A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Pulchritudo]

Gretel could not really sleep that night.

She had tried.

At some point she had even stopped consciously thinking about everything that had happened and simply closed her eyes, hoping exhaustion would eventually do the work for her. It hadn’t. Every time she drifted toward sleep, some fragment of the previous night seemed to surface again—the fighting, the destruction, the confusion afterward, and the sight of people being carried from the destroyed estate.

Eventually, she had given up trying to force herself to sleep.

Even so, morning had rushed to meet her.

It came sooner than she wanted it to; the light filtering through the inn’s windows was still pale when Gretel found herself lying awake, staring blankly across the clean room.

It was strangely uncomfortable how ordinary everything looked.

The room was perfectly intact. The beds were neatly arranged, the wooden furniture had been kept clean, and nothing about the little space suggested the events that had taken place only hours earlier. It felt disconnected.

Gretel had no sleepwear to change into, so she had merely removed some sections of her attire before going to bed, leaving herself in her trousers and white button shirt. The shirt was still slightly rumpled from the night, and the sleeves had been left in their usual state.

Her blonde hair was completely undone as well.

It spilled loosely across the bed and over part of the pillow, considerably messier than she normally allowed it to become. She remained still for a while, her silver eyes fixed on the room without really seeing it.

Then, almost absently, her eyes shifted toward the other bed.

It was empty; Mikoto’s bed had not been slept in.

Gretel’s gaze lingered there.

They were sharing a room because they were the youngest in the group. It had seemed like a simple enough arrangement when it had been decided. There had been nothing particularly significant about it.

Now, after last night, she found herself looking at the empty bed differently.

("He really didn’t care... but still...")

Gretel frowned.

She slowly pushed herself upright, moving with the sluggishness of someone who had barely rested at all. Her body felt heavy, though she knew it was more exhaustion than physical injury.

She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment as her feet found the floor. Then she reached for her boots; she put them on almost absentmindedly, fastening them without paying much attention to what her hands were doing.

Her thoughts continued moving even while her body went through the motions.

("But last night there seemed to be more. At least I think there is.")

She couldn’t quite let it go; there had been something in Mikoto’s behavior the previous night.

It was difficult to identify; he had been detached when she confronted him about the explosions. He had not shown the reaction she expected, and that had disturbed her. It was nothing obvious enough that she could confidently point to it and say that Mikoto was struggling with something.

But it had been there.

At least, she thought it had been.

Gretel rubbed a hand against her face, tiredly trying to organize her thoughts. Maybe she was simply looking for something that wasn’t there. Maybe she was trying to rationalize Mikoto’s behavior because the alternative was harder to accept.

She had seen enough of him to know he could be blunt and insensitive. She knew he could speak as though other people’s feelings were an inconvenience. That was nothing new.

But heartless or careless?

That was different.

And Gretel wasn’t ready to believe that was who he really was.

("But last night there seemed to be more. At least I think there is.")

The uncertainty bothered her.

She didn’t know whether she was actually recognizing something in him or simply coping with the fact that Mikoto might have some kind of inner turmoil that he had no intention of acknowledging.

She heaved a quiet sigh; there was no point in standing there thinking herself in circles.

Gretel rose fully and made her way toward the door. When she opened it, she stepped into the hallway and pulled it closed behind her. The sleek wooden railing of the inn’s second floor greeted her.

She rested one hand against it for a moment, looking down toward the lower floor.

The inn was quiet; only a few patriots were seated at the tables below, eating their morning meals. Their subdued conversations blended together beneath. The small number of people did not surprise Gretel.

It still seemed quite early.

It did not take long to find Mikoto; his white hair stood out immediately against the more ordinary colors of the inn. He was seated at a table in the far corner, and sitting across from him was Goiim.

Gretel’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The woman looked as though she had stepped out of some completely different world compared to everyone else in the inn. She was still wearing that exquisite dress, every detail apparently untouched by the exhaustion that had affected everyone else. Her hair remained perfect as well.

Not a strand seemed out of place.

Gretel looked down at herself; her clothing was still rumpled, and her hair was undone. Her appearance probably looked considerably closer to how she actually felt.

For the first time that morning, she became conscious of how disheveled she was.

She felt a little self-conscious about it.

Before she could dwell on the thought, a familiar voice drifted from her side.

"Seems they’re starting without us."

Gretel turned her head.

Shuten-dōji was approaching, wearing her usual traditional attire, with Robert walking behind her. Unlike Shuten, Robert seemed considerably more pensive, his attention moving quietly across the inn as though he were already thinking about the conversation waiting for them.

Gretel straightened slightly.

"Shuten-dōji, Robert, good morning. Looks like they’re already getting into it. We should probably get down there, then. We’re still a part of this, after all."

"Indeed. It’s the best way to start the morning."

The oni smiled as she moved past Gretel, apparently finding something amusing about the situation.

Robert followed their exchange with a skeptical expression.

"Talking about dragons who threaten the world?"

"Of course." Shuten-dōji’s answer came easily.

She gestured for them to follow.

Gretel and Robert obliged.

The three of them made their way farther down the inn together, an odd trio by any reasonable standard. Fortunately, there were not enough patriots in the inn to pay them much attention. They did not have to endure the awkwardness of people watching them or wondering why such an unusual group was moving together.

As they continued, Shuten-dōji’s attention shifted toward something at the side of the room.

Her eyes settled on a lone figure seated at a table.

Echidna, the Mother of Monsters, sat by herself, drinking from a mug. A strangely ordinary action for such a thing.

