Duncan and Hilda emerged from the staircase leading down, looking not much different from how they did when they had first entered The Atelier. Hilda was being unusually silent, so Duncan decided to strike up a conversation.
“The English faefolk and I go way back,” he started, as though he were a grandfather regaling one of his childhood tales. “Helped them sort their civil war back in eighteen twenty-one. Faes live as long as their purpose, you see. They die quickly if they lose it. Deforestation was clearing out the habitat quickly back then, and they couldn’t play around with mortals any longer. So, they resorted to starting a civil war just to keep themselves alive. They ended up killing more of their own kind in a bid to live longer themselves. Pretty ironic, eh?”
“Is that so?” Hilda responded disinterestedly.
“Anyway, long story short. I joined their ranks as a battle chiurgeon for a while until I got sick and tired of all the frantic healing,” Duncan continued. “And as fate would have it, I had a couple of contacts who desperately needed gear to fight their own mystical battles. So I persuaded the faefolk to channel their purpose and existing weapon mastery into being merchants. Their numbers grew after a few decades, and they’ve even taken this street under their care. The homeless people you see? They’re under the fae’s magic protection, even if they don’t know it themselves.”
“Will my mother be alright?” Hilda asked, as though she had not heard a word of what Duncan had just said— he had pretty much gotten used to that by now. “Will she leave me alone again?”
Duncan stopped walking. “Has she done that before?”
The girl looked away. “Yes. All the time. A woman’s place is in the house, as she would always tell me. That’s where we should live and die. That’s our purpose in life. But…”
She turned back to him, her eyes glistening with tears.
“But she doesn’t understand how lonely it is!” Hilda exclaimed. “How… scary it is to have no one to care for you. Mother’s always away with Father, and now she’s going away again! She’s leaving me behind again! I’m… I’m scared, dammit! Father is gone, and Mother is going away too. Why doesn’t anyone want me? Is this what my life is going to be from now on?”
“Hilda, it’s okay. You’ll see her soon,” Duncan lied lamely. “She’ll listen to us, I’m sure of it. And she’ll come back from this poisonous dream.”
Hilda sniffled as a choked chuckle escaped from her.
“I’m not stupid, Duncan. I know you’re just trying to comfort me, but I know my mother well enough,” she said. “How do you do it? How do you live for so many years without family? Without friends to care for you?”
“One day at a time,” Duncan replied after a pause. “One purpose at a time. Purpose is what drives us to live; just look at the faefolk. I’ll let you in on a little secret, alright? Your mother’s the reason why I’ve been volunteering as a battle healer over the centuries.”
Hilda blinked away her tears, her eyes now filled with curiosity. “Truly?”
“Aye.” Duncan nodded. “Remember when I told you that your grandfather used to be a warlord? Your mother never liked it, but she understood the necessity of war to protect her loved ones. So, much to her father’s disapproval, she regularly held medical services to treat the casualties of war, no matter which side they were on. It was only because she was so exposed to the outside world that the witch assassins took their chance to place a curse on her in the first place.”
“Is that why she insists I stay at home all the time?” Hilda mused. “What did you promise her?”
“If she were to pass on early, I’d follow in her footsteps to ease all those who suffered in war. That’s why I have chosen to be a wandering healer, lending a hand in as many wars as I could. That’s my purpose in living, and it’s not changed over the years. Perhaps your mum’s found a new purpose to take a more direct approach to stop disasters from happening.”
Hilda lowered her head. “What is my purpose, then?”
“That is for you to find out, lass. But for now…” Duncan patted her head gently. “How about just being a friend of mine?”
“That’s all?”
“Why not?” He gave her a warm smile. “A purpose doesn’t have to be something grand. And besides, I can be your friend for as long as you live, literally.”
The girl let out a short laugh as she pulled him into a big hug. “That was bloody cheesy, Duncan. But thank you. I’m glad I met you.”
Duncan pulled himself away before they could catch any prying stares from the streets. Seriously, a full-grown adult man hugging a teenage girl in public wasn’t exactly a good look, especially during the much more modern twentieth century. The last thing he needed was more trouble in their way.
The duo had just found a nice, isolated alleyway for Duncan to open a portal when two familiar figures walked out. Hilda was the first to recognise them, her knees buckling under her. Duncan was next, his eyes widening in shock as magic lit up his veins.
And the two strangers were the last to react, clutching their briefcases as they started shouting in Japanese.
They reached into their coat pockets and pulled out their pistols. Duncan was almost surprised; he wasn’t expecting two regular muggers to be toting guns. Still, nothing truly surprised him anymore these days.
With nothing louder than a small hum, the witch dragged the two men towards him by their shadows. One of them stumbled unexpectedly, catching him by pleasant surprise. Duncan grabbed his wrist and twisted the gun out of his fingers.
Hilda screamed as the assailant recovered quickly and lunged at her. Duncan spun around, eyes ablaze with shock and panic, but something invisible repelled the assailant instead. He heaved a silent sigh of relief; the fae’s blessings certainly came in handy.
“Motus Prohibere!”
