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Allison
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Chapter 17 : Two aeroplanes were flying in wide circles over the lake, a slight distance from Kunst.
Two aeroplanes were flying in wide circles over the lake, a slight distance from Kunst. They continued to circle the air clockwise, a little less than two hundred meters above the ground.
The sky was a dark blue. Though it looked like the sun had set moments ago, the sun was still in the middle of the cloudless sky. But more than half of it had already disappeared.
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A round of applause. The newscaster repeated the name of the politician who just finished his speech. Then, the newscaster announced that the rally would take a short break due to the coming Night.
Benedict turned off the radio and looked at Fiona.
“The rally is going just according to plan. And there are many people there, as well.”
“…”
Fiona returned his gaze without a word.
“It is all right. There are two people who are looking down on you from above you, and here is someone who will protect you now.”
With that, Benedict called to Allison.
Night was coming to midday. The snow covering the ground began to go grey, and the shadows of the aeroplanes on the lake grew a shade fainter. The world began to lose light. Benedict glanced at his watch and called Allison.
Benedict’s plane returned to level position. The tilted world returned to normal. From a slight distance, Allison’s plane mimicked his perfectly. The two aeroplanes began to descend. Dropping to one hundred meters over the lake, they pa.s.sed the sh.o.r.e and into the sky over the vast capital city. The compa.s.s on the instrument panel was pointed due southeast. With the wind against them, the two aeroplanes continued, casting dim shadows over the blue roofs. In an alleyway in Kunst. A man walking down the alley looked up at the sudden roar of engines. Two aeroplanes quickly flew past the long, narrow sky between one house and the next. “Honey, come back inside. It’s almost Night.” A woman called him in. The man did as he was told, his brow furrowing. The dark blue sky grew even darker. The sun continued to shrink to the size of a pea, as though staggering in the middle of the sky. Benedict’s plane slowed as it cruised over the darkened city. Blue roofs covered in snow rushed past behind him. Soon, the world fell into deep darkness. Relying on his instruments alone, Benedict continued cruising parallel to the ground. * * * There was a square stone building at the end of the street. It was a magnificent marble building that completely dwarfed the houses around it. There was a large balcony on the third floor, on the side of the building that faced the street. The balcony jutted into the street in a graceful arc, its railings engraved with ornate designs. Set up at the end of the balcony was a podium and a microphone. Behind it were about a dozen men sitting in a row of chairs. They were dressed in suits and coats, and ranged in age from their forties to early sixties. Among the men was the subject of the posters plastered all over the city. On either side of the men also were rows of seats—they were occupied not only by men, but women and children as well. And standing in the area were police officers. They wore formal dark blue uniforms, and around their waists were belts form which hung truncheons and sheathed ceremonial daggers. They were not armed with guns. On their heads they wore long cylindrical hats. In front of the spiral staircases stood two officers each. On the right side was a desk, and a large radio was set up on it. No one was sitting there. There were a pair of headphones hanging from the back of the chair. In front of the desk stood an officer in his forties who had a stern look on his face. There was an extra horizontal strip on his hat, setting him apart from the others. A younger officer came up to him and saluted. “Did you call, Captain Warren?” The middle-aged officer called Warren pointed at a little boy who sat on one of the side seats. The boy was swinging his feet excitedly. “It’s almost Night. Keep an eye out on that boy and make sure he doesn’t fall off the balcony. I’ll take over this station.” The young officer answered and saluted him, then went up and knelt beside the boy. They spoke for a moment, and the boy began to ask him for his hat. The young officer put his hat on the boy’s head. His little face slipped right inside. As the boy laughed, Warren smiled and mumbled to himself. “That’s against regulations, but…” He looked down at the street from the balcony. The crowds gathered there to listen to the speeches were standing idly, waiting for Night to end. There was an even mix of men and women in the group. Most were of voting age, but he also saw the occasional senior. The street was not completely packed. Grey clumps of snow were visible between the people. Their voices echoed in a low rumble. Warren looked at his watch. Then he looked up. The sky was painted a dark blue, and the sun was the size of a pea. Two