Gilder

I always blessed with a talent for screwing up, and cursed with an even greater talent for running from my own mistakes. But I guess nothing lasts forever, and laziness trumps talent—because things were finally catching up to me. Carr is gonna find out sooner or later. Is he gonna kill me for it? It wasn’t really my fault, but I had made a mockery of his friend’s memory. Had Carr noticed that whenever I tried to make him less angry I was mimicking Jack’s behaviour? Fucking hope not, because even I didn’t notice. There’s something to be said about being a natural coward. I didn’t even realize what I was doing somethings, just always taking the path of least resistance…

“I’m such a fuckup,” I muttered.

“Sure you are,” a familiar voice said, “but that’s hardly news, is it now? So don’t go getting depressed over it.”

I had been walking around the pier just near were our ship had become attached to the Arcship—too afraid to even go far form it. It had been raining, but I didn’t mind. Felt like I could use some alone time. Hadn’t expected to find anyone out here with a weather like this. Especially not him. “Max?”

He smiled. Oh god, he smiled. Just like the last time I saw him. It was like time had stopped. “It’s been a while,” said Max. His voice sounded cocky, confident, like it usually did…but it nearly cracked at the end, and his green eyes were a nostalgic sight. He was nearly crying and I knew I wasn’t much better.

“Yeah,” I replied. “It has.”

Both of us ran at each other, arms open wide for a hug—then quickly shifted into swift punches at each other’s faces, both connecting at the same time. “YOU WERE GONE—”

“YOU DIDN’T CALL ME WHEN YOU NEEDED A CHAMPION FOR YOUR TRIAL?”

We fought and argued for minutes, glorious minutes. It wasn’t anything too fancy. Our swords were never drawn and our stats were never used. Even during the worst of our punches, we were still smiling, and at the end it was as if we had never been apart at all. “Wish you had drawn your sword,” Max told me at the end. “Want to see how strong you got.”

“What are you talking about? You know how low my stats are, I could never—”

Max held up his hand to stop me. “Look, I’m not proud of this, but I was hiding in the corridor while you and your friend confronted Reven. Thought I’d interfere if you tried to do something dumb. I heard…I heard about the whole Jack business. I…I didn’t know Johan was doing that.”

Ah. You know the feeling when your most humiliating secret gets exposed to the person you least want to find out? No? Consider yourself lucky then. It was a sinking feeling and the only thing comparable to it was when the guards arrested me for forging the Emperor’s will. My first instinct was to lie, to deny that my past was so pathetic, but when I opened my mouth to do so, I saw Max’s eyes and my words died at my throat.

“I’m sorry,” Max muttered. “After I left for Earth, you…you took up that job in the palace, yeah?”

“Felt like the right thing to do,” I replied. It took some effort but I managed to look away from his eyes. “Didn’t think Master Reven would ever pay attention to me more than any of the other junior blacksmiths and you were gone. Didn’t think I had anything left tying me there. Thought I could just take the job at the palace and…I don’t know, retire to the middle of nowhere after. Be alone where my fuckups couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

There was a silence. “I’m sorry,” said Max, somewhat awkwardly. “If I had told you where I was going—”

“Yeah. But if I hadn’t been such an idiot…” I shook my head. “What’s done is done. You must have had your reasons for not telling me.”

Max drew a deep breath. “That’s the worst part. Not really. I was just obsessed with going back and I thought that if I saw you again, you’d convince me to stay here.”

“I would never have told you to do that.”

“Never said you would. But I know myself. If I had to look you in the eye and tell you where I was going… .” Max started to laugh but stopped himself, instead shaking his head and smiling, as if fighting off something. “If you don’t mind me both changing the subject and touching on a nerve…”

“Kind of used to you doing that.”

“Have to ask…how much fencing did you learn?” It was a careful question, and Max sounded ashamed of himself for even asking. “Johan was teaching the copies some fencing, I get that. But…how much did you learn?”

“Nothing. Just the basics, but I was bad even at that.”

“I think if that were true Johan would have gotten rid of you. From what I understand, you were a Jack for nearly half a year.” Max shuddered. “God, it feels so weird to refer to it like that… ‘a’ Jack. I met the real guy before, you know?”

“I was never any good! Don’t ask me why Johan never got rid of me, I’m as surprised as you are.” There was no modesty there, only pure honesty. I was a terrible fencer and I never really learned the things he tried to teach me.

“I’m sure you believe that. You always had trouble finding value in yourself. But…” Incredulity gave way to some feeling I couldn’t quite recognize. Max rolled his eyes, as if the mere thought of an argument with me was pointless. I hated when he did that. “Anyway…can I ask you another question?”

