It was Wednesday, remembered Gwenda. She wouldn’t go to the arena even if she wanted to; there were more important things to deal with, but less... enjoyable.
Darcy leaned against the back of the sofa and, without taking her eyes off her own papers, pointed to Gwenda’s table, where more paperwork awaited her. The young woman didn’t hesitate and picked up the papers about the case, scanning through everything they had discovered so far.
A A3 bomb, manufactured only here, but the fairies claimed it came from afar. Flying days and nights. There is no material to be manufactured outside of Carsany, the king doesn’t negotiate these supplies, fearing that certain things might end up being sold in unexpected places, like in the hands of magical beings.
— It’s all here. Every detail I’ve found. I need to talk to them again. — Gwenda noticed heads turning towards her, taking their attention away from their work to understand what was going on in the young woman’s mind before she could even step inside.
Darcy just blinked before speaking:
— Ten minutes, and then get out. — She took five minutes, the same amount of time Gwenda to arrive — This will be your last visit to them, be smart and don’t fuck it all. Someone else will take your place in the interrogation starting tomorrow. Just... leave the fairies to someone else; you’ve messed up enough.
Gwenda thought about grunting and throwing a bunch of truths at her boss but decided to stay quiet and brace for the worst...the worst of the worst, as always.
Only she understood the language of the fairies. Calling someone to take her place should be something difficult, but not impossible. She had interrogated the fairies until her last drop of patience, and when she didn’t get the necessary and received a good spit in the face from one of them...Gwenda didn’t contain herself. Fairies might be small, they might sit on the shoulders of normal people, but their spit was something slimy that took days to come out off if you tried to wipe it off suddenly. But Gwenda, trembling with anger for not getting the answer, absentmindedly wiped her face, forgetting about this small detail.
The slap Gwenda gave to one of the fairies almost killed it, and then the young woman was almost kicked off the case. However, Darcy saved her skin by saying she was necessary in every aspect. The general reluctantly accepted Darcy’s insignificant plea to keep her in the case, to keep her — in almost every way the law allows — as a detective and agent within the case.
Gwenda had hat slime on her face for days, along with a black eye as a consequence of her serious act. So serious that it doesn’t even compare to what the sectors do with mystic beings, she scoffed. The hunt was something Gwenda couldn’t avoid, not entirely.
But none of that mattered no. She was out of the interrogation area for an indefinite period, and she wasn’t sure if she would get anything from the fairies. Nothing else crossed her mind that the things could improve.
On the papers, everything was there, from the type of the bomb, the location, to how many to the first town of the neighboring kingdom. Fairies wasn’t common next to Carsany’s muter, they stay almost in the other side of Telomeron’s kingdom, close to the capital, Canopy Tree. A beautiful name, Gwenda had praised one day while in the library reading books upon books, capturing everything. Everything to be where, at the moment, she has a life.
The A3 bomb could not explode a mutter, that was built thousands of years ago just for three damn fairies to come and destroy a relic. Thank the gods it wasn’t the entire mutter.
Gwenda stared the papers, the name of each dead soldier. Their age resounded in Gwenda’s heart. They were so young. The fairies murdered her people, her race. Even she can’t recognize each face, was still feeling that tightness in the chest, knowing that they are gone. Mystics beings are some fucked up, Gwenda knew that the mutter was not built for a trivial reason.
Was so obvious something like that, but the young woman didn’t want to believe. Couldn’t put the fault in someone of Carsany. Couldn’t do it without proves.
Gwenda descended the stairs to the basement and walked down the corridor, her air swaying down her back. She flung open the iron door, embracing the deafening noise as the door creaked open and closed behind her. She enjoyed seeing the contorted fazes of the fairies. Their ears picked up everything a volume three times louder.
The young woman didn’t care about talk in a normal voice when said:
— Who gave the bomb to you all?
No one of them answer, no one did de little sound.
They were trapped with fairy bindings, small powerful things, holding their entire body and the transparent wings that were barely visible. The three of them had distinct colors. The moss green one had entirely sparkling green eyes; the violet one had bright pink eyes; and the white one, that were slapped by Gwenda, had blue eyes. They all had round heads, pointed ears, and long sharp teeth that could tear the flesh of anyone they bit.