first-magnitude stars shone next to it. As Warren watched, even the little speck of sunlight finally disappeared. “It’s Nighttime.” He mumbled, enveloped in darkness so deep that he could no longer see the street. The moon that circled the planet once every eight days often covered the sun on the first day of the month. The solar eclipse would give birth to Night. The buzzing of an insect began humming in the dark. The hum slowly grew louder, and eventually filled the entire street. “What is that?” Someone on the street wondered, looking up at the darkened sky. A second later, the moon pa.s.sed by the sun. Faint light returned to the world as though a curtain was pulled back. A shard of sunlight began glowing brilliantly in the indigo sky. And the people in the street noticed something overhead. “?” An aeroplane was flying above them. It was cruising just above the two-story buildings, almost close enough to touch by hand. And it was moving like a slow bicycle—so sluggish that it almost looked like it was frozen in midair. The people watched, wide-eyed and jaws dropping in shock, as the aeroplane followed the street and slowly approached the balcony. “Wh, what is this…?” Bewildered, Warren watched the plane from the balcony as it drew closer. Like a backdrop in a play appearing in a moment of darkness, the aeroplane materialized where there had been nothing before. An aeroplane in the middle of the road, its wings reaching to either side. “It’s going to crash…?” Once more he was taken aback. The aeroplane did not look much bigger now than when it had first appeared. Gripped by the fear that it might come charging at any moment, Warren gaped at the craft before him. But his reaction was no different from those of the other people around him. The eyes of the many people on the balcony were fixed on the aeroplane. Hundreds of sets of eyes were on Benedict as he sat in the c.o.c.kpit. He stared directly at the balcony and grinned. The observation craft continued to cruise close to the ground. At the rate it was flying, it would soon crash into the balcony. Benedict opened the triangular window and poked his head outside. And he shouted as loudly as he could, “Move! I’m landing!” Everyone was instantly jolted to their senses. People scattered quickly from the area—some to the side, and others in the opposite direction. Benedict took advantage of the gap left behind and began landing. Like a scene in slow motion, or like a craft being lowered by a crane, the aeroplane slowly approached the snow-covered street. Just before the skis. .h.i.t the ground, he stopped the engine and the propeller. And he landed. The suspension contracted as the craft hit the ground. The sound of creaking metal a.s.saulted the ears of everyone on the street. The aeroplane slid forward, digging through the piled snow. It then came to a stop. There were ten meters to the balcony. No one was run over or hit by the aeroplane. Checking that things were all right, Benedict looked to his right. Fiona was hanging on to the instrument panel, looking down at the ground. “We’ve landed safely. No one is injured.” Fiona slowly rose, and in the darkness saw many people watching from all around. “…” “It is all right!” Benedict said loudly. Fiona looked at him. “No matter what some say, there is an historical hero beside you. You will succeed, Your Highness.” He winked. Fiona clasped her hands over her chest. “You’re right. I know we’ll succeed…” She slowly closed her eyes. She clenched her fists. Soon, Fiona opened her eyes again. “Then let’s be off, Hero of the Mural.” Benedict saluted her from his seat. “Of course, Your Highness.” The light music playing on the radio broadcast was suddenly interrupted by the newscaster’s frantic voice.
Wil piped up from behind.
The newscaster continued.
The aeroplane stood like an ill-fitting sculpture in the middle of the road. And from its side emerged a man and a woman. Around them were whispering crowds and several police officers. On the balcony, the newscaster clutching the microphone and everyone else who was seated there had run over to the railings to have a look at the commotion. Night slowly came to an end, and light returned to the eyes of the people, who had only just adjusted to the darkness. Benedict helped Fiona climb down from the aeroplane. Then, he escorted her at her side. The moment two officers stepped forward carrying truncheons, “Everyone! Everyone here!” Benedict cried in Roxchean, spreading his arms wide. The officers stopped, and the crowd began to stir. “Everyone! Policemen! I am Major Carr Benedict of the Sou Be-Il Royal Air Force! Some call me the Hero of the Mural!” That was enough to strike the crowd into awe. People whispered in excitement. “The hero…” “It’s the hero.” “Wow, he’s handsome.” “Is he for real?” “It’s the hero…” The officers exchanged glances. “I am very sorry for the loudness! But I wished to come to this place somehow! People of Ikstova! Good day!” With that, Benedict took off his hat and waved it in the air. He was greeted by a round of applause.
Allison was still circling overhead.
