Sahro glanced at Milena's list, before sighing and giving it back to Glenn. The Black Heir leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with tiredness.
"So, to make it short, Mint-Lady as you name her is a Noble from the Court," Glenn nodded, inviting Sahro to continue, "...and she holds the answers for an investigation you're conducting that would reward you a recommendation from the Gold Church, which pretty much is a red carpet to the Bourgeoisie?" The Black Heir ruffled his hair, a lost look on his face.
"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Glenn confirmed with composure, his fingers interlocking together. He crossed his right leg over his left, smiling silently while waiting for his friend to digest all the information.
Sahro leaned forward, scratching the fine fuzz on his chin, lost in thoughts.
"But even if she is a Noble, what use would she have in your investigation...?"
Glenn's smile widened as if he was waiting for this question.
"Well, the information I need is locked behind a requirement: being part of the Bourgeoisie. And guess who's part of an even higher rank?" The young man closed his eyes, waiting for Sahro to answer.
"Milena... So you just need to catch her and you're up a Circle? Damn it, and here I thought I was pretty fast..." The Black Heir stared at the ground with crestfallen eyes, making Glenn chuckle.
"Y'know, just born different. Anyway, you're up to help me?" Glenn held his hand toward Sahro, smiling with all his teeth, a smile strangely reminiscent of the one often appearing in his left hand...
"Yeah, Sahro, just help us, bro! It's going to be fun!" Diamanes suddenly exclaimed aloud, making the two humans jump in surprise. Sahro clenched his teeth, before shaking his head dejectedly and clapping Glenn's hand.
"What can you do without me, anyway? So, what are we starting with?" The Black Heir asked, the hint of a smile appearing on the corner of his lips. It seemed like he wasn't too displeased with having to work again with Glenn. It had indeed been a long time, after all.
Glenn slapped his thighs before pushing himself up from his seat.
"First, I need to check with Reginald. I have some new information, after all," He smiled wryly, as he showed the door to Sahro. The Black Heir looked back at him with an amused gaze, before exiting the room.
"I'm getting kicked out of my room..."
The two then headed for the Main Hall, and entered the reserved hallway, before entering the Gold-rank secret room. Glenn couldn't bring Sahro with him to the Black-Gold one, and he wasn't going to just leave him hanging there.
There were quite a few Fixers gathered up this time, with a new request being the reason for the crowd. The two young men were enticed to take a look, but they resigned themselves as they approached the bar. Their mission was to get Giselle's grandson back, and the Gold Church's request was the fastest way to get to him. Or at least to get in the Bourgeoisie by itself.
The barmaid arrived with a towel wrapped around her left arm, flashing a warm and bright smile toward them.
"What can I serve you, gentlemen?"
Glenn and Sahro looked at each other before the two took out their ID/daggers and placed them on the bar. The barmaid's eyebrow twitched when she saw the delicate black-gold one, but she didn't say anything. Glenn cleared his throat, before leaning on the bar.
"We need to meet with Reginald. It's about the Gold Church's request," He whispered, trying to keep the conversation private. The lady nodded politely, smiling, before serving them two jugs of ale. She then turned on her heels and disappeared into the employee-restricted zone, leaving the two to quench their thirst.
Sahro loomed over the black-gold dagger and shook his head dejectedly. Glenn took a sip of his ale and chuckled slightly.
"Don't worry, you'll get yours soon enough. They didn't have a choice but to give it to me because I've been embroidered in so much bullshit these past days," The young man tried to comfort his friend, apparently without success as the Black Heir downed his jug as if it was water.
"I don't doubt it, Glenn. I don't doubt it..." He muttered, his eyes lighting up when a figure came out of the shadows. A classy barman with an equally elegant top hat took out two crystal clear glasses, filling them with an amber-colored beverage.
The barman tipped his hat with a wide smile, making his mustache bounce graciously.
"How can I help you, gentlemen?"
Glenn saluted Reginald with a nod, as did Sahro.
"I gathered new information on the victim, but I need your help," The young man didn't beat around the bush as directly said what he needed.
"The Gold-rank Fixer Milena knows something about the victim. When I tried asking her about it, she left while fighting me off and disappearing god knows where. Help me find her," Glenn asked, making the glass of seemingly whisky turn in his right hand.
Reginald frowned and crossed his arms together.
"...I'm afraid I won't be able to help you on that side. Due to... certain reasons, we are unable to follow this particular Fixer. What is she supposed to know?" The gentleman asked with a curious look, rapping the counter of the bar with his fingers.
Glenn smiled, but he was dying inside. The truth was that he wanted to find Milena to understand why the hell she would destroy Exan's book, and what was the use of passing the Test? There was no doubt she was a noble of the Court, or at least was born from one, but the rest remained confusing to Glenn. Her link to the victim? None whatsoever. But, he had a looming suspicion that the rose tattoo the victim had imprinted on his neck was a body enchantment, the same Exan described in his book, alongside those runes of his...