Gwenda looked ate the papers.
— I already got so many things about this incident — she stared the fairies — I can eliminate one of you and stay clean.
They were red with so much angry, and Gwenda boasted with a few seconds.
— I want to know who gave the bomb to you. How could bring this during that hateful days and night that lament so much. Someone were with you and I will discover. — Gwenda blinked — Well, whoever that was helping you all, led you into a ambush.
— We were not deceived. — one of them said, as tedious as Gwenda could be. — He is our ally, not our enemy.
He.
— Good you know that the death is not the worst option to you — Gwenda said.
— We know how humans operate, why do you think we took the risk? — asked one of the edges.
Gwenda was just watching, walking back and forth, the shoulders forward.
We know how humans operate.
It was an echo in her mind, the sound of the puzzle.
— Clearly because are foolish.
— I wouldn’t say foolish.
Gwenda clenched her jaw.
— The bomb — she returned to the subject — We had deaths of almost fifteen soldiers and you three are to blame. — The young woman wanted to make that sentence very clear. — You can’t take a bomb. Can’t explode a mutter and kill people like that.
Unless there were clustered in that specific place.
— We are stronger than the world wants to make you believe. — one of them said.
Gwenda gave a bitter smile.
— If you don’t want one of your tiny fingers out, tell me who helped you. Bomb A3 can’t explode a wall. — And she would keep repeating that until she found the right answer, one that didn’t sound like a lie. — And Carsany is completely protected from magic, nothing enters, and nothing leaves. Your approach to the wall would only weaken you.
One of them smiled. Gwenda’s eyes gleamed.
They used magic, obviously. And for that, something in Carsany that retained those powers allowed it to enter and get closer.
— We are not traitors to our kingdom, human.
Gwenda laughed lifelessly, without lifting the corners of her lips.
— It seems so.
The fairies became irritated, and Gwenda remained away from them while was trying with more and more questions, take something out of them. An useless interrogation, that’s what she was doing.
Could threaten as much as she wanted, but going through with it wouldn’t be possible; she would be dead as soon as she finished with the second fairy head between her fingers. Seeing them beg for death wasn’t pleasing to Gwenda, but considering the situation she was in, it was one of the choices she would be forced to make.
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Gwenda studied each sentence, each word in those papers. A simple and big no was carved in her forehead. It was not possible, nothing that. Once she left that interrogation room and slammed the door with a bang, she hurried to write.
He. They were working with just one.
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We know how humans operate. Which means it is from Carsany and know how things work. Or even it comes from inside of Carvlinea franchise. Because, as the law has always made clear: nothing enters, nothing leaves. Information or people, all confined on the kingdom.
The young woman was called to the lower floor, where weapons training took place. New weapons were scattered everywhere, both blades and fire guns. Darcy didn’t wait long to start discussing with someone about the report of another incident that Gwenda had been kept ou of.
He looked around, locking eyes with a man leaning on a railing, his eyes narrowed in her direction. Gwenda had faced such a look before and never averted her gaze, always accepting the penetrating stares of people, especially from Darcy.
— I heard you found out what really happened at the wall — The man spoke, capturing her full attention.
Gwenda looked at him with hatred. She didn’t know why — and didn’t want to know — the man clenched his jaw, stepping away from the railing, leaving his hands insert by his side, near the gun, ready to do something foolish.
— This is confidential — Gwenda replied in a harsh tone.
— Don’t get involved where you weren’t called, agent. — Darcy retorted, but it was in vain when that same agent drew his weapon from his waist and pointed it at Gwenda.
The young woman did the same, unlocking her gun. One move. One move, and she could end his face, shatter his brain that couldn’t seem to think straight.
— Lower your guns. — Darcy growled — Now.
She didn’t. Not after realizing she had fewer chances of getting out alive. Not just this agent, bur more of them had already prepared to shoot her. Many aimed at him, not because had any familiarity with Gwenda, but because they knew who she was and how much she benefited this sector.
