Chapter 20
Fraud?
Good for King George that he’d been able to sleep. He’d managed to put the fear of the Enemy in me with that one little word. What exactly did the King know about me? Had I just been knighted to be an example to the remains of the United Kingdom? Or, was it his way of getting me alone and scaring me straight?
Plus, if a monarch who kept complaining about his lack of power could learn about me, who else could look into me?
Not that it was even clear what he even thought I was. Demonkin? Holy Brother? Demon? Father Below, what a tangled web I’d woven.
Plus, there was still the mystery of Wendy. She was clearly Fera’s agent, but what was my old paramour’s game in North Ireland? I should probably inform somebody that there were demonkin running around in the UK remnant, but I had no idea what I’d actually be reporting. I couldn’t even name names; Dante wasn’t the Aussie’s real name, instead being his chosen daemonym.
So, I mostly stayed quiet, avoiding the press and making a show of looking sad when I was forced to be seen in public.
Hell, Mr. Maki was taking Wendy’s death harder than me. He did actually manage to goad me into one of his workouts as an excuse to get us alone. The hotel had a small gym, which he managed to sweettalk into reserving in its entirety. I think he was irritated that I could keep up with him; the old showboat’s ego was unbelievable at times.
We spent a bit of time on small talk, and I almost thought he’d simply wanted a spotter. Then he just had to make things heavy…
“What they did to Ms. Bailey was malpractice,” he said. “She was clearly too ill for all of that excitement. King George as good as killed her.”
“Did they ever decide on a cause of death?” I asked.
He shook his head, taking a moment away from his bench press. “No, and that’s the strange part. Wait, how do I know this and you don’t?”
“I didn’t care to check my phone this morning,” I said. “So please, continue.”
He nodded. “The coroner’s office can’t identify any particular organ failure. ‘Shockingly good condition for somebody who had gone through that trauma’, they said. It’s as if the spirit suddenly left her.”
I stayed mum about what I’d seen. “She seemed so delighted to be there, though. At least she died happy.”
“Bah!” His brow furrowed and he started pumping iron again, faster than before. “That’s just coping. The glass is not half full this time. Who cares if she was happy? If they’d waited to knight you until you’d finished your basic training, she might have recovered. Then she could have had more than one happy night. King George chose his public relations over the health of a half-dead girl, and she paid the price.”
It dawned on me that it was just as well he hadn’t gone with me to visit King George. He hadn’t been annoyed at not being invited; he’d wanted to give the monarch a piece of his mind.
“Well, there’s no benefit in playing the blame game now,” I said. “Coping is all we can do.”
“And I’m sick of it!” Mr. Maki stopped his pumping, and I realized he’d overdone it in his rage. I helped him settle the weight back into place. “Sick of friends turning out to be enemies, of lost battles, of being helpless on the sidelines while you save the day. Some hero I am!”
“Shall I lose on purpose next time?” I asked.
Dark Lord’s teeth, I swear he was about to smack me for that comment. Instead, he cast a Subdermal Heal spell on his triceps. “You’re lucky I’m not running your boot camp, Mr. Marlowe. You’d forget how to not do pushups for that remark.”
Stolen story; please report.
“Probably,” I conceded. “Still, it’s not like the Horde is going to surrender tomorrow. There’s going to be a lot of chances for you to get your pound of flesh.”
He nodded once. “Oh, I’m sure.” He let out a long sigh. “What I need, Marlowe, is an enemy I can punch in the mouth.”
It really was a pity I didn’t know anything useful about Dante, then. “There’s no shortage of mouths in need of a good punch out there, sir. If I’m able, I’ll even hold them down for you.”
Mr. Maki’s expression softened before he burst out laughing, his booming voice echoing all through the small gym. “Thank you, that made me feel better. Though, when they interview you for the tell-all book in twenty years, you can leave that little outburst out.”
“Of course, sir.”