'Shit, the runes!' Glenn swore in his mind, clenching his teeth and trying his best to look calm. He had to check out what his fellow Earthling had hidden in that book, and the sooner, the better. But with the chase and fight with the other bitch, he almost forgot about them.
"...For now, I can't pronounce myself. They are only suspicions, and I'm not going to give you false hopes. Too bad you can't help me with finding her, but I'll be working on it," Glenn tasted the whisky, finding it quite strong, while not destroying his palate or numbing his senses entirely. It was enjoyable to drink, too bad it was missing some ice cubes.
"The only worthwhile lead is that tattoo of a rose on his neck. But besides that, I feel like I'm going to need to track him back to where he came from, somehow..." The young man placed his glass on the counter, looking at Reginald with curious eyes.
"What I don't understand in this mess, is that this guy was sleeping in the Silver-rank Dormitory. He had to have some kind of ID to become a Fixer, isn't that right?"
The gentleman remained silent for a minute, filling himself a glass slowly and conjuring some ice cubes in it. The corner of Glenn's lips twitched.
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'Uh, so you have the right to ice cubes, but we don't?'
Reginal took a sip of the alcohol, closing his eyes for an instant. Finally, he placed his glass next to Glenn's and took out a file from his vest, handing it to the young man.
Sahro leaned in, reading the document alongside Glenn.
Name: UNKNOWN
Age: ~20 (inferred from the corpse)
Rank: Silver (inferred from where he was sleeping)
Grade: Knight (inferred from the corpse)
Origin: UNKNOWN
Notes: Files were erased during a transport error.
"An error of transport?" Glenn asked aloud, his eyes wide open. This is way too stupid, no way.
"Is that even possible?" Sahro followed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Reginald sighed loudly, unscrewing and screwing on the lid of the bottle with maniacal movements.
"Of course not. It's just a lousy excuse, not even bothering to hide that someone tampered with the files," The gentleman gave one last look at the bottle, before placing it back alongside the others lining up behind him.
"A mole?" Glenn supposed, lowering his voice instinctively. Sahro perked his ears up and leaned forward with attention.
'Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer' Diamanes added in Glenn's mind while imitating the godfather's voice. It was so out-of-context and surprised the young man he had to cough awkwardly to try and repress the swear in his throat.
"Yes, a mole. I'm looking for them intently, alongside a few trustworthy colleagues, but I have my work cut out for me..." The gentleman leaned on the bar, hiding his face in his hands. The two young men let their senior regain his spirit, waiting patiently. Reginald finally rose his head up and slapped his hands together.
"Since I can't help you on Milena's side, I'll at least give something to make it up to you," The beautiful barmaid reappeared from nowhere with a small lacquered casket. Reginald thanked her, taking it off her hands. He then opened it and turned the open box toward Glenn and Sahro. There was a medal in the form of a shield, made out of white metal while covered with a blood-colored cross. In the middle of the cross, a small pearl the size of a fingernail was there, colored dark with a red flame burning in it.
It formed a particular pattern, the emblem of the Cleaner's Workshop.
"That's the Blood Cross medal. It's an honor given to the most meritorious Fixers to give them access to Cleaners privileges, mostly for investigations," Reginald's gaze lingered on the medal for a few seconds, before he continued his explanation, "It gives you power at the level of a constable. Don't abuse it, or I'll have to take it back."
'Shit, is that my fucking police badge?' Glenn whistled aloud, impressed with the craftsmanship of the item. Sahro looked at it as well but soon ended up uninterested, instead playing with his glass with boredom. All those talks made him quite sleepy.
Glenn picked up the emblem and pinned it on his chest. It looked pretty good, and strangely, made him proud. He then looked at Sahro, who was leaning on the counter and gestured his head silently toward him. Reginald's eyelids twitched, and a few minutes later, both young men exited the room with the Blood Cross medal pinned on their chest.
"It–admittedly–looks pretty good," Sahro forced out, trying hard not to smile. Glenn gave him a thumbs-up, smiling with all his teeth.
"With such an impressive sign of power, you'll only bring even more women to your feet!" The almost gloating Sahro suddenly paled in fright, and he took the medal off, slipping it into his pocket.
'What kind of experience did he live through that he became so traumatized?' Diamanes couldn't help but ask, bemused by this strange scene. Glenn shrugged, not lingering on the questions.
There were simply things you should never ask a man.
Glenn opened his hand, counting the things he had to do aloud.
"First, we keep on with the investigation. We need to figure out who the hell is the Thorn's Church's victim," His thumb opened, "...but to do that, we need to find Milena, who's probably gone far and beyond. It wouldn't surprise me if she left the city entirely, or went up a Circle. We'll have to check out with the Watchers," His expression darkened, and he smiled dejectedly.
"They'll probably answer all our questions once we put a little something in their pockets..." He muttered, Sahro nodding in agreement. He opened another finger, before continuing.