— Gwenda knows everything about mystical beings, knows everything about fairies. Has it never crossed your minds that maybe she’s responsible for the wall explosion?
People became alert. Gwenda didn’t move an inch.
— What’s your name, agent? — The young woman asked.
He narrowed his eyes.
— Ryxer Vannyer, son of...
Son of a bitch, she thought.
— Son of a soldier who died at the wall — Gwenda finished for him.
The young woman’s blood ran cold. He was drawing his own conclusions. Even though Gwenda understood him, in what she’s going through, she didn’t lower the aim of the gun. The bullet would still burry in his forehead if he moved even a bit. The agent seemed to explode with anger.
— She doesn’t have the labeling, can talk to the fairies, always figuring something out and making it seem so obvious that it makes us look like fools.
— It’s a detective job, isn’t it? I’m surprised you’re so amazed. — She replied.
Ryxer grunted.
The label. She’ll have the damn mark tomorrow, whether she likes it or not. Gwenda refrained from reaching for her neck, where hey would probably mark her. It should go from the neck up so everyone could see. Sometimes the wrist was allowed, but it was mandatory to walk with the mark exposed if she didn’t want a more painful one.
— At least you know what you’re insinuating, agent? — Gwenda asked.
— All evidence points to you.
— Enough — Darcy intervened — Tomorrow will be the labeling, don’t have a ridiculous outbreak for something you don’t need to worry about. This case is not yours.
Only the agent dared to say anything.
— When she has the mark, we’ll know what the truth is.
— Not even dead would I allow them to label my body. — Gwenda clenched her jaw. And if she didn’t have full control, she would be trembling with anger right now.
Darcy turned her face to Gwenda.
— You will get the mark, for the good of all.
— Darcy, you know me, I’m not an enemy of Carsany.
— When you get the mark — Darcy repeated — we can move on. Until then, I want you to just find something with the information you have.
The mark meant that she belonged to Carsany, the king’s property, loyal to the king until death, wiling to defend him with her body, bleed for him. But the truth... was that Gwenda would never do that, is she could, she would bury a bullet in her own heart.
— I won’t get mark — Gwenda repeated and heard someone unlocking a gun. Darcy let out a throaty, almost a fake laugh, what the young woman thought it was just to ease the tension around, and touched her shoulder.
— We’ll see.
She knew Gwenda had no other option; he king would be after her. She was the Shooter, a pawn of Carsany that would be useful. And if she didn’t have the mark, he king wouldn’t be secure in the fact that Gwenda wasn’t yet his property. A skilled shooter living in Carsany... he couldn’t let that chance slip away.
Gwenda lowered her gun, and everything seemed clearer, less silent. However, no one else lowered theirs and restrained themselves from trembling when she spoke:
— If you allow me, I’ll go home to look for something about the case. In books.
No one did anything.
— Do it — ordered Darcy — And give me your gun — The woman reached her hand toward Gwenda.
The young woman looked from her hand to her serious face, short and shaved red hair on one side. Gwenda scowled and locked her own gun before placing it in Darcy’s hand. She would be surprised if she could leave here with any kind of weapon to defend herself.
Darcy knew that Gwenda was not the culprit, knew she was more stressed in his case than anyone else, but she had to act as her agents wanted, or they could remove her from power. She didn’t dare make any sudden movements as she moved towards the stairs. Besides the sound of footsteps, she heard everyone locking their guns and whispers. She just prayed that they would dismiss the idea that Gwenda could betray her race.
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It had been a short time since she had run into Louise on her way home. Her friend had the two front strands bleached, white, while the rest of her black hair fell down her back like a wavy curtain. The difference in size between the strands and the rest of the hair was noticeable even from afar.
The slightly slanted eyes were her charm, as well as the full lips. Louise always wore ordinary clothes, and today was no different. A blue and white coat, like blurry spots in a sea, with only four buttons, almost snuggly fitted o her body, and white pants as thin as can be.
Her collarbone and neck were exposed. Gwenda resisted the urge to look at that, at what Louise belonged to. She clenched her teeth.