“Hey! Call the captain! Major Carr’s at the capital!” Someone called in Bezelese. In the communications tent in the Sou Be-Il Royal Air Force encampment, a soldier listening to the radio was giving his subordinate orders. The subordinate rushed out of the tent. “What is going on here?” The soldier in headphones wondered, setting aside his duty of receiving radio transmissions from the Roxchean military and turning his attention to the radio. Soon, the captain ran inside. His gla.s.ses were sliding down his face. “Elder…” “Shh. We must listen quietly to the end.” In the snow-covered village in the valley, almost every villager was gathered in the hall with the wooden table, staring up at the radio. The elder said quietly, “This, too, is part of our duty.” With the eyes of the crowd locked on them, Benedict and Fiona appeared on the balcony. Not only the crowd on the street, but also the politicians and women and children who were on the balcony greeted them with curious stares. The officer who escorted them up saluted Warren. “Good work. Take care of the aeroplane.” With his orders, the officer returned to the street. Warren took off his hat, and with a curious look at the woman fiddling with her hair, first saluted Benedict. “Captain Warren of the Kunst Police Force. I’m in charge of security detail today, Major Carr. We… weren’t expecting a visit, I’m afraid.” “You must know that we Sou Be-Il Air Force were doing a joint training session on the lake. I have some words I wish to tell everyone. So I came.” “That’s—” Leaving Fiona at Warren’s side, Benedict walked up to the middle of the balcony and spoke to the politicians who greeted him. “It’s an honor to meet a hero like you, Major Carr.” Though each person was different, the greeting was always the same, each time followed by self-introductions. Benedict courteously responded to each person and shook their hands one by one. Among the people he greeted was a man in his forties with his black hair slicked back. When he introduced himself, Benedict reacted. “I know you. Your advertis.e.m.e.nts were sticking all around the city. Mr. Nichto, without your advertis.e.m.e.nts, I would never have known it and I would never have come here. Thank you.” The man—Owen Nichto—smiled just as he did on the photographs. “It is an honor, Major Carr. I can’t say I was expecting you to drop in, but would you perhaps care to join me for dinner after the rally?” Benedict flashed a practiced smile. “Of course, Mr. Nichto.” Once he finished shaking hands with all of the politicians, Benedict grinned at the women sitting nearby. And with their excited screams at his back, he headed for the podium.
Allison spoke.
“A protected village, huh…?” He wondered to himself.
Allison continued to circle overhead. The sun was almost back to its full size and intensity. Benedict spoke into the microphone on the podium. His voice carried through the speakers and radios at the rally. “For arriving rudely suddenly, I am very sorry. And my Roxchean is very weak—er, bad. I am very sorry. I am doing my best to speak.” The crowd burst into laughter. One of the politicians whispered to his neighbor, “Look at that popularity. I hope he puts in a good word for the Independence Faction.” “I came to this place because there is something I really wish to tell everyone! Everyone, will you listen to this intruder?” Benedict asked the crowd. The people cheered agreeably. “Thank you! Then from now on, I will speak something very heavy. Here is someone I wish to introduce to you, but also the people listening to the radio!” Benedict went over to Fiona, who was still standing next to Warren. He took her by the hand and slowly escorted her to the podium. The only people on the balcony who didn’t look confused were Benedict, Fiona, and the little boy who was swinging his feet. Fiona and Benedict stood at the podium. The crowd went silent. Everyone looked at them curiously. The newscaster narrated the events as they happened.
Benedict cleared his throat. Every last whisper was silenced. “This lady is the person I wish to—I mean, the person I am very humbled to have a honor of announcing!” There was a dramatic pause, before Benedict finally broke the news. “Let me announce… the one daughter of Her Late Majesty the Queen; the first person in line to the throne of Ikstova, Princess Francesca!” The silence at the rally was broken by the voice of the bewildered newscaster.
“You all are surprised, right? That is not impossible. When I, too, heard the fact from Her Highness Princess Francesca, I was very surprised. Because I knew that she left this world in a fire ten years earlier!” Benedict continued. The politicians behind him exchanged glances. Some among them frowned visibly, while others could not bring themselves to pick up their jaws off the ground. Warren, standing off to the side, stared fixedly at the back of Fiona’s head. “But! But Her Highness Princess Francesca ran away from the trouble and was safely alive. But because of the scary experience, she lost her memory, and lived as a normal village lady all this time!” Benedict explained energetically. A young officer hesitantly came up to Warren. “Should we stop him, Captain? Shouldn’t we?” “Not yet.” Warren replied. “But…” “I’ll take full responsibility. But let them finish.”
Allison banked to the side, and along with Wil, looked down at the tiny streets. “There should be many people among you all who think, ‘I cannot believe this’. But I can say for sure! This person here is Her Highness Francesca in the reality! I am finished. I will step back now.” Most of the gazes directed at Fiona were dubious, yet tinged with the minute hope that Benedict was right. Fiona looked around at the people and took the podium that Benedict offered her. And just as she opened her mouth, “I object!” Someone cried from behind her. Fiona quietly turned, not surprised in the least.
