By the time they reached the tower, it was already dead.
The machinery embedded within its walls and floors had powered down. The pipes through which steam and electricity would normally run were cut, halting any power from the outside. The doors and windows had all been tightly shut, papered over with the coat of arms that was Lyell’s emblem as well as “Trespassing Strictly Forbidden” signs. Below those signs were others that detailed, to the tiniest detail, the various penalties incurred for violating that prohibition.
“This place is a pain, but at the same time it’s pretty convenient, isn’t it?”
The group had gathered up in a room on the thirteenth floor, standing by a window that granted a nearly unobstructed view of Lyell. The one who’d spoken looked out over the scenery, his emotions hidden behind his mask as he muttered to himself in a tone neither joyful nor sullen. “If we don’t fire up the machines, this door won’t budge an inch…”
A low hum resounded from underfoot as the inert emergency power reactor deep underground was forcibly restarted.
In order to quickly supply what would’ve been a normal amount of power, the machine had been pushed to operate at a dangerous level. Its lifespan doubtlessly shortened as a result, but that was of no concern to the group. It’d be fine as long as the reactor held on until they were done.
As a result, the tower’s machinery recovered its functionality, though only temporarily. The process took precious time and weighed them down with useless risk, but it was the only way of proceeding into the tower’s innermost depths. There was no avoiding it.
“Still, since nobody’s allowed to sneak in here, we don’t gotta worry ’bout prying outsiders. That’s a great thing, don’t you think, Margo Medicis?”
The small masked person shook slightly, turning to face the taller man. “I don’t…recall giving you…my name.”
“Naturally, I checked you out. Knowing where our trade partners come from is a matter of life and death for us, after all.”
“…Really. As expected of the foremost…former foremost…Elpis slaver. Knowing you’re…operating outside the law…makes you careful?”
The slaver laughed in a low tone. “Same to you, I don’t remember letting my past slip.”
“Naturally…I investigated. The origin of my…trade partner is—”
“Trade partner? Heh-heh-heh, your acting’s pretty good, though you’ll always sound out of character no matter how nicely you dress up your talk.”
Silence filled the space between them.
Tiat Siba Ignareo had barely managed to hear the conversation.
It seemed the trader had chosen this tower to reconduct the Bead Bottle transaction that had previously fallen through. It was probably a smart plan. All the doors were locked shut until the reactor was restarted, so there wasn’t any way to get into the tower beforehand. Because each floor was tight and cramped, they didn’t need many guards on the thirteenth floor. One only needed to watch the floors directly above and below to render security flawless. And there wasn’t anywhere within the tower for someone to spy on the trade from a hiding spot.
Also, while Tiat wasn’t sure if the traders knew, the small masked person—Margo, it seemed—had extremely sharp senses. If any venenum was activated nearby, they’d notice and escape immediately. In other words, hiding by way of magic was also impossible.
However, Tiat’s hiding spot used none of these methods.
…It’s cold.
Tiat shivered as she pressed her back closer to the outer wall of the tower. The whooshing wind was cold. She chanced a glance downwards, and frost ran through her spine as well.
Of course, even if she lost her footing, the tower’s height was enough that she could ignite wings of venenum. There was more than enough time to do that before crashing into the ground. She knew that, of course, but…she just couldn’t seem to calm her nerves.
“Acting…out of character. What is…your meaning?” the diminutive Margo asked, their caution on full display.
“Just what I said. You’ve already shown us your real goal.” The slaver declared victoriously, snapping his hairy fingers. His guards moved as if to surround Margo.
“What do…you intend to do…by this?”
“Oh, just a bit of self-defense, is all. I was thinking I might catch a certain assassin who’s been aiming for my head.” Margo didn’t reply. The slaver smirked. “I said I checked you out, yeah? A number of former Elpis-registered merchants lost their lives recently. Strangest thing is, they all happened to die while in the middle of some odd deal…”
Now surrounded by five men, Margo warily looked left and right.
“Well!” The slaver clapped his hands together. “Let’s continue the deal! How about you go right ahead and hand over all those Bead Bottles you’re carrying?”
What should I do? Tiat thought, shivering from the cold. She wasn’t following the conversation very well, but there was one thing she could tell.
That small masked person, Margo M…Me…Margo Whatchamacallit, was still a child.