Clearly I’ve broken that promise a dozen times over by now, but if I’ve had to tank my reputation in these Confessions, why should the Divine Blade escape the same fate? He has enough fawning hagiographies as it is.
*****************
Wizard Corps Installation 17B, Niigata Prefecture, Japan
Friday, December 16nd, 2050
It was a relief to finally return to Japan, and a minor miracle that I managed to avoid having to give a statement to the press about Wendy’s death. It only seemed to drive them crazier, but the Wizard Corps intervened. The official statement was that I was in a period of mourning, even as I was shuttled back into the mountains again to resume my training.
As always, there was the public history and the private truth.
I didn’t arouse as much interest from the locals upon my return, aside from a few polite inquiries in my texts and emails about granting an interview to such and such a newspaper or website. I declined, of course, but I felt a little bad about it.
It was a relief when I surrendered my phone to Mr. Lahlou at the train station. I just wanted to put the strange incident behind me.
I’d arrived in the middle of the morning combat training, and it was like nothing had changed. Sergeant Lakhdar was sitting at the edge of the training area, taking notes with a strange, inkless pen on a large tablet.
Mr. Lahlou scanned the freshly-defrosted training field. The other cadets were occupied in their own sparring matches. “You had better report in.”
“Where are you off to?” I asked, noticing he was going back out the way we came.
“I’m in the middle of a sensitive project,” he said. “You might find out more about it soon enough.”
Well, that was certainly ominous. I nodded, though. “Thank you for the ride, sir.” He didn’t seem as fragile as Mr. Maki, but I didn’t want to build up any resentment from the fabricata master.
“Any time,” he said, before beating a hasty retreat.
Deciding to go for maximum formality, I strode up to the sitting drill sergeant and saluted. “Cadet Soren Marlowe, reporting for duty, ma’am!”
Sergeant Lakhdar looked up from her work and gave me a once over. She went back to her note taking soon enough. “Funny, you don’t look like a knight.”
“The armor’s in my other suitcase,” I said, before I could remember the first night at the facility. “Oh dear, was that speaking out of turn?”
She shook her head. “If I greet you with a joke, it’s only fair to reply in kind. Let’s get down to business, though. Have you slept?”
“Some, ma’am,” I said. “Even if I hadn’t, I would love a distraction.”
She nodded. “Yes, we watched the news reports.”
I cocked my head. “Wait, you did? Aren’t we supposed to be cut off.”
“Of course,” she said, a slight smirk playing at the edge of her lips. “You suddenly disappearing was all anybody could talk about for days, and then we got the report you were being knighted. There might have been a riot if I hadn’t let them.”
I gulped at that. “Then they know all of the details.”
“You’ll have to compare notes with the others,” she said. “I was too busy to watch more than a few minutes’ worth. Someone has to run this place, don’t they?”
Another gulp. I’d have to wait to find out how awkward the conversations would be. “What shall I do for now? Everybody else is already paired up.”
“You’re just in time, actually,” she said. “We were about to have a break and change dancing partners. Cover your ears.”
I’d learned not to ask unnecessary questions of the drill sergeant, and my hands flew to my ears just before she blew a piercing note on her whistle. “Form up, cadets!”
She had them well trained; everybody stopped their sword duels and organized themselves in neat rows in front of us.
They’d also been focused on their tasks, completely missing my arrival. The reactions were more or less what I’d expected; Hiro and Kowalski clearly happy, Yukiko giving me a reserved nod, Kiyo glaring daggers my way, a flirty grin from Gabriella Hernandez (which was not welcome) and general acknowledgement from the rest.
Mariko drew the lion’s share of my attention, though. I’d been gone a little less than a week, but my heart skipped a beat when I saw her again. She was breathing hard from her exertions, and I could just make out the shimmer around her upper torso showing that Shield of Heaven had been a hit.
When she spotted me, the ghost of a smile died on her lips, only to be replaced with a cutting look of disappointment. Our Father Below, it wounded me more than Kiyo’s outright hostility.