blueteamnovel 771. Beneath The Capital
771. Beneath The Capital
771. Beneath The Capital
The actual battle of Frontier was but one component of the war in the Bellum Empire. Woven between the chaos were Gerina’s loyal forces.
They were tasked with three things: gather evidence of corruption to find out who was on her side, capture political figures tied to the conspiracies against her, and finally to evacuate as many souls as possible to designated safe zones.
One of these safe zones was the harbor deep beneath the Capital.
Despite it being in the Underflow it did not see an attack by either the Impuritas or the Sins. The appearance of the Ark had prevented the Sins from leaking too close to the Capital, but in the next few hours it would not surprise anyone if monsters started to appear in the waters.
Thousands were kept underground in similar areas. They turned them into makeshift fortresses as they clutched onto what little possessions they could bring. Most of it was just the clothes on their backs. Mothers cried out the names of missing children, and fathers scoured through the crowds in search for them.
Debris that had fallen into the streets during their evacuation left many wounded. There were no Healers to help them, aside from a sparse number of healing potions taken from the ship’s cargo.
It was a different kind of chaos sparked by war; a kind that destroyed the civility of society. However, Gerina’s forces were ready for this development. They instilled authority before anyone could even think of taking leadership, and this was done in partnership with a familiar group.
“Impuritas, but they’re not the bad kind.” Deiman commented as he read the stats of an Objet D’Art member. “We don’t have enough supplies for everyone here... I didn’t know it was possible to create things with magic.”
Objet D’Art Impuritas created long rolls of cloth with their magical brushstrokes. Splints, braces, and even beds were supplied by them. They shone like a beacon of light amidst their darkest moment, gifting the citizens whatever they needed. Of course, this was as long as it wasn’t a consumable item.
Magical paint was unfortunately inedible. At least for everyone besides the Amalgam.
Ladders of light would shine above the heads of missing children. The name of the child was then written clearly for their parents to see like a star in the night sky. Though the Objet D’Art was far from strong, they made up for it in utility and in heart.
They were a humanitarian group if anything. A glint of light shimmered in Deiman’s yellow eyes as he wondered why they were called impurities instead of something more fitting.
“Hello? Deiman? Are you listening? You didn’t think it was possible to create stuff like this with magic? Huh?” Autumn murmured, grabbing Deiman by the collar as they brushed through the crowd.
She did so with urgency, her eyes darting left and right.
“Magic is the ability to manipulate the world around us. Mana is the medium that lets us do it. I don’t want to hear that you didn’t know that. I get your memories are screwed up, but don’t kid yourself. Magic is everything.”
She complained, not meaning to say this with such edge. However, the situation called for it. But it wasn’t because of the chaos around them. Autumn had lived through this same scene throughout her life across multiple cities.
The difference here was that these people had never experienced the normality of Grandis. Autumn didn’t know whether that made it more tragic or not.
She made a face that said: “This is normal.”
Loss was so ingrained into her that it was the reason why she didn’t want Deiman to stick around her in the first place. Not only that, but she had also lost her family as a child in a similar setting.
This was why Autumn was so riled up, because there was a member that they were also missing.
“Have those ears heard anything!? Mae’s voice should be distinctive enough to spot her! Tch... Where did she go? Deiman, stick close to me too!”
Autumn was uncharacteristically clingy ever since Deiman saved her. But Mae’s disappearance only exacerbated this side of her. The cold exterior she showed them melted away, revealing an Autumn that Deiman couldn’t help but want to protect.
She never let Deiman’s collar go. If her hand slipped, then she’d quickly grab another fistful of his shirt.
“I should’ve kept an eye on her. Stupid. She even said she came here to find her friends...” Autumn trailed off as the two arrived at a secluded section of the harbor.
A frustrated Autumn was at wits end. Searching for Mae outside of the harbor without a trail would likely get them killed.
However, the two were greeted by a rather familiar face.
“Via?”
A fellow Patron of the Highways emerged from the shadows. Again, Autumn and Deiman found themselves in a vacant part of the harbor. The blue-haired woman appeared in a white cloak, carrying a Script in her free hand.
“Autumn.” Via nodded.
An elated face formed on Autumn’s face. She drew close and was about to throw her arms around her for an embrace.
“What are you doing here!? Via it’s been so long–!?”
But something stopped her. The sound of heavy, grinding steel caused her to freeze in place as a pair of eyes emerged from the darkness.
“Via, I would hate to kill a newly appointed Herald for transgression. The Script deems that there can be no physical contact with ‘cherished’ ones for the next 50 hours.”
A massively draped figure followed Via like a bodyguard. It carried a colossal blade behind their back, making them appear larger than they were. The entity’s purple shade of flesh chilled Autumn’s to the core almost as much as her prophetic voice.
“Ah. The season and the fox. I imagined you to be more sacral. Your lance makes up for it, but I am appalled.” The entity spoke.
“A Missionary... of Act X.” Deiman uttered.
“Yours truly sent to deliver you the Will of the Scripts, by the Will of the Scripts... From the very mouth of our beloved Living Loom – Oh Beholder Marionette, our blessed benefactor.” Her oracular mannerisms went beyond that of even the Clockwork Prophet.
This being was something greater than it, and they were unafraid to revel in it, so long as the Scripts did not order them against it.
“I... have no intention of joining –!”
“No one said anything about joining. It is up to you whether you heed the words of the Script or not. Our role is to simply recite its contents to you. You will judge whether it is worthy of your time.” Via quickly interrupted.
Though they were close friends, Via spoke like they were complete strangers. Her eyes were hollow, and her tonality was like that of a monotone puppet.
It was as if the very life of her was sucked dry, leaving behind an empty husk.
She was just like the old Deiman.
“Hear it well.” Via continued as the Missionary slowly moved in the direction of the crowd. “The contents involve a musician you may want to find. A Maestro of some kind. Has that gotten your attention now?”
Autumn gulped, but it seemed that they came with good intentions. If the Amalgam was the Head of the Nexus...
Then that means she’s their boss, right?
Clinging onto this thought, Autumn nodded at a curious Deiman.
“What does it say?”