"We can try and check with the neighbors or teammate of the victim, to see what they could say about him that could help us," His major shot up, and Sahro nodded again, before adding something.
"We could use the occasion of checking with these dirty guards if the man in question came from outside the city, and when he did so," While talking, the Black Heir's expression changed into an excited one, the enlightenment of a great idea shining in his green eyes.
"Hey! In Milena's list, there is the test of the Fields! Maybe the information about him is locked because he's a Court child, which would make sense since Milena's information also is!" Sahro turned toward Glenn proudly, smiling with all his teeth.
"One arrow, to birds!" Glenn watched him with a curious gaze, pleasantly surprised by his friend's recommendations.
"These...are great ideas. Let's do that!" The young man nodded, smiling back at Sahro.
The first thing they decided to cross out of the list was the neighbors/teammates. That shouldn't take too long, and it might bring new elements. On those thoughts, they headed for the Silver-ranked floor of the Dormitories. When they arrived, they chanced upon quite the particular situation. There was a small waist-level table installed in the middle of the hallways, and two people were on each side of the table, looking at each other with defying eyes.
Around the two was gathered a jolly crowd, often traversed by someone who seemed to be taking bets. Glenn rubbed his glabella, his annoyance visible on his face.
"Of course today had to be that day..." He sighed loudly and crossed his arms together as he entered the crowd with Sahro. The latter turned toward Glenn with puzzlement.
"What's going on? Are they going to fight or something?" Sahro asked, curious. Glenn shook his head and only nodded toward the table.
"See for yourself," The young man then turned his head to the side, and poked a random stranger's shoulder. A man smoking a thick cigar with a bushy black beard turned around, smiling once he recognized Glenn. The latter's eyes widened, and he smiled back.
"Wow, I didn't expect you to be there, Glenn. Aren't you a Gold rank already? What are you doing with us peasants?" The bearded man with an ironic tone, breathed out a cloud of smoke in Glenn's face. The young man opened his arms helplessly, before gesturing toward the table.
"You know what they say, Darek. Once you get used to it, you can't live without it!" The bearded man, Darek, burst out in laughter, before taking another puff of his cigar. He turned back toward the table, lost in thoughts.
"...What are your bets, this time Glenn? Tell me quickly, you often seem to know who will be the winner."
Glenn studied the two participants. One was a ferocious fellow named Stonehead, a muscle-brain who used a sledgehammer as his main weapon. He never managed to go past the Squire stage and had already stayed in the Silver rank for a few years. He was there before Glenn arrived in the Cleaner's Workshop, and he'll probably still be once the young man leaves the organization. He had earned his nickname during a similar competition, one where you needed to break stones with your head. He was the big winner, with little competition, and accomplished what probably was his greatest achievement.
A fun fellow, as long as you didn't drink with him. Glenn rubbed his chin, before turning toward Darek.
"Does he still headbutt people after five shots?" The young man asked, pondering. Darek nodded slowly, before adding clicking his tongue.
"He's been training for this event for three months straight. His last defeat gave him quite the aftertaste, from what I heard," Darek stopped the kid from picking up the bets, and threw a dozen silver coins in the spot for Stonehead. The kid hurriedly wrote the number on a paper and gave the ticket to Darek.
"Oh, so you didn't even wait for my advice?" Glenn asked, the corner of his lips rising slightly. Darek shook his head, pointing a mocking finger at Stonehead's opponent.
"I mean, did you even take a look at his opponent?" The bearded man blurted out, exasperation transpiring in his voice.
Standing in front of Stonehead was a small man, barely reaching Glenn's shoulders, his arms crossed and with a smile made out of rotten teeth. He looked arrogant and had a burn scar on his bald head that went down to his neck, all the way to the base of his shoulders. He looked chunky and had flaps of fat under a barely holding leather vest.
'Did that man get grilled or something? Who would want to eat that?' Diamanes exclaimed, making Glenn close his eyes shut.
'What did that guy even do to you for you to roast him like this?' Glenn questioned sincerely, exasperated. Diamanes' voice froze in his mind, before bursting into laughter.
'Hahaha, "roasted", well done!'
Glenn gave up on trying to reason with Diamanes and waited for the event to begin.
A referee blew a whistle, and the sound coming from the crowd dimmed down. The two men glared at each other, before grabbing their opponent's chin. The referee approached the table with a wobbly step, his cheeks flushed red.
"The rules are-hic-simple. The first one who laughs, or stops staring, loses," The referee began, filling his already dry throat with some cheap wine. Sahro nodded as if it were nothing, strangely disappointed.
"It looks like a kid's game. I thought there would be something a bit more...?" Glenn shushed him and gestured at the referee, who wasn't finished talking.
"Hic, the loser has to endure a slap. The one standing at the end-hic-wins!" The referee yelled tipsily, and the crowd roared in excitement.
And soon enough, the silence reinstalled itself. The game had begun.