“Yeah?”

“The Carr you’re with—is he the real one or a copy? Mine has said some odd things and—”

“I—wait, you mean there’s a Carr with you?” Oh man, that wasn’t going to be good. Was he part of the team we were fencing against? I’m so glad I’m not one of the fencers. “God, that’s…Johan never had a Carr when I was in the Academy. Guy always talked about how no one could approach his fencing level. When did he get one? Hell, where did he get one?”

Max shrugged. “Beats me. Was hoping you knew. My Carr says he was your champion for your Trial by Combat. Is that right?”

“Of course not! My Carr is the one who…” Shit. Was he? After he jumped into the crowd to attack Johan, he was taken to a medical area to recover. There was a period of a few hours before anyone could see him, including Celle. And according to her, he had started to act differently after that…he was way less of an asshole, apparently. Johan could have switched the copies after that…no, what would be the point? “My Carr is the real one—Johan tried really, really hard to capture him and failed.”

“Johan failed?” Max could not hide the surprise in his voice. So that wasn’t common knowledge?“Who stopped him?”

“All of us did,” said a new voice. “Valle, myself, and grandfather.”

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Oh, fuck. This isn’t good. Somehow the part of my brain that alerted me when things were about to go to hell triggered before the part that recognized voices. I knew everything was going to go to hell before I knew Isabella was the one speaking, and frankly I had no idea why. Spending time with these two had taught me one thing though—they would not like each other.

“Isabella, take it easy, this isn’t—”

Isabella drew out her sword and lunged at Max. It wasn’t a regular épée thrust, it was closer to sabre strike to the head—her blade being brought down vertically. It was a move incredibly unbecoming of her type of sword, but I had seen what it could do. It can go through anything. Anything. NO, MAX! My mouth was scarcely open before the attack reached where he used to be. His blade was withdrawn from its sheath, but he stood a few steps away from us now, feet in en garde position. Max didn’t attempt to block; his sword was drawn, but pointing away from Isabella’s blade in an absence of blade position, the kind used to avoid bladework.

From a safe distance, Max gave an annoyed laugh and started, in a sarcastic tone, “Do you always greet people—”

But she wasn’t interested in conversation. Her footwork moved in an erratic, yet precise fashion. There was a weird practiced quality to it, like a master musician who breaks the most basic rules because he has mastered them to the extent where he feels comfortable breaking them. Her footwork resembled sliding as much as actually advancing, and I was surprised her shoes withstood her movement. She’s bouncing now. Like Carr. Isabella’s blade again came close to Max, but this time he held his own blade at her, such that if she continued the movement they would both stab each other. At this her blade shifted, toward Max’s, and I knew why. Her goddamn sword can cut through anything. If it touches Max’s sword then—!

Here Max disengaged off her blade and held the tip above hers. It was perfect, zero blade contact at all. He did see us at Reven’s building. They both held their swords at each other’s throats right now, unmoving. “I will again again,” Max said, through a heavy breath. “Do you always greet people this way?”

“Only the ones who choose to work for Johan.”

“What’s wrong with working for Johan?”

Isabella laughed in disbelief. “You just heard what he did to the memory of his friends. Made people dress up like them, act like them, pretend nothing hadn’t happened. You think that crap is normal?”

“No. But grief does strange things to a man, and I will not judge—”

“—I will judge him, thank you very much.” Isabella grinned sadistically at him. “Someone who kills his own friends has no right to grief over them.”

“Kills—no!” Max sounded outraged. Oh Max…I…you really knew Johan, didn’t you? While you were on Earth? You really think you know him well, don’t you? I don’t want to be the one to tell you. But Max looked right at me and my heart broke a little. I would have to tell him. He had to know before the match tomorrow.

To my surprise, at this point Isabella sheathed her sword and began to walk away without another word. “W—wait!” I cried out. “Isabella!”

“What?” she asked. “Do you want me to finish this fight?”

“Well, no, but…” God, what could I even say at that point? It all just seemed so weird to let her go after she came in like a hurricane. “Don’t—don’t tell Carr.”

She shrugged. “I would never. He’ll find out on his own tomorrow, and he’s the type to shoot the messenger.”

Isabella

There were benefits to being seen as crazy. You could get away with doing the most absurd of things and nobody questioned it. Gilder was confused I had attacked his friend then just left a little while later, but he wasn’t questioning it the same way he would have if Fedal or Valle had been the ones to do it. It was true enough that I hated him for associating with Johan, but he seemed a bit like Carr in that he had his head up in fencing shaped clouds and didn’t look around his own surroundings enough. Certainly, a case could be made that the man was innocent enough. For now at least.