— Kimer told me you’ve been a bit... hard. I came to have ice cream with you.
Gwenda rolled her eyes. Of course, Kimer told Louise.
— Aren’t you busy with other things? — she asked.
— The king knows I came to meet you; he accepted right away. — Of course. — By the way, there’s something you need to know. — Louise fell silent for a moment — Rubben expects you to attend the Sunday games. I said I couldn’t speak for you, but that I would find a way to talk with you.
— I want nothing about Rubben, I don’t know why he still bothers. He’s wasting his time.
— That would be a great opportunity, Gwen.
— Opportunities for...
— Your career. — Louise crossed her arms. — I heard you defeated Courvin last night, everyone heard. Even Rubben saw another opportunity when you kept refusing the king all these times.
Gwenda laughed scornfully.
— If I refuse the king, Rubben is as deluded as I though.
— Gwen, he hired a Hunter to go after an Antropóles. A Hunter. Do you even know how much you must pay to be able to hire one of those?
Antropóles. Creatures called a second soul, a second chance. They chose who deserved that second chance, and Gwenda couldn’t decide if she found it absurd or not. After all, they deserved it.
— No more than the amount the king offered me. — Gwenda replied to nothing in particular as she looked around, perhaps trying to find a way to escape this conversation.
— The damn thing came back with its head severed. The king didn’t take long to hire him too. And everyone in this deal got rich. Rubben started getting paid for doing this kind of work, paid by the king to eliminate threats in Carsany since he had contact with many capable and experienced individuals. That’s how Rubben created the squad he has now.
— Louise, I don’t need help deciding whether to accept one or the other, okay? And you’re helping Rubben, not me. If Rubben could get me into his sitthy squad, do you think it would take long for the king to take advantage of the opening I’m giving him? Rubben works for the king. I’m out.
They reached Gwenda’s house and entered without further delay, closing the door with a brief this and locking it from the inside.
Louise sighed as she went to the fridge, opening it and starting to look for food. Gwenda wasn’t hungry, even though she caught a glimpse of Louise grabbing a slice of pizza she ordered yesterday on the way home to enjoy alone the small victory in the arena.
Gwenda observed her friend, scanning every inch until stopping at her neck. The mark was red, as if irritated, as if Louise has scratched it. She and Kimer had been marked. Serving the king with blind eyes. That’s what it was about. A horse with the symbol of their origin, their ranch. Like Gwenda’s horse has.
A wave of sadness passed through Gwenda, and her hands trembled as she crossed her arms, looking down at the floor. The Knights took people in the last month of the year, where they were sure someone in the city must have turned 18 by then. Hose who appeared to be older were reviews to ensure they were labeled. Walking around the city with each person’s documents.
The Branding Officer simply did his job of making people’s skin with a long metal rod, hot enough to reach the bone.
It was a planned mess in the skin, the symbol of Carsany and the king’s initials, not to mention a tiny circle with a C inside, from Carsany, as if the seal of a beetle wasn’t enough. Gwenda and everyone from Carsany were under the command of the king, and the label was another way to make it official.
The young woman felt stupid for entering that arena, showing her skills in a kingdom that sought people like her. But she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the arena, for the fractions of gold she received just for winning ridiculous and easy competitions.
The most repugnant thing was knowing she would have a mark that meant nothing to her but signified something despicable. Gwenda wouldn’t be loyal to a man just because a label claimed she legally belonged to him.
This denial of the mark scared her because she knew well that she couldn’t escape tomorrow without killing someone because they wouldn’t give up unless she rebelled. Having Carsany’s stamp, from the king himself, was like wanting to have remained with the rope around her throat and her feet swinging in agony.
Gwenda would have reached for her gun, but she knew it wasn’t there anymore. So, she let out a trembling sigh and headed towards her room with the intention of changing and appending the rest of the afternoon talking to Louise.
Darcy knew the young woman would deny this branding to the death. And if she still had the gun... she could defend herself more easily. Her boss jut took away another form of defense to make sure she wouldn’t win this fight.