My panic attack at the sight of the medallion surprisingly clears my mind, and I belatedly remember to activate my skill. I'm certain there is at least one Maker in this group of enforcers, so a capability that prevents my aura from being read would come in handy.
The gray-haired monk beside me doesn't seem surprised by the visit. He bows to the guests with calm respect, free of fear or servility. In response, he receives his share of formal salutations. The unexpected visitors seem to overlook Maya and me. They spare us a glance and nothing more.
"Do I need to explain the reason for our visit?" the tall Asian man's voice is deep and resonant; it's the kind of voice that could command a stage or lead a broadcast.
"No, we have already sensed it," the monk who greeted us replies.
Maya's hand tightens even more around mine. She even breaks a nail but doesn't seem to notice. I think I now understand why we couldn't wait for Tu Chong, and this realization adds another heavy weight to this terrible day.
"We won't take up much of your time," says the leader of the peculiar group of five, his face devoid of emotion, like a wax figure.
"The Abode of Knowledge is entirely at the disposal of the envoys of Retribution," replies the gray-haired monk, stepping aside and bowing once more while making an inviting gesture with his hand.
Before entering the gate, the man in the suit turns to his group and gives a peculiar sign. They understand him perfectly: two squat men follow him onto the monastery grounds while the Spanish-Portuguese man and the girl with the tube stay outside the threshold.
The path isn't wide, and Maya and I have to step aside to let the "guests" pass. As he goes by, the elder of the "messengers of Retribution" gives us a nod as if recognizing old acquaintances. Odd, I've never seen him before. His behavior is unsettling: everything seems accepted as given, and the presence of two Break Knights in the monastery doesn't appear strange or unusual to him, as if he knew for certain we would be here. If he is a Maker, then perhaps he did. Who knows what beings of such power are capable of?
The "twins" following the elder also nod to us, but I notice a flicker of curiosity in their eyes, which they try to hide behind an indifferent facade. Either the current crisis has heightened my perceptions, or the strain of the day has begun to make me see things.
Unlike Maya, who remains statue-like, I return the nod in a polite manner. I then take a step after the guests. The tall Asian man looks back at my movement and acknowledges it with a calm, open smile.
"You'd better wait here. We really won't be long," he said, immediately continuing on his path.
Maya seemed to bristle at the suggestion, but I placed a hand on her arm, applying gentle pressure. She took the hint and stayed put. As much as my curiosity was piqued by our unexpected visitors, now wasn't the time to indulge such desires.
Before the gray-haired monk and three guests had time to disappear around the bend in the path, the Spanish-Portuguese man muttered something clearly obscene under his breath. He sat down right on the stones of the path, took off his right boot, and banged it against the ground. Reaching inside, he pulled out a small pebble a few seconds later. He scrutinized his find before glancing up at the girl with the tube.
"Do you have any idea how a stone with traces of glue ended up in my boot? And it was stuck in the most inconvenient spot on the inside," he asked.
In response, the girl in the revealing T-shirt merely shrugged and turned away, but I didn't miss the flicker of amusement in her eyes.
"I know you have a grudge against my boots," the dark-haired man continued, "but this is a bit much." With that, he flung the pebble into the nearby bushes.
"I don't mind your boots," the girl with the tube replied, her voice suited to a rebellious teenager. "What bothers me is that you never take them off; you even sleep in those jackboots."
"These aren't jackboots!"
"What's the difference?"
This exchange struck me as odd, somewhat contrived. I couldn't pinpoint why. However, the mini-dialogue seemed to lighten Maya's mood; she visibly relaxed, and a ghost of a smile flickered on her lips.
Having concluded their little act, the unusual pair pivoted to study us unabashedly, disregarding any semblance of Eastern politeness or reserve. It was as though we weren't human beings but exhibits in a museum or exotic creatures in a zoo.
"C plus," the Spanish-Portuguese man declared after a thirty-second inspection.
"Just C," the girl with the tube countered, chuckling. "You've always been terrible at eye estimates."
"Oh, I messed up again," the man in the leather jacket looked genuinely upset.
Maya was oblivious to their cryptic discussion, which was probably for the best. I was astonished by the pair's blatant lack of decorum. Their gaze then landed on me.
"Padded sneakers," the dark-haired man began again, "shoulder padding, stomach, and chest padding. Plus, the outfit isn't suitable for the weather." He then deliberately sniffed the air. "Yet he doesn't sweat as much as one would expect in this heat."
"The gloves don't match," added the girl in the revealing T-shirt. "The body disguise is mediocre, but it could fool regular people."
