As they arrived at the Cobalt Moon branch office, soldiers rushed towards the carriage, lining up along the path to the entrance. The air was thick with anticipation and respect as silence falls, punctuated only by the sounds of boots striking the ground. They salute Captain Wiart, Lieutenant Lane, Dahlia, and Perus as they pass, their expressions a mixture of awe and curiosity. Hex, still chained and unconscious, is carried behind them, a stark contrast to the dignified procession ahead. Almost immediately after they pass through the imposing doors, murmurs break out among the soldiers.
"Is that really Captain Wiart?"
"Is that the criminal who killed all those Jade Circles?"
"They might be planning a raid."
"Of course it's him, but who's that woman with them?"
"Why do they call him the Living Infantry?"
The soldiers' curiosity grows, fueled by the tension in the air and the weight of recent rumors. What could bring someone as famous and high-ranking as Captain Wiart to town, especially with the dark whispers surrounding the ruins incident? The town itself buzzes with energy, a stark contrast to the unease that looms over the soldiers. Shops display their goods under colorful awnings, merchants enthusiastically shout their wares, and the scent of freshly baked bread mingles with spices from nearby stalls. Laughter rings out amidst the clinking of coins—a testament to the town's thriving economy, where businesses flourish and people bustle about with purpose.
Despite the recent turmoil, the streets are alive with activity. Citizens greet one another with smiles, children dart between stalls, and the sound of a street performer's lute adds a cheerful melody to the ambiance. However, underneath this vibrant exterior lies an undercurrent of tension, as whispers of the past days' events ripple through the crowd. Meanwhile, Hex is taken to the prison cells beneath the office and securely locked up, a solitary figure in the midst of a lively town.
Captain Wiart and Lieutenant Lane are escorted to the branch leader's office, where they are greeted by Sergeant Winslow, a short, plump, bald man who looks distinctly out of shape. His cheeks flush with excitement at the sight of the captain.
"Welcome, Captain. I'm glad to see you made it safely," Sergeant Winslow says, extending a hand for a handshake that feels more eager than formal.
Captain Wiart nods, his expression unreadable. "Yes. Forgive us for the short notice; we'll be out of your hair soon."
"Oh, no rush! It's not every day the great Captain Wiart walks into your office," Winslow replies, his eyes sparkling with admiration. "Stay as long as you need, sir."
Captain Wiart gives him a strange look, the warmth in Winslow's voice grating against the urgency of their situation. "Thank you for the warm welcome."
As Wiart and Lane turn to leave, Winslow struggles to stand up, eventually managing to salute with an awkward flourish. Once they're down the hall, Lieutenant Lane speaks up.
"I take it you don't like him?" Lane asks, keeping his voice low.
Captain Wiart's gaze narrows, a flicker of disdain in his eyes. "Look into Sergeant Winslow for me."
Lane nods, his curiosity piqued. "Yes, sir. Anything specific I should be looking for?"
"Gems," Wiart replies simply, the weight of his words heavy in the air.
Lane raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Understood, sir."
Two days have passed since they arrived in this vibrant town. Dahlia walks down to the dungeon and approaches Hex's cell. Unlike the other cells, it's reinforced with steel and guarded by two mages. Hex has been asleep for those two days, the aftermath of his transformation still taking its toll. She stops before the cell and calls out, her voice echoing in the cold, damp air. "Are you awake?"
Hex stirs, groaning as consciousness washes over him. "Wha… what happened to me?"
Dahlia crosses her arms, her expression cool and unyielding. "After you refused to listen to my instructions, you transformed into a mindless, bloodthirsty beast and went on a rampage."
Hex's eyes widen as he takes in her stern expression, and, glancing down at his own frail, elderly appearance, realization dawns upon him—she's telling the truth.
His voice is weak, laced with confusion. "What… what are you going to do with me?"
Dahlia watches him coolly, her gaze piercing. "I intend to study you and understand what that orb really was." She places a finger on her chin thoughtfully, her mind racing with possibilities. "As for the military, I'd wager they'll want you executed. You did kill quite a few officers."
Hex sighs, a soft chuckle escaping his lips despite the gravity of the situation. "Can't say that surprises me. Hope the old geezer's alright, at least."
Dahlia frowns, her curiosity piqued. "Old geezer?"
"A friend… though I don't know if I can still call him that."
She raises an eyebrow. "A friend? Why wouldn't you?"
Hex hesitates, guilt flickering in his eyes. "I got him involved in my mess. It seems like that's all urchins are good for—causing trouble."
Dahlia's gaze hardens, her tone cold. "I see… What's your real name, urchin?"
"Hex," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.
"No, I mean your real name, not some street name," she says, studying him with growing curiosity. "What did your family name you?"
Hex sighs, his shoulders sagging under the weight of memories. "I told you. As far as I know, I don't have one. I was dumped in front of some orphanage, and the caretaker, who was drunk as usual, figured I was just another burden. Said my parents probably thought the same, so he called me Hex. Twisted sense of humor, that one. He was eventually gutted by some people he owed."
Dahlia looks at him, her expression softening slightly. "Hmm. You seem oddly cheerful for someone likely facing execution."
Hex chuckles again, a hint of defiance in his tone. "Never been one for despair. If I laugh, I'll die. If I don't laugh, I'll still die. Might as well be happy."
She smirks, the corners of her lips twitching. "Well, there's no need to reminisce just yet. You won't be executed until I'm done with my research."
"How reassuring," Hex replies dryly, sarcasm dripping from his words.
Meanwhile, outside the stables, Captain Wiart is stroking a horse when Lieutenant Lane approaches, urgency etched on his face.
"Well? What did you find?" Wiart asks, his tone commanding.
Lane clears his throat, gathering his thoughts. "It seems the sergeant recently made a rather large purchase of rubies—about a chest's worth—from the black market. He's likely embezzling funds, but I couldn't pull any direct records on him."
Wiart nods, his mind racing. "Of course not. He's not embezzling funds. This confirms my suspicions."
Suddenly, alarms ring out across the compound, shattering the calm of the day. Soldiers rush about, weapons drawn, their faces painted with fear and determination. Captain Wiart stops a passing soldier, his voice steady amid the chaos. "Report. What's going on?"
The soldier salutes, panic evident in his eyes. "The town is under attack, sir—by golems!"
Wiart and Lane exchange a look of urgency before mounting their horses they head out with the troops. As they approach, they find the streets filled with chaos as massive stone golems wreak havoc. Merchants abandon their stalls, their goods strewn across the cobblestones, and citizens scramble to seek refuge in the sturdy buildings lining the street.
Captain Wiart surveys the scene, determination igniting a fire in his chest. "Where did they come from? Golems aren't native to this region!"
A nearby soldier responds, urgency lacing his words. "They burst through the town gates in large numbers, sir!"
Wiart turns to Lane, his voice firm. "You and the rest of the men, evacuate all civilians in this area and tend to the wounded. Leave the golems to me." With that, Captain Wiart spurs his horse forward, charging into the heart of the battle.