Volume 5, Chapter 9 – A Look at the Democracy of Silence
I managed to reach the first wall — guarded by many special forces soldiers and knights on cheetahs. They had a whole camp deployed here.
And the entire wall was covered in countless phrases: (Do Not Enter — Death) (You Will Die) (Danger!) (Death Zone!) (100 km of magic absorption.) (I died in 5 seconds — will you?) (Died on one leg, and...) (Go back to your family!) (Your wife is waiting — tell yourself to stop) (You want death? — You don't want death!) (Love fighting and dangerous zones? Then come to us! Join Knight Division 9. Small print: We are not responsible for your life)
I needed to make one dash — because these people definitely wouldn't let me through on the ground, and they definitely wouldn't chase after me. I squeezed my legs hard in the air and pushed off hard — and the wings instantly flapped, developing colossal speed. My face went numb — any action caused pain. I flew through the wall. The guards noticed and started shouting something after me — but from the speed and wind I heard nothing. And I found myself in a truly dark place — not a single flashlight, nothing. Below me — the abyss. Ahead — the abyss.
(I hope I don't hit the wall like a mosquito hitting a windshield.) I flew for ten minutes, tensing up more with each minute — thinking that now the wall would come! But no — it didn't. I flew on, braking, feeling ahead like a blind man for a couple of minutes, then accelerating again very carefully, afraid that I'd checked, found nothing, sped up — and the wall would be a meter in front of me.
It was also cold. I couldn't put the cloak on properly — I unfolded it, covering my torso from the wind, and threaded my arms through. It looked strange, but at least it helped.
"Here!"
The wall reflected the light of the moons and stars — looking like calm water or a well-polished car. Everything reflected perfectly in it — and it felt like I was flying upward, not horizontally. But that was only an illusion. And as soon as I reached the wall, I could exhale deeply and eat the bread I'd gotten from the robbers.
(Stale, but edible.)
"Heh..." — I glanced with a smile at the Silent Silence. Nothing was visible — but somewhere there, at a distance of 200–300 km, was headquarters, quarries, factories, and... CUB. And in the corner of this wall, outside my field of view right now, they were cutting through a mountain for the new capital...
(They're all fine. They'll handle everything. I need to believe in them, in their independence!)
I sighed sadly — and the wings folded, hugging me, as if I were trying to embrace myself with my arms — but instead of arms, the wings obeyed...
(Fine...)
"KEEPER!" — I shouted, pacing along the beautiful surface, still just as cold, and peered into the Silent Silence, trying to see at least something familiar — but no... Nothing.
(I wonder what this Old Man will pull this time — probably flick me on the nose again.)
"And who's skulking around here at night?" — the Old Man said from behind me — and in front of me, a metal finger briefly began to form, but quickly returned to the wall.
I turned around with a smile.
"Well, hello... Keeper. I need a dozen rapiers — with hilts that don't absorb magic," — I stated my request, heading toward him.
The Old Man was surprised, stroking his beard.
"I'm having some déjà vu..." — he stared at me and froze.
(I decided not to lose the chance and flicked him on the nose — for all the times.)
"So it's you!" — he caught my finger. "— Rascal. But hmm-hmm-hmm..." — the Old Man thought and started pacing along the wall, pulling me by the finger. "— I only remember that little brat who dropped tons of metal on me — though you had the exact same moment... Hmmm... And you both threatened. All the same — only it was a girl."
"Calm down!" — I flapped my wings, yanking my finger out of his grip. "— Just give me the rapiers, and that's it."
The Old Man looked at me.
"Silence, bird! People are thinking," — he continued pacing back and forth. "— Where do you even get wings — and non-magical at that. But who am I asking — you have no idea yourself," — the Old Man sighed.
The Old Man sat on a bench that appeared on the wall and looked at the sky.
"I've never seen such insolent ones as you and your girlfriend. Brazenly settled the Silent Silence, acting like I'm your little dog, demanding and demanding," — a sigh. "— Go and take them from your former friends."
"You don't get it," — I stood in front of him. "— I need rapiers with hilts that the inhabitants of this world can hold."
A rapier sprang from the wall, landing in my hands. The very same rapier — white, elegant, light.
"What do you think the point of this metal is?" — the Old Man asked, getting up from the bench.
"So no one enters the Silent Silence," — I answered confidently, replacing my old rapier and wrapping the new one in cloth.
"Right, right. For protection from people. And you want to give people this metal — and smart ones might figure out how to break this wall," — he looked down the wall. "— And then two options. Either people start making raids here again, or..."
"Or what?" — I said calmly.
"Or the world drowns in chaos of the creatures..."
"But the rapiers differ in components — they don't fuse together like ordinary material on contact," — I parried.
"True. Different proportions — but the same components."
(But it's still 100 km of magic absorption... The Old Man's panicking over nothing.)
"Well then. Take them," — he said, and twelve rapiers with black hilts fell onto the surface. "— Just don't come to me with demands anymore. This is, so to speak... A kind gesture from the Keeper."
"Okay, Old M—"
"I'm the Keeper."
"Fine, Keeper," — I said, gathering all the rapiers and wrapping them in the cloak, then putting them in the bag.
The Keeper vanished — and I looked at the Silent Silence. (If only a vehicle would drive by right now... I want to touch that life under the scorching sun, the Strategist's briefings... See Mary-Sue... Sit in my chair next to Paladin, watch how the Strategist constantly gets his teacup taken...)
(Heh... No doubt fighters are already in the air — and I've lit up on satellites. Planes could reach me now and study me. But helicopters are unlikely to arrive soon — it took us an hour and a half from headquarters to the wall during Operation "Hello China." So the Strategist already has his hand on the pulse — and if I cross the wall, I might be marked as "hostile"... Because I really have become a stranger to them.)
I smiled one last time and flew back the other way, saying goodbye to the Democracy of Silence once again.