She approached me and prodded my suit with her finger.
"Move the padding higher; as it is now, it looks unnatural." Her hand moved up to my shoulders. "The padding needs to be more evenly distributed. Here, the lump is noticeable. Did you stuff your socks in there?"
It was fortunate I wore a helmet to hide the flush of embarrassment. To camouflage Izao's excessive thinness, I had indeed used socks – two pairs for each shoulder.
"Did I ask for advice?" I retorted. As the words left my mouth, I realized my childishness. Their audacity didn't excuse my outburst.
"Do good for people, and it will come back to you," the girl sang in response, her smile bitter.
"All because you lack tact and sensitivity," the dark-haired man teased her immediately.
"Oh, look who's talking!" She laughed in response. "You're quite the brute yourself."
"I can afford to be," the man in the leather jacket shrugged. "It's my job."
"Yes, yes, life made us this way, the same old tune," the girl moved away from me, sat on the curb, and hugged her tube.
"That's right. Sit and be quiet."
Perhaps Maya took this act at face value, but I spotted inconsistencies and disconnects in their behavior. This pair had a much closer relationship than they were letting on. Not physically, but emotionally, resembling siblings more than antagonistic partners.
Nevertheless, the girl in the miniskirt was right. My makeshift disguise needed improvement. I should have procured something like hockey padding to wear under the motorcycle suit. Using socks for such a purpose did seem absurd.
Wait. Was this all a performance to distract us? Initially, they "targeted" Maya, but her dejection left her unresponsive. Then they shifted their attention to me. It seemed unlikely that, having undergone specialist training for their roles, they would engage in public bickering for no reason.
From their perspective, they probably thought they were doing the right thing. Still, I shouldn't fall for it. Instead, I should ponder why an Eastern martial group was in Wilflaes in the first place. My knowledge, limited to films and a handful of detective stories Izao once read, was unlikely to be reliable. Yet, the presence of the "palm of Bodhidharma" in the Abode of Knowledge was decidedly unusual. These individuals didn't just show up for a "friendly visit."
Out of the corner of my eye, I kept observing Maya. The girl seemed to be gradually recovering from her stress, but she hadn't quite gotten there yet. In the meantime, I had time to think. What were these visitors doing here? The first thought that came to mind was that Tu Chong had summoned them due to the terrorist attack. The theory was plausible since the Break Knights of Wilflaes were under the protection of the clergy, and attacking the raigs was a challenge to them too. It seemed logical, but several details made me doubt this theory. From my knowledge of the abbot, he would primarily support the Knights and certainly would not leave Maya alone for several hours. Also, the monks were preparing for a ceremony resembling a funeral. The unsettling thought that Tu Chong might be dead continued to nag at me. However, he was a Maker, so he couldn't just die suddenly and swiftly without predicting it. Could that even happen with his abilities? So, we could rule out death from natural causes or an accident. In such cases, the Retribution group wouldn't have shown up here. That left only one possibility: Tu Chong was murdered.
Indeed, murdering a Maker was no easy task. They were akin to the Jedi from Star Wars: possessing foresight, unnaturally fast reactions, and heightened senses. However, killing us raigs was even more challenging; nonetheless, the rats managed it. Let's suppose this theory is correct, but why would anyone want to eliminate the abbot? There could be many reasons unknown to me. Yet, it was a fact that someone had decided to do so coinciding with the attack on BKDW. Perhaps these two events were unrelated, but I didn't believe in such coincidences.
My mind was running in circles. How I wished I could switch to the Break and clear my head of emotions, but alas, this was neither the time nor place. What was I missing? Why couldn't I piece the puzzle together? Let's assume Tu Chong was killed because he was the overseer of BKDW. So to say, a warning strike to the clerics, "Do not interfere – we can deal with you too." It was a far-fetched theory that didn't hold up under scrutiny. The servants of Faith have never been able to forgive and forget, despite what their holy texts suggest about the virtues of doing so. If Eshin's leaders were foolish enough to be guided by such motives, then this clan wouldn't have endured for centuries in a state of perpetual warfare with virtually everyone. And, in general, viewing your enemies as fools is a certain path to the grave.
Nonetheless, the preparations for the funeral rites and the arrival of the "palm of Bodhidharma" all point towards the conclusion that Tu Chong has been killed. I didn't want to believe it, but discarding the most obvious explanation just because it didn't suit my liking would be foolish under the current circumstances.