Other politicians also stood at once, but Nichto gestured for them to stop. Then, stopping the other politicians who seemed to have wanted to say something, he approached the podium. Nichto drew nearer to Fiona. Benedict stood in front of her, getting in his way. He pulled the microphone stand over from the podium and placed it between himself and Nichto. “What is the matter? Mr. Nichto.” Nichto answered into the microphone. “I have no business with you, Major Carr. Nor do I have any business with the young lady.” He took the microphone stand and went up to the podium. “Everyone!” Pausing for the crowd’s attention, Nichto continued in a commanding voice. “Everyone! Though it pains me greatly to suggest, I believe we cannot allow Major Carr to continue. Some among you may wish to hear him out further; but we can no longer stand idly by as the people and the Royal Family of Ikstova are insulted. Do you not agree?” Some expressed agreement at the proposal. “Unfortunately, Her Majesty and the Royal Family of Ikstova left us ten years ago. It was a tragic incident, but a historical fact nonetheless. I’m sure I speak for everyone here when I say that it took us a great deal of time to finally part with the sorrow of their loss.” Nichto shot Benedict and Fiona a glance. Benedict smiled and held out his hand, urging him to continue. Nichto turned back to the crowd. Hundreds of people gave him their full attention. “Unfortunately, our hero—Major Carr—doesn’t seem to have thought so far, being from another land. It is very unfortunate indeed.” Then, he moved the microphone and said to Benedict, “Did you know, Major Carr? That countless people have come forward in the past decade, claiming that Her Highness the Princess, or Her Majesty the Queen were still alive? Each and every case, however, was a lie and a fraud. They were trying to make a profit from the respect and patriotism our people have for the royal family. And for your information, everyone who came forward claiming to be one of them also claimed to have memory loss of some sort. Doesn’t that sound familiar to you, Major? I don’t know why you think that this country girl is Her Late Highness. Perhaps you were fooled by her into believing that you made another historic discovery here in our remote country. But let me say this: the people of Ikstova will not stand for any more trickery. Please leave us before our anger finally boils over.” Nichto finished. Benedict turned to the crowd. Many were clearly disappointed. Some were even getting angry. “He’s right!” “We don’t need any outlanders trying to fool us!” Though a vocal minority hissed at him, most of the crowd listened in silence. Nichto moved the microphone stand back to Benedict. “Do you have anything to say, Major Carr? If not, I humbly ask that you leave us today. We are in the middle of a political rally. It is a serious affair that will decide the future of our country. Would you like to say something?” Benedict shook his head. “Nothing.” “I see. Then if you would—” “I said before, ‘I am finished. I will step back now’.” Nichto scowled at Benedict’s interruption. The latter gave Fiona a gentle push on the back and had her take the microphone. “Mr. Owen Nichto.” Her voice carried from the speakers and the radios, as did Nichto’s. “Yes, young lady? If it is not too much trouble, would you give us your name?” Fiona glared and answered curtly, “‘Francesca’.” Nichto sighed loudly. “You still insist on keeping up this charade. No citizen of Ikstova would be ignorant of how impudent it is to claim to be a member of the royal family, even if they have already pa.s.sed away.” “Of course. I know that very well.” “If you truly are Her Highness, then answer me this. How did you survive the fire, and how did an orphan survive alone all this time? And where? We will not be satisfied with anything less than a complete explanation—but I suppose your unfortunate memory loss prevents you from telling us. Although, strangely enough, it seems that you still remember that you are a princess, Your Highness.” Fiona remained silent in the face of Nichto’s sarcasm. “This is a shame. It seems—” But just as Nichto turned to the crowd, “My memories.” Fiona suddenly spoke. Nichto stopped and turned. “My memories begin at about nine years ago, after the fire at the royal palace.” “Ah, yes. Your convenient memory loss.” “Yes. But I can answer your question, Mr. Nichto. Someone rescued me from the palace, you see. And he raised me. His name was Treze Bain.” “!” Warren’s eyes, locked on Fiona for some time, turned to dinner plates. He mumbled, “Dr. Bain…” Fiona continued. “Very few people would know. Treze Bain was a doctor who visited the palace once every few days to a.s.sist the royal physician. When the fire broke out at the palace, I was rescued by the doctor, who happened to have hurried in that day. He took me to his home in the countryside. I heard from him later that I was on the verge of death for days. There were rumors back then… rumors that the fire was no accident. And the doctor also felt sympathy for me, left without memories or a family. He kept me safe in his home, telling the other villagers that I was his granddaughter who used to live in the capital. For ten peaceful years, I grew up as a normal village girl—as Dr. Bain’s granddaughter. But this past summer, he pa.s.sed away of an illness. And just before he pa.s.sed, he told me everything.” Fiona’s voice rang across the dumbstruck streets. “I thought about it for a long time. Was there any meaning to coming forward as the princess now, even though I’d lost my memories? Should I reveal the truth? That was when, yesterday, I met Major Carr Benedict, the Hero of the Mural. I asked him how he felt when he decided to make the announcement that would change the world. And this is what he said to me: ‘No matter what may happen, the truth must be told. I am certain of my belief’. So I decided to do the same, and received his help.” As she continued circling the air, Allison asked Wil,
“Interesting.” Said Nichto. “The circ.u.mstances seem plausible. But so were the stories of everyone else who attempted to defraud Ikstova. And I hesitate to say this, but it is also an excellent strategy for a potential liar to bring forward a celebrity like Major Carr to make themselves seem more believable—” “So you want proof, Mr. Nichto?” “Yes. By all means, if you can produce any. If not, I ask that you stop insulting the royal family further and leave our presence immediately.” Fiona glanced at Benedict. He nodded slowly. Reaching into her clothes, Fiona pulled out a gold necklace. Hanging on the golden chain was a small coin. Holding out the pendant over her chest, Fiona used Nichto’s own words: “No citizen of Ikstova would be ignorant of what this means, don’t you agree?”