Compared to her fifteen-year-old self, Margo was a few years younger. Their small build wasn’t a racial feature—at least, it wasn’t as simple as that. Their voice was modulated not only so that it’d be hard to identify, but also so it wouldn’t give away any clues about Margo’s age.
But…even if we know that, so what?
Their mission was to secure all the Bead Bottles that Margo had. It was possible to just jump in and arrest everyone there. If they launched a surprise attack with this kind of timing, Margo probably wouldn’t get away like last time.
But in that case, they’d only be able to get ahold of the Bottles brought by Margo. They couldn’t move carelessly on the chance that Margo had divided some of them among her comrades.
Collon. Tiat turned her gaze and saw her pink-haired friend, similarly clinging to the wall, give her a pained look.
“…Achoo.” Alongside that expression, a small sneeze escaped her mouth. Tiat hurriedly peeked back inside, relieved to find that it’d gone unnoticed amidst the howl of the wind.
“I don’t…know anything…about that. Though…you would not believe me…I suppose?”
“You get it, huh.”
“I brought only…one Bead Bottle. Now, the…agreed payment.”
“Hah! That deal’s dead and buried already. What you should have on your mind now is a different one. Give us all your Bead Bottles—and your life too.”
One of the guards moved to rush forward at Margo’s back, an unsheathed knife in his hand gleaming dully.
Of course, given how Margo had evaded the Winged Guard’s pursuit up to now, their cautiousness was nowhere near average. Margo had likely considered the possibility that she would be attacked, and without any trace of surprise, would deftly dodge with one twist. The knife’s tip would vanish into Margo’s cloak and the guard, his posture broken, would collapse to the floor.
Everyone there thought as much. Tiat, Collon, Margo, even the knife-wielding guard and the other masked men. They all expected the same outcome.
There was something none of them knew. The reason the tower was powered down and disconnected from external power. The reason entry was deemed forbidden, and all doors firmly shut.
The machines that composed the tower had been worn out far beyond their limits. The pressure valves were rusted, the steam pipes were warped, and the emergency alarms were broken. Once, after a small explosion, City Hall sent an engineer to investigate the tower. It was judged an extreme danger, isolated and shut down before the end of the day. That had been three days ago, and was why the tower was already dead when the masked group arrived.
Of course, starting the emergency power generator without having conducted any maintenance or repairs had only made the situation drastically worse. Having no means of release for over more than thirty minutes, a destructively high amount of pressure slowly built up, until at last—
The generator exploded with a thunderous roar, bursting into countless iron scraps.
The tower swayed violently and the windows shattered one by one. The sudden vibrations also threw off the observers who had been clinging to the outer wall.
Margo’s posture crumbled. They fell, almost as if on purpose, towards the knife heading into their back.
A dirty steel blade scythed into young flesh. Margo’s voice distorted into an anguished scream.
The tower began to tilt. The walls creaked loudly and broke into numerous fragments, crumbling down from the thirteenth floor. As the guards started to understand what was happening and the merchant curled into a panicked ball, several things spilled out from the fallen Margo’s chest to drop to the floor and bounce lightly with clear chimes.
Palm-sized spheres, an indescribable blackness enclosed within.
The merchant’s mouth dropped open, as if to say, “That’s it!”
Terror lit up Margo’s eyes as they swiveled towards the fallen glass spheres. The floor was already so slanted that standing was impossible. Naturally, that meant the glass spheres were rolling downward—in other words, from the thirteenth floor and into empty space.
The man with the knife let go, stretching his hand out. It didn’t reach.
Then two girls flew in over the broken outer walls, looked around for an instant, and reached for the rolling glass spheres without a moment’s hesitation.
Got them! Tiat thought triumphantly. There were three Bottles in total, which they could confirm because Margo was about to scoop up the last one. According to Ithea’s information, the Bead Bottles brought onto the island totaled three.
In other words, if they could secure the last Bottle it’d all be over. There were still a few obstacles—the armed men—but they weren’t likely to be much of a problem.
“Hey, you bunch! Stop moving and surrender, okay?” Collon shouted, her voice somewhat lacking in vigor. “We’ll hear your stories later, so stay put for now!”
No one saw.
No one realized.
Four glass spheres had spilled from Margo Medicis’s chest.
Four Bead Bottles needed to be collected.
The last one rolled silently down the inclined floor, picking up speed and rushing over the side of the broken wall.
Far below the tilted tower, somewhere no one saw, so quietly no one heard, a glass sphere broke.