I racked my brain for different scenarios but couldn't make sense of it. There must be a reason why Eshin would benefit from eliminating the abbot. Yet, I couldn't find a theory that didn't seem contrived or riddled with gaping logical holes. Either I was lacking in intelligence, or I didn't have enough information to arrive at the correct conclusions.
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Besides, all this theorizing might be entirely unnecessary. It's plausible that the Retribution representatives were summoned by Tu Chong, and the abbot is merely preoccupied. Perhaps he's still with the Duke. The preparations for the funeral ritual could be explained by the commencement of a memorial for the Break Knights. Maybe I'm just driving myself crazy for nothing? This uncertainty definitely won't last long. I understood this, yet my brain refused to be still, continuing to conjure up theories and conjectures.
"We didn't take long, as promised," came a voice from behind me.
The voice was so sudden that I instinctively jolted. The tall Asian, accompanied by the "twins," had approached so quietly from behind that I hadn't noticed. From Maya's reaction, it seemed she hadn't heard the trio's footsteps either.
Internally cursing my lack of attention, I turned around, trying to maintain composure. The leader of the clerical battle group stood nearby, just a few steps away, with an open and seemingly benevolent smile. This only added to my unease. I couldn't quite put my finger on why this man made me feel nervous, but he did.
"Nein, Rui," he called out to the tall Spanish-Portuguese and the girl with the tube. "Wake up, stop sleeping, we're leaving."
As he spoke, he waved a tattered book clutched in his hand. I caught the author's name on the cover, and Izao's memory suggested it was a collection of poems by an early twentieth-century French author. I was baffled. Had they come here for a book of poetry? Why? Or was there more to this book than met the eye?
"As far as I understand," the leader of the battle group said, turning towards us. "You're still following us?" I nodded in response. "Just as I thought. In that case, I invite you to come with us to avoid any misunderstandings."
"We accept your invitation," I responded for both of us after giving Maya's hand a gentle squeeze to prevent her from objecting. Maya was still recovering from the shock, but I thought it best to play it safe.
"In that case, introductions are in order," said the man in the suit, stopping a couple of steps away from me. "Bao, Lao," he pointed to two stocky men in monastic robes and sneakers, which completely clashed with their appearances. "They are our force support specialists. I wouldn't recommend joking with them - they have absolutely no sense of humor." The pair, who looked like twins, didn't even bat an eyelid at his comment. "Nein," he gestured to the tall Asian, who nodded calmly upon hearing his name. "He has a peculiar sense of humor - best to ignore his jokes. He is our group's investigator. Rui," he motioned towards the girl with the tube. "An irreplaceable and unique specialist. You can entrust her with any secrets, and she will keep them." The girl in question performed a playful curtsy, lifting the edges of her skirt, a gesture I found overly revealing given the shortness of this piece of clothes. "You can call me Zanh Kiem." I doubted this was his real name, it reminded me of the word "sword" in Vietnamese, but perhaps my nerves were playing tricks on me. "You don't need to introduce yourselves. Maya Grimm," he politely bowed towards Maya as he mentioned her name, "is known all over the world. And you," he said, his gaze resting on my helmet visor, "prefer to be called Maestro. That is sufficient for me."
The more I observed the man who introduced himself as Zanh Kiem, the more I felt a sense of dissonance. His demeanor and tone suggested a high-ranking executive of a corporation rather than a senior member of a punitive group of clerics.
Maya finally regained her senses. It seemed her deeply ingrained respect for her elders took precedence, and after releasing my forearm, she gave a deep bow. However, as soon as she finished her gesture, her hand was back clutching my sleeve.
With a nod and an inviting wave of his hand, Mr. "Sword" started descending the path, moving away from the gates of the Abode of Knowledge. Nein and Rui immediately fell into step with him. The two bald monks, Bao and Lao, waited until Maya and I had started moving before following us, their almost silent footsteps echoing faintly behind us.
Strangely enough, this pair, Bao and Lao, didn't bother me. They were exactly how I'd pictured Eastern inquisitors: stern, silent, stoic, with distinctive callouses on their palms and knuckles that bore signs of daily training. They fit perfectly into my preconceptions, unlike the trio leading us. Nein seemed more like an old-school biker than a special group interrogator, and Rui appeared like a young adult stuck in the mindset of a rebellious teenager. But I knew it was a mistake to judge these people by their appearances and affected behavior. After all, these five unexpected visitors were sensums, not just Gifted, but trained by the finest. Zanh Kiem, it appeared, was a Maker - at least according to cinematic cliches. However, without entering the Break and seeing the colors of his aura, it was challenging to gauge his power level.