The newscaster suddenly went silent.
Instead of the newscaster, however, Fiona’s voice came from the speakers.
“Yes. This is proof of my royal descent. My own crest. Dr. Bain returned this to me before he pa.s.sed away. Is this good enough for you?” Nichto shook his head and replied peremptorily. “If you don’t mind, please show me the pendant. You might be bluffing with a piece of metal you found at a souvenir stand.” “You’re a funny man, Mr. Nichto. Only in death does a member of the Royal Family allow the pendant to leave their possession. I’m sure you know that well. Not only that, how would you be able to judge my legitimacy?” Fiona asked, taking her fingers off the coin. Nichto pulled back his hand, unable to hide his irritation. “Of course. You’re right. But unless someone comes forward who can verify your claim, you are still a liar and a fraud. Don’t you agree?” “Of course. For once, we’re in agreement.” “Then let’s not waste any more time here. We’ll search for someone who can prove the legitimacy of your pendant and make an official announcement at a later date. Although, obviously, it will be determined a detailed fake.” Nichto said, his tone speeding up. “Why are you that anxious?” Benedict asked calmly, taking the microphone. Nichto shot him a glare. But Benedict spoke to the crowd nonetheless. “Everyone. The big reason I carried Her Highness Princess Francesca here today is this pendant. If someone can proof that this pendant is real, please come over here to this place.” There was a moment of silence. Some among the crowd exchanged glances, but no one stepped forward. “Please.” Benedict whispered in Bezelese. Then, he spoke into the microphone in Roxchean. “Is there no one?” “Did you really expect to so easily find someone qualified to make that decision? Frankly, this performance of yours is incredibly upsetting, Major. If you’ll excuse me, please do as you like.” Nichto spat. “Do you have no curiosity? This person may be Her Highness, Mr. Nichto.” Benedict asked. “This is a waste of time, Major Carr. You are being deceived.” “We do not know yet. Maybe someone will run to this place because they hear the radio.” “Then please feel free to wait here as long as it takes. Until night really comes, if necessary.” “There is no need!” Someone—not Benedict, and not Fiona—cried.
It was Captain Warren. Before anyone realized, he had come up to the middle of the balcony. As the crowd and the three people watched, Warren quietly bowed to Fiona, far enough from her that his hat would not brush against her. “What is this, Captain?” Asked Nichto. Warren turned to Fiona and the crowd, ignoring him. “Until that day ten years ago, I, Rein Warren, was posted at the palace as a member of the royal guard. And just once, not long after I joined the guard, I played with five-year-old Princess Francesca when she was out in the gardens.”
“But… if this doesn’t work…” Wil muttered without holding down the call b.u.t.ton. “I felt something strangely familiar when I first saw you today. I didn’t know what it was at the time. But now I realize—that old memory of mine was coming back to me. There is so much of the Princess’s face in yours.” Warren continued. “I still can’t say for certain who you are. And I suppose you wouldn’t remember me, either. But please. Give me a chance to see for myself. Give me a chance to confirm the legitimacy of your pendant. The crest that belongs solely to Her Highness Princess Francesca—the crest that she showed me as she played that day. I believe my two eyes are still good enough to judge.” Fiona nodded. “Wait!” Nichto cried. “Wait, Captain Warren. I’ve known you for several years now, but this is the first you’ve said anything about having been part of the royal guard. I’ve never even heard rumors of such things. It pains me to suspect an honest officer like you, but could you perhaps be in cahoots with this woman?” Warren turned. He replied quietly, not a hint of emotion rising to his face. “Of course you wouldn’t know, Mr. Nichto. After all, I never told a soul. Me, and the other members of the royal guard who survived that day… none of us revealed ourselves after the incident. How could we, having failed to protect the Royal Family? But I a.s.sure you that I am telling the truth. If you’ll visit the National Library later—though the doc.u.ments are restricted—you’ll find all the employment records of the royal guard and its members up to ten years ago. You’ll find my name there are well. If not, I will gladly ask you to take my life.” “…” Nichto looked like he had swallowed a bug. Benedict spoke up. “Thank you for the brave action. Then, we are asking you, Captain Warren.” Warren nodded and pulled off his hat. His short, clean-cut hair emerged in the light. Fiona took out her pendant and raised it to eye-level. With his hat under his left arm, Warren put his right hand over his chest and slowly knelt. And he carefully examined the little gold coin before him. There was an intricate crest on the coin. Beyond the coin, Warren could see Fiona’s eyes—and Fiona also could see Warren’s wide eyes beyond the coin. Then, Fiona gently flipped over the coin. The intricate image carved there was a flower with long petals, bowing to the lower left. “Don’t worry, Captain. I a.s.sure you, that’s the real deal.” Benedict mumbled under his breath.