The unfortunate assailant crumpled to the ground, his body still frozen mid-fall. Duncan quickly rushed forward to shield Hilda and flicked his wrist behind him carelessly. Blue light flashed, accompanied by an electric crack splitting the air.
A yelp rang out, but that was it.
Duncan turned his attention to the other man, who had merely staggered from the magic bolt that whizzed a couple of inches beside him. He furrowed his eyebrows, focusing properly this time.
Calm, he thought. Calm.
The last mugger regained his composure as he snarled, bringing up his pistol again. Sparks fizzled around Duncan’s fingers in response. The mugger squeezed the trigger.
Now!
Duncan’s blue magic bolt struck the bullet head-on. A mini-explosion followed, and his foe staggered back from the blowback. Remnant magic sparks found their way to his body and began zapping him continuously, keeping him paralysed on the floor.
That was easy.
“Who are you?” Duncan asked the two men in perfect Japanese. “What do you want from her?”
They didn’t reply. Or rather, they couldn’t. So, he reached for their briefcases instead, despite their muffled groans of protest.
“Bugger, it’s locked.” Hilda picked up a briefcase as well, fiddling with the combination lock. “Oi, you Japs! Tell me the combination now!”
“No, no. Calm down, lass. Nothing’s ever truly locked.”
A bolt of green light struck Hilda’s case, and the lock began turning by itself. The briefcase opened with a soft click, revealing a thick stack of papers written in Japanese, along with a strange metal device.
Duncan flipped through the papers in the briefcase in his hands, the creases in his forehead deepening with every page he flipped. According to these documents, these guys had somehow defected from the Japanese military. Not only that, but they were spies sending back multiple reports about the Kiseigumo parasite.
His frown was deep enough to house a school of mermaids now. If these people had already defected, why were they still spying in London? Why not just disappear into the public eye and live out the rest of their lives peacefully?
He read on, flipping the pages while keeping a watchful eye on Hilda. The girl was fiddling with a metal device now, since she evidently couldn’t read Japanese.
Bloody hell. Duncan narrowed his eyes at the copies of the telegram sent out. These bastards have been stalking Hilda for months now, ever since…
“Hilda, when did you first find out that your father had been infected by the parasite again?”
“Somewhere in March? Why’d you ask?”
Duncan pursed his lips. The timing was added up.
According to these reports, this group of Japanese soldiers were the ones who infected Bertram Harvey with the parasite and tracked him to observe its effects. After which, they were instructed by someone called ‘General Masao Kubo’ to observe Duncan as well, since he had so carelessly revealed his powers.
As for the metal devices in the briefcases, they were actually sensors attuned to Kiseigumo magic, which meant these human soldiers were also resourceful enough to do some significant paranormal research.
Suspicion pooled in Duncan’s gut. If these soldiers weren’t lying in the report, it didn’t match up with what Yuri claimed. Bertram Harvey wasn’t attacked by the cult but by this extremist Japanese group.
Why would Yuri lie about that?
“Oi, you there.” Duncan turned his attention to the frozen man, whose mouth was finally free to move. “Who’s this Masao Kubo bloke? What does he want with Hilda and me?”
“You’ll regret messing with Japanese people! We’re the strongest!” he gurgled in Japanese.
Duncan decided to change his approach. “What is your mission? Tell me and I’ll unfreeze you before the rats start coming out at night.”
“Shove it up your arse, Westerner!”
Christ, it’s like trying to reason with a gorilla.
Duncan fought down a sigh and turned to the other man instead, who was still being mildly electrocuted every few seconds.
“Were you ordered to kill Bertram Harvey?” He knelt and waved the telegram in the man’s face. “This ‘Masao Kubo’ is your commander, isn’t he? What unit is he from?”
“I… don’t know… who that… is.”
Duncan’s lips pressed themselves into a thin line. Of course this son of a bitch wasn’t going to hang his own people to dry. These stubborn military guys were all the same, defected or not. It was just one goddamn big boys’ club.
“Fine by me.” He stood up and turned to Hilda. “Come, let us make haste to the English Channel before Miguel reaches.”
Hilda blinked. “Wait, what was that about? How about them?”
“Tis none of our concern,” Duncan lied, deciding not to bring up Yuri’s dodgy claims. This was no time to sow suspicion in Hilda. “Just more folk after the Kiseigumo. We need not fuss over this greedy brunch.”
“Okay…” Hilda’s voice was still soaked with doubt, nonetheless. “I trust you— Wait, are we leaving these guys here?”
“Aye, why not? The spells will pass soon.”
“Soon as in how long, exactly? One hour?”
“One day.”
The witch focused his magic into his palms. The English Channel was dozens of kilometres away, but he had already attuned to that place twenty-eight years ago. Teleporting there should be a cinch. He flicked his wrists elegantly as green magic sparks crackled in the air.
A portal burst open in front of him.
Duncan heaved a small sigh of relief as the briny smell of seawater wafted in immediately, accompanied by the sound of crashing waves. Thank god the attunement magic had not expired yet, or he’d have to spend half a day sitting in a train carriage.
The veteran medic looked into the portal with bitter nostalgia. He stepped into it, setting foot on the blemished soil of World War One’s frontline for the second time.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxDBU6hwwsz
and then Add to home screen.