“You sure you don’t want me to erase them? Don’t worry, I won’t leave any evidence behind.”
“Don’t.”
We’ve repeated this conversation many times over.
Chased for so long, running for our lives.
We were even shot at (though none of them hit).
Then, just as we were about to get cornered at a dead end, we were saved by an orc merchant who heard about us from Giggir.
When it came to orc dwellings, most people probably imagined it to be some dirty, stuffy hovel.
By and large, however, that would be a misconception. Orc homes were generally clean, and one might even consider it preferable compared to the homes of certain semifer races which shed fur seasonally.
Other semifer might retort: “But don’t they wash their bodies with mud?” That was certainly no lie, for it was one of the orcs’ racial customs. According to ancient records from the surface, they did indeed soak their bodies in putrid juices and dirty water. However, those traditions evolved over time, and now existed in a different form on the floating islands. Now, they filled their bathtubs with an amber liquid composed of high-quality clay and expensive perfume—calling it “mud” would be a misnomer.
Well, that probably only applied for individuals who could afford it, thought Feodor as he rested in the luxurious parlor.
The room was bedecked in gold, every bit as ostentatious as the one he had been in when meeting with Giggir. The gaudy decorations all around him were so dazzling they hurt the eyes.
The master referred to you as kindred, so you’re already a part of our family here, the orc shopkeeper had said. Incidentally, he hadn’t been able to tell the merchant’s face apart from Giggir’s.
The orcs were many in number, and their strong ties of kinship (on top of their poor relations with other races) led to their tendency to gather into their own communities on each floating island. These so-called orc towns were cities—some even countries—unto themselves, and it was no simple task for outsiders to meddle in them.
“You being featureless is of no issue, do think of this as your own home.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your kindness and will take you up on your offer.”
“Bufufu, no need to be so uptight…”
Ignoring the strange laugh, Feodor took a sip of tea.
“…In fact, you could even leave my daughter with a kid if you’d like.”
Pfft!
Feodor and Lakhesh both spat out their tea.
The orcs had no concept of monogamy, as is the case with many of the highly fertile races. Both sexes mated with whoever took their fancy, and the resulting child would be raised communally. At times, this liberalness had led them to make certain proposals which others might find questionable.
The orc merchant subsequently introduced his daughter to him.
Feodor politely refused the offer on the spot, but still Lakhesh sent him a cold glare afterward. “She had nice skin, didn’t she?” Eyes narrowed, her voice was as sharp as a knife.
The orc girl did indeed have silky, light pink skin that could be considered beautiful, but…
“Perfect for a featureless-hater like you, hmm?”
Now wait a moment. I do hate the featureless, but I don’t remember saying I’d be okay with anyone who isn’t one.
“So, her race aside, you’re saying that girl is your type?”
Ahh damn, her mood isn’t getting any better. No, why’s she so ticked off in the first place? The current Lakhesh was indeed rather clingy towards Feodor, but she shouldn’t have any romantic feelings towards him. She wasn’t like that when they ran into Tiat during their escape, and she had even referred to Tiat as his lover back then.
“Hmph.”
Ugh, what am I supposed to do?
Ill at ease, he escaped to the toilet.
He washed his hands after finishing with his business. Alone at last, he could finally think about the very serious issues on his plate.
There are too many things at hand that merit thorough deliberation.
Doctor Margomedari Brompton. One of the few in the know about the adjustment of the leprechauns, and probably the one most directly involved with the actual procedure.
Beside us, several other groups are also gunning for him, the Winged Guard being one of those no less… He wondered where the doctor was at present. The first place which came to mind was the Winged Guard, but considering the number and persistence of the soldiers chasing after them, that might actually not be the case.
What if… If the Winged Guard were combing the streets because the doctor was missing, everything would make sense. If so, he should be able to piece together the chain of events that led to their earlier mishap.
Two possibilities present themselves. Either he’s betrayed the Winged Guard, or the organization has turned on him… No, I’m getting ahead of myself. This relies on too many assumptions.
Numerous thoughts racing through his mind, he put away his handkerchief and walked back down the hallway.
Right, you always see this in those luxurious mansions, Feodor mused as he stood in front of a large mirror hanging by the corner of the wall.
“Tch…” Just after he clicked his tongue, a headache assaulted him.
A mirror merely reflected whatever was in front of it, so it displayed the white walls and lighting crystals behind him as if he were standing where the mirror was.
Except there was one difference. The one reflected in the mirror wasn’t Feodor Jessman. Instead, an unfamiliar black-haired, black-eyed featureless young man stood in his place.
And he was laughing, his cackling practically audible.
Feodor reflexively reached for his mouth, but it was still. The only one laughing was the man in the mirror.
“What’s so funny?”
“–ha—so—funn–”
It was disjointed, but Feodor felt like he could hear the man’s voice.
It’s all just in my head, it has to be. Or, he thought, it could simply be a partial echo of his own words. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he was talking to an inanimate object.
“Are you messing with me?”
“–mess—me?”
“What the hell are you?”
“Wh—hell—ou”
Oh, for crying out loud. What a farce. Irate, he tried responding to his own question.
“I am the leprechauns’ enemy.”
“I am the destroyer of Regule Aire.”
Yeah, a mirror’s just a mirror after all. It can’t talk back to you, so I’m just wasting my time…
…Huh?
“What the?!”
Hearing something unexpected, he blinked and looked at the mirror again. However, the man had disappeared, and a silver-haired, violet-eyed youth stared at him tensely in his place.
What just happened? He said something else, but what did he mean by that?
“What are you doing?”
Someone called out to him while he was deep in thought. The door down the hallway was ajar, with Lakhesh peeking out at him.
“Oh…I had something stuck in my hair.”
“Hmph.” She snorted.
He couldn’t tell if she believed him or just didn’t care. Either way, she beckoned him over with a slight wave of hand.
“If you’re done, get over here. They’ve got some new info for you.”
The orcs living nearby had pinned down the movements of the outsiders running around town. When it came to teamwork, no one else came close to them, and an abundance of accurate information streamed in steadily.
“Do you have a map?”
“Right here.”
A map was spread across the table, with markers placed here and there where suspicious activities were reported. Each single instance did not provide much information on its own, but as a whole, Feodor could piece together a hazy timeline.
“Over here…” He noticed something.
Besides them, another group had been on the run in the titanic district. Not only that, their pursuers hailed from different factions.
“…found them.”
According to the reports, the ones being chased were a group of two, one of which was, based on the description, a cyclops. Could such a coincidence happen where a cyclops was on the run at that particular time? No, it was likely none other than Margomedari Brompton himself.
Feodor found it strange that the doctor was being accompanied by someone else, but that was only a vague inference based on what he knew in the first place. Fussing over the small details, he thought, wouldn’t do him any good. Thus, all that remained was to confirm it with his own eyes.
“Let’s go.”
Steeling himself, he stood up. There were too many things vying for his attention, but right now he needed to focus on the most important goal.
And that was to open up negotiations with Margomedari Brompton, even if it meant ignoring the thing in his head and the pain in his body.
“What’s with you?”
He came back to his senses. While he was lost in thought, he had unknowingly been staring at Lakhesh’s face.
“Nothi— Actually, no.” He averted his eyes. “I was just captivated.”
“Yeah yeah, thanks for the flattery.”
Just as Feodor hoped, she wasn’t embarrassed or overly self-conscious. All she did was shrug her shoulders slightly.