The captain’s voice finally emerged from the radio.
It was followed by the cheers of the crowd.
Looking straight ahead as though that never happened, Wil’s eyes widened. “How…?” He mumbled to himself. As hurrahs filled the rally, Warren said no more and gracefully stepped away from Fiona. He carefully fixed his hat and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Captain Warren.” Warren raised his head; and without meeting Fiona’s eyes, he quietly stepped aside. He turned to his right and returned to the back of the balcony. Fiona took the microphone and spoke to the crowds. “And to the citizens of Ikstova—I, Francesca, am deeply grateful to you all.” There was an ear-splitting cheer, accompanied by the occasional shouts of ‘Princess Francesca!’. Fiona pa.s.sed the microphone to Benedict. “What do you think, everyone? Now you understand why I, Carr Benedict came to this place today?” He asked, gesticulating dramatically. The crowd cheered once more. Then, Benedict turned to Nichto, who was standing blankly. “I understand why you said that Her Highness is a fraud, Mr. Nichto. Certainly, until before, it can’t be helped that you did not believe in us. But what do you think now?” All eyes were on Nichto. He smiled. With a shake of the head, Nichto went up to the microphone and spoke so everyone could hear. “You win, Major Carr.” He grinned. “It is incredibly likely that this woman is Her Highness Princess Francesca. And I understand that you’re not a fraud with a flair for the dramatic. I made some awfully discourteous accusations against you. I take them all back. And I sincerely apologize.” “Just like a Member of Parliament, Mr. Nichto. But I was not tricked, but I like dramatics very much. Please correct that.” “Hah hah. I surrender, Major.” Nichto chuckled. With an optimistic evaluation, he looked rather elegant. Less optimistically, he looked irritating. He offered Benedict a handshake. Benedict took it. The crowd finally broke the silence with a round of applause. Nichto took the podium and spoke. “I will take my leave now and hand over the podium before I’m embarra.s.sed any further. Apologies to anyone who’s come to listen to me speak, but I’ve spoken more than my share today.” As the crowd burst into laughter, Nichto waved his hand to the cheers of his supporters. Then, he gave Fiona a deferential bow, gave the politicians a friendly nod, and walked over to the side of the balcony. Benedict took his eyes off Nichto. He turned to Fiona and nodded, satisfied. “Mr. Nichto.” Benedict said suddenly. Nichto turned. “You forgot this.” Benedict said, holding out his right hand. There was a small golden object in his fingers. “Hm?” It was a golden cufflink shaped like a rhombus. There was a beautiful crest engraved intricately upon it. Nichto looked down at his left sleeve. There was an identical cufflink. Then, he looked down at his right. “What?” Realizing that both cufflinks were still there, Nichto frowned. Fiona stared silently. “This is your cufflinks, yes? Mr. Nichto. This is a precious thing that has your family crest drawing on it. It would be troublesome if you lose it.” Benedict said. “Yes, that is mine… but where did you find it?” Nichto asked, reaching for the cufflink. But just as his fingers drew near, Benedict quickly pulled his hand away. Nichto caught nothing but thin air. “…?” “I am kidding.” Benedict said jovially. Nichto struggled to hide his irritation. Benedict turned and handed the cufflink to Fiona. Nichto turned to her. “…” Her gaze on him was icy. Clasping her right hand over the cufflink, she closed her eyes. She brought her hand up to her chest, over the pendant. Soon, she opened her eyes and spoke. “This cufflink will not be returned to you until you’ve left prison, Owen Nichto, dead or alive.” Her frigid voice carried to the ears of those nearby, and to those far away through the microphone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Nichto’s voice as well. “I accuse you of murder and a.s.sault. You’re going to prison, Owen Nichto.” The crowd fell silent in a moment of terrible calm. “Ten years ago, you committed murder. My mother, my father, and countless servants… do you understand what I’m saying? Of course you do. Yes. After all, you’re one of the people who stormed the palace that night.” Like a swarm of insects squirming as one, the crowd gasped. The eyes of all gathered there—the politicians and delegates on the balcony, the police officers, and