「FENCING」

He was an excellent test for your skills. You haven’t had time to really test your limits against anyone in a real fight, especially not since wielding the Devil’s Sword. From that quick exchange we can see what strategy they might employ against you tomorrow—absence of blade. Parrying is out of the question as your blade cuts through anything that moves, so it seems like the strategy they will employ against you will be to keep distance and disengage around your blade.

They can’t touch your blade, but they know you don’t want to die, so if they get you in a stalemate, you both will retreat into a safer engagement.

「WINNING」

You only have one eye. Don’t forget that. Depth perception is something you can adjust for, but without your dominant eye your reflexes aren’t perfect. You knew that they were aware of your sword’s ability since you invaded Reven’s building, so it was a good idea to establish what their response to your strategy would be.

Now the question is, what is our response to that? How do you plan on countering them?

「FENCING」

If their strategy is disengages, what you need to do to win is just to anticipate it. They can’t just disengage off your blade, they have to do a perfect no-touch disengage. Make it messy. Go against your instincts and make your movements as large as possible.

Normally, my advice would be to keep our movements small to make them faster and more efficient. But with the Devil’s Sword you don’t need to be efficient, if you touch their blade you have a massive advantage from that point on. Make a large, swashbuckling parry and touch their blade.

It was a solid strategy. FENCING had a point. Confirming what an excellent fencer would do against me had been an excellent idea. True, I had also learned about a fake Carr, but that was a problem for tomorrow-me, not current-me. Current-me was far more interested in formulating a strategy for tomorrow. Carr said he planned on seeing who was a best matchup against me and subbing me into the match as a surprise, so this could be—

“Are the voices in your head very talkative?” asked the Old Gambler.

I looked up at him. After the brief fight, I had returned to my room and was vaguely aware of the man’s presence. Somehow, he didn’t seem important at the time, so I threw my wet jacket over his face as if he were a well-placed chair and continued with my train of thought. Now the creature figured he had the right to speak and that made things most annoying. “Not as much as you.”

“Are you not interested in what I promised? All the answers you want?”

“Not right now. Besides, you’re just going to give me some cryptic bullshit until I win the team match tomorrow, are you not?”

“Well…” Moonlight shone on him from my window and I noticed something different about him. His mocking smile seemed more of a facade now, as if it was taking him visible effort to do so. This, more than anything else, caught my attention and prepared me for when he looked at me seriously and said, “I’m afraid time is running out.”

“Time is running out?”

“Johan is going to enact his plan soon,” said the Old Gambler, in a tired, weak voice. He laughed bitterly. “It’s just my luck. I search far and wide for someone who can fulfill my goals—and when I do, I find an overachiever. Just great. And if I’m being honest, I find myself regretting it all just a little.”

I drew my sword at him. “You can either be quiet or you can tell me everything—but no more cryptic bullshit, you hear me? I’m going to cut off your arms first. Then your legs. Then—”

The Old Gambler laughed and held out his hand at me. It was a strange laugh, sincere, but with a sort of sad quality to it, like the kind you see at funerals. “Varen and I were humans once,” he said, with a surprise frankness to his tone. “We died and were placed in a competition with others. Losers got erased forever, but the winners had a unique prize. Godhood, so to speak.”

Whatever I had been expecting his response to be, actual answers were not up there. “Godhood? What do you mean?”

“We were given the power of Rules—he was, really. Back then he wasn’t called Varen yet—lord, so much happened. I placed second, so I was allowed to come in as his enforcer. He was the Architect, I was the Overseer. That guy always had…peculiar tastes. When we came into this world, he imposed his Rules on it. Whenever a Rule is enacted, it can’t be taken back until the death of its issuer. Death is relative for the immortals, though. All [Skills] came from his Rules, including the special limits on [Swordsmanship]. Always thought it was bullshit, but he won, fair and square. My job was to enforce his rules.” He grimaced. “I tried getting him killed many times, but everyone I brought over died before they could even attempt it—except for Duartes, who wisely decided not to engage with this world at all and merely made it his retirement home. Smart guy, that bastard.”

「REASON」

He wants to kill God. Petty revenge, perhaps. Maybe they never liked each other. Maybe they disagree on the Rules they chose. Whatever the case, the Old Gambler wants to kill God…and he is afraid he might finally succeed.

“So if you want to kill me, go ahead,” said the Old Gambler. “Otherwise, how about I tell you everything about how this world works from the start, and then you can go have your team match?”

“Everything?”

“Including about the truth behind the voices in your head. And trust me, I had to do some digging to find out what the hell that was. This part is new to me as well.”

I considered it for a moment. “Fine. Speak."