling down the ladder with such haste that he nearly fell. He leapt over the bar counter and practically broke the door off its hinges as he bolted into the street.
Klemens followed at a measured pace, calmly descending the ladder, securing the hatch, and returning to the bar. Once inside, he sighed deeply, casting a glance in the direction Friedrich had vanished.
— Excessive haste leads to no good, — he mused aloud before turning to face a young woman seated at the bar. She had long, voluminous black hair, dark blue eyes, a Prism cloak, and a green-blue polo shirt. Tilting his head slightly, he greeted her:
— Good evening… How can I help you?