the crowd—all were on Fiona and Nichto. Only the little boy from before was still swinging his legs, completely uninterested in the unfolding conspiracy. “Wh, what do you—” “You’re going to ask me for proof again? It’s right here in my hand. This cufflink is yours. It’s also the only thing I managed to take from the palace that night, other than my pendant.” “…” “Dr. Bain gave me this cufflink when he returned my pendant. He told me that I was clutching onto this desperately in spite of my injuries. He must not have known what it was. But the moment I received it, some of my memories came back to me. I remembered that I got a hold of this cufflink in the past, when something horrible happened to me. And when I saw this poster from your election campaign, I saw this cufflink—the same one you’re wearing now. This is proof that you were on the scene, and proof that the fire was no accident. You must have a.s.sumed that the cufflink you lost melted in the fire.” Nichto gaped on the silent balcony, lost for words. He could not manage to speak. Benedict spoke up. “Mr. Nichto. Now do you understand the reason why we picked this place for Her Highness’s presentation? I told you before. I like dramatics.” “…” “What is the matter? What do you wish to say?” Nichto answered quietly, calmly. “Many things. But I suppose anything will sound like an excuse if I say it here and now.” “I suppose so.” “So I have nothing to say. But your companion has just made an accusation against me, correct?” “Yes. You are correct.” Benedict replied. “In other words, I will stand trial. I will hire a lawyer to speak on my behalf and answer you properly, with legitimate evidence. I will prove that I had nothing to do with that tragic incident. Which will the people trust, I wonder? A cufflink someone might have picked up anywhere? Or the testimony of trustworthy witnesses who will prove that I was not at the scene of the crime?” “Please do as you wish. But do not forget that the real Highness and me, the Hero of the Mural, are going to fight with you until the end. Our evidences are this pendant, and the cufflink with a drawing of your family crest. The cufflink that only you can own. I hope you have many friends who can continue lying with a story that will be revealed to be fake one day.” Nichto snorted and turned, heading to the right side of the balcony. “Please take care of him, Captain Warren. We will go soon also.” Captain Warren nodded and stood before Nichto as he approached. “This way, Mr. Nichto. I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us immediately.” “Captain. Do you honestly believe that woman and her impossible claims?” “I believe that she is Princess Francesca. And I believe in what she says.” Nichto looked disgusted. “Of course. You really were telling the truth about having been part of the royal guard. Honest and stubborn to a fault.” “I told you earlier. If I’ve lied, you may take my life.” Nichto stood next to Warren. Warren stepped forward to arrest him. “Yes. You did. But even if you’re telling the truth—” At that moment, Nichto tackled Warren with his shoulder. “Ugh!” Warren fell forward at the sudden attack. Nichto reached for the ceremonial dagger sheathed at Warren’s side. He pulled it out, and a twenty-centimeter blade came unknotted into Nichto’s hand. “—I’ll be taking you life anyway!” As Warren lay on the floor, Nichto pierced his gut without a moment’s hesitation. “s.h.i.+t!” Benedict swore in Bezelese. Warren had quickly covered his stomach with his arm, but the dagger went straight through his arm and into his side. Blood spilled a crimson red on the balcony. “…Urgh…” “Impressive, Captain!” Said Nichto, pulling out the dagger. Blood spilled from Warren’s side as well, staining his uniform. Nichto stepped down on his face and kicked him in the head, knocking him out. Then he began running. He was not headed for the side exit—the spiral staircase leading down—instead, he charged at the guest seats in front of it. Nichto ran toward the people sitting there, who were mostly watching in horror without any idea what to do. He quickly tackled a young woman in one of the chairs. She fell to the floor, chair and all, and did not move. “…” Right before Nichto’s eyes was a young boy, looking up at him absently. For some time, all that came out of the radio were screams and angry howls.
And as if on cue, the newscaster’s voice returned to the foreground of the screams.
“What?!” “!”