Since I'd never traveled this path before and always used shortcuts while in the projection state, I absorbed the surrounding scenery like a sponge. It was important to remember that we were walking through an area inaccessible to ordinary people. At first glance, it was a well-maintained park in a scenic hilly region. But I knew we were in what could be the most secure zone in the country. Just half a kilometer to the south, over a gentle hilltop, lay the Castle, the Duke's residence. I was certain that security systems were hidden throughout the area, if not in every tree and bush, then at least every other one. Despite my careful observation, I didn't notice any cameras or detectors. This, however, didn't mean they weren't there; rather, it attested to the proficiency of the security service. In truth, it was somewhat futile to even try as I wasn't particularly interested in how the park area was protected. And if I needed to know, all it would take was a visit here in the Break to examine everything in much more detail, without the slightest risk.
In less than five minutes, the winding path led us to a broad avenue, which under the cover of shady trees, guided us to a gate crafted from intricately wrought rods. At the exit of the territory belonging to the ducal family of Novilter, a detachment of guards served. Upon noticing our small procession, the six guards, dressed in dark, formal, and aesthetically pleasing uniforms, snapped to attention. Their leader, identifiable by the lieutenant's epaulets, even saluted as Zanh Kiem approached.
We were not questioned; in fact, no one uttered a single word. The gates silently opened, and we nonchalantly strolled out of the ducal park. I couldn't help but notice that the ordinary guards strained their eyes to follow Maya as she passed by. To these young men in uniform, the Knight maiden was of more interest than the five unusual Eastern Inquisitors. It wasn't that Maya was extraordinarily beautiful. No, the guards' gazes held no hint of desire or anything of the sort. Instead, they looked at her with reverence. For her part, Maya walked past the standing guards without sparing them a glance. She walked forward, not looking around, her hand clenching my forearm, her thoughts evidently elsewhere.
Beyond the gate, a tranquil, shaded, and utterly deserted avenue continued. However, as we ventured further, the characteristic sounds of a bustling city began to permeate through the dense foliage. Another turn of the path led us to a small paved parking area, which, to my chagrin, was far from empty.
The first thing that captured my attention was two massive, entirely black SUVs, their tinted windows glistening in the sunlight, their plates bearing the unmistakable numbers of the heir's secretariat. Next to these imposing vehicles, an ordinary police sedan and a road service hatchback appeared meek, like minnows beside well-fed perch. Seemingly out of place, a plain beige second-hand minibus with twelve seats was stationed forlornly at the edge of the parking lot.
While the police and road workers remained in their vehicles, a pair of very flamboyant men stood by the SUVs, engaged in conversation, until they noticed our procession. Upon our arrival, they fell silent and turned towards us. The first was a fit brunette who made even a standard business suit look like a dress unifom. The second reminded me of Bao and Lao trailing behind us, a similarly stocky Asian of average height. However, instead of orange robes, he was clad in a mundane suit, and unlike the bald "twins," his head didn't glisten under the scorching sun, it bore an ordinary hairstyle. On the surface, this Asian man seemed bland, someone you'd pass on the street and immediately forget. That is, unless you locked eyes with him. His gaze was cold, detached, as though everything surrounding him was nothing more than an illusion, and he alone was privy to this understanding. It was an unnerving stare that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. I had never seen either of them in person or in the news. They were clearly extraordinary individuals.
Zanh Kiem seemed to disregard the presence of such a delegation and maintained a steady walking pace. Nein and Rui calmly followed their commander, albeit adjusting their positions slightly to guard his rear.
The pair waiting for us appeared dissatisfied with this display of indifference, and wordlessly, they advanced toward us. All their attention was concentrated on Zanh Kiem; they paid no mind to the others. At least, not initially. The brunette's gaze then scanned us and fell on Maya. His stride faltered immediately, he came to a halt, and for a split second, his eyes widened in surprise. A genuine smile then broke across his lips, and, forgetting about the Eastern Inquisitors, he turned to us.
Maya, who had been introspective up until this point and seemed oblivious to her surroundings, flinched. Her grip on my arm, which had been firm, eased slightly.
Clearly, the two knew each other. It remained to be seen whether this was good news or not.
However, before the stranger in the suit could even take three steps, two orange shadows silently leaped out from behind us and obstructed his path. With their hands behind their backs, Bao and Lao held their ground and shook their heads in unison, conveying clearly that this individual should not proceed further.
Caught off guard by this reaction, the athletic brunette halted, but only momentarily. His stance then shifted, becoming poised and aggressive, his eyes turned red, and his lips curled into a sinister smile. It was a smile under which unnatural fangs glinted.