Glug.
Fors swallowed audibly. She'd never imagined a number that large before. With that much money, she and Xio could live comfortably for the rest of their lives.
As for fiction — it could be a pure hobby. Inspired? Write a few hundred words. Not feeling it? Take three or five weeks off. Bad weather — overcast, rainy, snowy, foggy — none of that was suitable for writing either. Clear sunny days were finally here, so the obvious thing was to bask lazily in the sun.
"No."
Xio took the earring back from Fors's ear. She was just as tempted as Fors, but she understood clearly: the only reason Miss Natasha was willing to give it to her "for free" was because she'd seen Xio's value. Even if she didn't think she was worth that much.
Audrey heaved a disappointed sigh and looked at Bernadette with pleading eyes: "Miss Natasha, are you really sure you don't have a spare?"
"Positive."
In reality, Bernadette still had one Faceless Beyonder characteristic on hand — but Vincent had suggested she keep it for now, in case it came in handy later. His actual idea was to see if they could eventually trade it to Klein through the Tarot Club.
The group chatted briefly before Xio and Fors said their goodbyes and left Audrey's. Much as Fors enjoyed being "kept" by Audrey, she couldn't actually live off someone else indefinitely.
The weeks of Audrey's hospitality already felt like a debt they'd need to repay somehow.
The moment they stepped outside the Hall villa, Xio asked: "Miss Natasha — what do you need from me going forward?"
"I recall you mentioned a while ago that someone from Military Intelligence Nine had approached you, showing interest in the Arbiter formula and materials?"
"That's right."
Xio nodded, her expression dimming slightly. "But… if the Zmangt Party really was taken down by MI9, then I should be on their list of people to silence, shouldn't I?"
"I'd like you to go back to that MI9 contact. Try to get yourself in with them."
Fors immediately stepped in front of Xio: "Miss Natasha — are you sending Xio to her death?"
But Xio had already closed her hand around Fors's. "I can try."
"Xio!"
"Fors, I need to look into some things that can only be found through MI9."
She turned back to Bernadette: "And once I'm in?"
"I don't need you to do anything particularly dangerous. Just pass along the occasional piece of information about what they're doing."
"Alright."
"Be careful. If anything urgent comes up, feel free to pray to me — or even to that other one."
Xio nodded. "I understand."
Bernadette took a step, her silhouette dissolved, and she was gone.
Fors immediately said: "Xio, this is way too risky!"
"I know what I'm doing, Fors. Now come on — let's find a new place to stay."
She raised her hand to flag down a passing carriage, but at that moment she felt her wrist seized in a grip that nearly bent it — she spun around to find Fors chalk-white, legs trembling, barely able to stand.
"What's wrong?"
Fors was staring at the approaching horse with violently shaking pupils. "Horse… horse, I… I'm scared of horses."
She'd finally found out what fear her new side effect had given her.
......
Bernadette didn't go back to the new flat on York Street in the North District — she went straight to the new Aurora Order hideout that Mr. Z had just assembled.
Working there in the daytime, sleeping in the flat at night.
The people here were all of Mr. Z's former subordinates, but they knew this Mr. A was someone even Mr. Z treated with the utmost respect, so they were naturally obedient.
"Mr. A."
One of the attendants approached nervously, expression uncertain.
"Speak."
"Mr. Z had been planning to resume… the gatherings that Mr. A used to hold in Backlund. Now that he's gone off to handle other things… should we continue with the gathering?"
Bernadette raised an eyebrow. These gatherings were too low-level to add meaningful weight to the Scale, but they were still a free opportunity landing right in her lap — no real reason to turn it down.
"Follow his original plan. I'll host it."
"Yes, understood."
The attendant nodded repeatedly: "That would be tonight at 8 PM then."
"That's fine."
Vincent chimed in: "Hey — you know how the Aurora Order causes all kinds of terrorist incidents, horrific rituals, and is hunted down by every nation and Church on sight? Then why, when they need money, don't they just rob a bank or shake down nobles? Why do they hold proper little gatherings and take commissions like a legitimate business?"
In the original, Mr. A had once taken ten thousand gold pounds to assassinate an Intisian ambassador — a strictly professional, no-nonsense transaction.
"Because they've already done far worse things, and robbery would still be wrong?"
The question genuinely gave Bernadette pause. She thought for a moment. "Probably because… in the Aurora Order's view, everything they do — the terrorist attacks, the dangerous rituals — is a 'righteous act' in service of bringing the Master down to earth. Whereas robbing a bank or shaking down nobles is just plain crime?"
"Is that actually how it works?"
"If you're that curious, just ask Mr. Z directly next time you see him."
"More of a passing thought, really."
Bernadette shut her eyes, sank into the sofa. "I'm resting."
......
8 PM.
The Beyonder gathering began on schedule. Most attendees were veterans of Mr. A's previous gatherings — after those meetings had abruptly gone dark, they'd spent a long stretch with money to spend and nothing to buy, things to sell and nowhere to sell them.
There were certainly other gatherings in Backlund, but almost all were relatively discreet, and most Beyonders only knew of one or two.
Leonard, wearing a featureless blank-faced mask, settled into a sofa alongside the others. Out of habit he made a careful sweep of the surroundings first — noting every entrance and exit — then looked toward the man seated on his own sofa at the front, attendants standing behind him.
Mr. A. The Aurora Order's divine emissary.
Not long ago, three major Churches had attempted a joint raid on him. He'd still escaped. After disappearing for a time, here he was again — bold as you like, throwing a Beyonder gathering.
"Old man — so the Church always knew what the Aurora Order was up to? Then why did they keep letting them operate in Backlund?"
Pallez snorted: "Idiot. Kill one Mr. A, there'll be a Mr. B. Kill Mr. B, there'll be a Mr. C. You can't kill the Aurora Order clean. Push too hard and their movements go underground entirely — and then who knows when those lunatics will pull something really big."
"Then why did they raid them last time?"
"They told you didn't they? Because the Church received a tip-off that Mr. A was conducting a descent ritual for an evil god. Turned out to be false, but you can't just ignore that kind of thing."
Leonard was quiet for a moment, still not quite able to accept it. "But the Aurora Order causes atrocities every so often. Letting them live means letting them keep killing innocents."
"That's the calculation people in power make."
Pallez gave a soft laugh. "What — did that shatter your beautiful image of the Church?"
"..."
"Naïve kids like you wouldn't have survived a week in my era."
While Leonard was talking inwardly with Pallez, transactions were underway all around. Same process as before — needs and offers written on slips and passed to the attendants, who mixed them together and handed them to the colleague managing the chalkboard, who posted them up.
"Arbiter and Sheriff potion formulas for sale, price to be negotiated in person…"
Each new listing was read aloud three times. If anyone was interested, they'd discreetly request a private room, and an attendant would facilitate the deal.
Soon an attendant came to Leonard's side. Leonard quickly handed over his written slip. The attendant opened it and visibly did a double-take, then looked at Leonard again as if to confirm, then carried on as if nothing had happened — swept up the remaining slips and passed them along to the colleague at the board. Then he walked over to Bernadette and said quietly: "Mr. A — someone is looking to acquire a Supplicant formula. Do you want to make contact?"
To be continued…
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