Women shrieked as they fled the balcony. The one who was knocked to the ground was pulled away by a nearby officer. Most of the politicians also ran. “N, Nichto—” One of the politicians said, trying to talk him down, but Nichto shot him an icy glare. The politician backed away silently, before finally turning tail. The boy was frozen, still not understanding what was happening. Nichto pulled him up by the underarm with his left hand. In his right hand was the bloodstained dagger. He kicked a chair aside. The chair flew through the air and hit the balcony, breaking loudly for the microphone. The newscaster alone remained on the side of the balcony, continuing the broadcast. “Mr. Nichto is holding the boy hostage as he approaches Major Carr and Princess Francesca! It seems like… he’s saying something to them! I’ll raise the microphone’s sensitivity.” With the child still under his arm, Nichto shook off the blood from his right hand and stepped closer to Benedict and Fiona, who were at the center of the balcony. His calm facade was nowhere to be seen now; his slicked-back hair was a mess, and hostility was clear in his eyes. “I suppose I should have known.” Fiona said, glaring. Benedict glanced at Captain Warren, who was fallen on the floor. A younger officer went over to give him first aid treatment, and Warren slowly raised his head. “Mr. Nichto, you are the worst human. Not only the crime you did ten years ago, but the crime you are doing now will pay for certain.” Benedict warned, turning his gaze to the side of the balcony. Several police officers holding truncheons were glaring at Nichto. “I’ll have to decline. You officers over there. Don’t take a single step. Or do you not care what happens to this innocent child?” Nichto threatened, sliding the tip of the knife against the boy’s cheek. His face was smeared with Warren’s blood. Fiona took a step forward. Benedict tried to stop her, but she calmly pushed his arm aside.
Allison was indignant.
<...>
They watched from the aeroplane circling overhead. The balcony was a tiny dot below. “So you do remember. Yes. The queen and her husband both crawled out of their hiding-holes to save you, and I shot them both. They were perfect targets. But I seem to recall putting two bullets into your skull right afterwards.” Nichto laughed. Fiona shot him a furious glare. “Both of you, get out of my way. Or this boy loses his ear.” Benedict pulled Fiona away by the shoulders to the side of the balcony. Nichto walked up to the center of the balcony, which jutted out over the street. Over the railings he could see the crowd watching in transfixed silence. And in the midst of the crowd, an aeroplane. With the railing behind him, Nichto held the boy at knifepoint. “I’m going to take my leave. Conveniently enough, there happens to be an aeroplane right here in front of me. I’ll be taking it. And I’ll be asking the Hero of the Mural to pilot it for me. I’m sure that craft can seat three.” “And what if I refuse you?” Benedict asked. Nichto answered immediately. “Then this nameless boy goes down in history as a martyr. His life being on the princess’s head, of course.” “I understand.” Benedict replied coldly. And he laughed. “I understand, Mr. Nichto. I will be your hostage and your pilot. I do not wish to fly an aeroplane beside a man, but, well, this is not the time to be saying things like it.” There was an incredulous look on Fiona’s face. Benedict met her gaze. “This cannot be helped. The life of the hostage is the most important thing.” Then, he turned to Nichto. “If I wish to fly the aeroplane, I must prepare the aeroplane. Will you wait here? Or will you wait with the other people on the street there?” “I’ll stay here. Work quickly now, Major.” “Very good.” Benedict turned to Fiona. “Keep your eyes on him from this place.” “What…?” Benedict began walking away. He looked back at Fiona, winked at her, and went off to the right side of the balcony. “I’m glad the man knows to listen to reason. But what a fool. Is he really a hero?” Nichto sneered. Fiona shot him another glare. “If he heard you, he would be wondering by now if he should be happy or sad.” There were several officers remaining on the right side of the balcony. One of them was Warren, who vehemently refused to be moved as he was treated where he lay. Suddenly, he glimpsed Benedict walking in his direction. Warren weakly sat up. “Major… you can’t let that b.a.s.t.a.r.d get away…” “Please do not try too much.” Benedict replied. One of the officers came up to him stubbornly. “Are you really going to let him get away with this, Major?” “No.” Benedict replied sharply. He turned to the young officer at the radio who was desperately calling for backup from the distant police station. “Please move beside.” “What? Whoa!” Benedict took the officer’s headset, pushed his chair aside, and took the microphone. Then, he reached over to the transmitter and changed frequencies.
Allison replied immediately in Bezelese.
With the microphone in hand Benedict looked out at the middle of the balcony. Nichto stood leaning against the railing, and the boy was limp at his side. And a little ahead of Nichto, Fiona, who was probably still staring a hole through him.
Both Allison and Wil answered. Benedict pressed the call b.u.t.ton.
Wil gaped incredulously from his seat. Allison sounded enthusiastic.
Allison’s pout carried over Benedict’s astonished voice.
<...how?>
Three seconds pa.s.sed before Allison finally broke the silence.