Shuten-dōji’s expression changed slightly.

"Drinking this early is considered bad manners, Mother of Monsters." Her tone was light.

Echidna slowly lifted her emerald eyes toward the oni; they were sharp.

"Leave me be, spirit. I could do without your prattle this early in the morning."

Gretel and Robert exchanged a brief glance; neither of them needed to say anything. The Mother of Monsters seemed especially salty this morning. And both of them doubted that something like Echidna simply had bad mornings.

There was probably more to it.

Still, Shuten-dōji did not seem remotely bothered.

Instead, she continued forward with the same easy composure.

"Come now. Mikoto is engaging in a most interesting conversation, and I very much doubt you’d want to miss it. Whatever you’re drinking can wait a little longer."

Echidna’s emerald eyes narrowed.

("She’s awfully bubbly despite our battle, and that Angel does not seem to care that we fought.")

Her gaze briefly moved toward Mikoto.

The oni was acting as though the previous night’s conflict had already been put away somewhere in the past.

Echidna still wasn’t sure what to make of either of them. Shuten-dōji was an unpredictable wild card; that much had become increasingly obvious.

But the oni was right about one thing.

Echidna still had Goiim’s plan to abide by.

Whatever personal irritation she had toward Shuten-dōji and whatever unpleasantness remained from their battle, it was still wiser to remain close and observe what was happening. She had no intention of allowing her own temper to interfere with the larger objective.

Echidna lowered her mug, then she rose from her seat.

She said nothing more.

Shuten-dōji smiled as she watched the Mother of Monsters approach. Echidna moved toward the table where Mikoto and Goiim were seated, her expression still sour and her emerald eyes focused ahead.

Gretel and Robert followed.

Meanwhile, at the table, Mikoto looked up when he noticed the approaching group.

His attention moved over them one by one as they drew closer; he watched them for a moment before settling his gaze on Shuten-dōji.

"Hey, Yuki. I hope you didn’t already discuss the more entertaining bits without us. I would’ve been disappointed to find out you started without me."

Shuten-dōji was the first to speak, dropping herself into the empty seat beside Mikoto.

Mikoto gave her a brief look.

"We’re just starting out. You haven’t missed anything worth complaining about." His tone was dry enough that it was difficult to tell whether he was actually reassuring her or simply telling her to stop talking.

The others began finding places around the table.

Echidna did not sit.

Instead, she moved toward the nearby wall and settled against it, folding her elegant arms across herself. Her emerald eyes remained attentive, despite the clear irritation still lingering in her expression.

Gretel took the seat opposite Shuten-dōji, positioning herself beside Goiim.

Robert remained standing; his eyes immediately went toward Goiim, then away. The suspicious glances he kept throwing in her direction were not subtle enough.

Goiim noticed, but she didn’t appear particularly interested in acknowledging it.

Her pale gaze remained calm as she looked toward the others.

"Will your red-hooded friend not be meeting us?" There was no real curiosity in Goiim’s voice.

Gretel answered before anyone else could.

"She had her own business to take care of last night. She wasn’t able to come back with us, so she’ll be handling that instead."

Goiim gave a wordless nod; her pale eyes shifted toward Mikoto, and they remained there.

"Then I shall keep my end of the bargain, since you’ve retrieved the object of my interest. You fulfilled your part of the arrangement."

Gretel’s attention returned fully to the conversation.

("This really was a roundabout way to gain information.") She couldn’t help but think it; the entire process had been considerably more complicated than it probably needed to be.

Still, a bargain was a bargain.

And if the information was genuine, the trouble might ultimately prove worthwhile.

Goiim continued.

"Ddraig and Albion are subjects of discord for many, as you’re all aware. They are powerful enough that their presence and conflict tore through the northern region and the Nameless Kingdom. Their names have become associated with destruction on a scale that few creatures can produce."

Mikoto’s expression remained unchanged.

"Get to the point about where they are. I don’t particularly care about their reputation or how many people are scared of them. We already know they’re powerful. Where are they?"

His impatience was immediate.

Goiim regarded him for a moment before answering.

"I don’t possess an exact location, but merely a general idea. I cannot tell you where either dragon is with the precision you appear to be asking for."

Mikoto’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Goiim continued before he could respond.

"The red dragon found its way into the Abyss some time ago. So reaching it is all but impossible. Whatever path it took to enter is not one that can simply be followed by ordinary means, and the Abyss itself is hardly a place one can enter casually."

"So either it croaks in there or comes back stronger. Lovely." Mikoto murmured the words under his breath.

His thoughts briefly wandered back to his own experience. He had spent only a small amount of time within the Abyss himself. Even though that had been enough, he remembered the oppressive nature of the place, the feeling that the environment was fundamentally hostile, and the uncertainty of what might be waiting beyond whatever corner he happened to look toward.

A certain Astrothian had displaced him there.

And if he had remained there...

Mikoto’s expression remained neutral, but the thought was enough to make him reconsider the situation. The Abyss was not merely dangerous because it contained strong opponents. It was dangerous because he did not know what lived there.

There were things that crawled through its depths that even he could not confidently dismiss. If not for the Ancestor of Pestilence, he might never have found his way back out. Whatever crawled in the Abyss might have been too much to handle for even him.

The possibility was unpleasant enough that Mikoto pushed the thought aside.

He returned his attention to Goiim.

"Then what about Albion?"

Goiim’s gaze shifted slightly.

"The white dragon..." She paused for only a moment before continuing. "It’s associated with the fairies."