First fading rays of the morning sun revealed the conclusion of the disaster at Luminberg. Smoke rising from many of the buildings in the southeast up to the northern section of the city was at its thickest. Fire engines, mostly bearing the seals of other territories, scrambled and scattered throughout the city. Though the city’s fire stations were left unharmed, none of the Luminberger firefighters were awake to combat what took place that night.

  Rinvar, with Elena sharing half of the load, found himself the city caretaker, at least until the Empire assigned an actual steward to take over Luminberg’s administration. Demian Silbern, though found alive, was yet to pull away from the stupefying grip of the Wizards’ Wall’s malicious modifications.

  Hollow whirring of Blaurosen’s largest zeppelins merged with the chopping sound of giant autogyro propellers. Both fleets served the same purpose of delivering supplies to crippled Luminberg. A few brigades, mostly from lion-crested House Melvich and the tarasque flag of House Faubourg, filled the role of looking after the city and its mostly unconscious denizens.

  In a matter of hours, Luminberg itself became a hospital.

  Hotels, churches, train stations, and even schools lent space as actual hospitals and clinics were not enough to house Luminbergers as patients. The vast grounds of Luminberg’s Academy became the busiest. Classrooms were cleared of desks and chairs; white beds made of steel frames took up much of the space, save for the few chairs that were more likely to be used by a visiting doctor or nurse. Soldiers patrolled the places where a common instructor or prefect would have been present. It was less likely that the perpetrators of this tragedy would return to the city, but they would be going against a much stronger, more numerous Imperial Army should they settle any unfinished business in Luminberg.

  A nearby hotel was selected as the makeshift hospital for those who fought at the city gates. Elements of the Melvich army were fortunate that keys to every room sat near the reception desk, saving them the trouble of breaking every door to use the rooms.

  Rinvar sat beside his wife. Elena, spent and frazzled from what took place that night, did not mind the weak sunlight illuminating her face. The City Magister lay beside them; he was a quiet man, even when he became a victim of a scheme that almost killed him to sleep.

  A few knocks on the door were heard. The captain stood up and opened it in response. It was Farin. Could Rinvar remember if she was wearing the usual blacks, blue, and red uniform of the Constabulary? It didn’t matter. While she kept her posture and appearance neat, as was expected of the career officer, her face told a different story.

  “The Director hasn’t slept all night, I can see.”

  “Speak for yourself, Captain.” Farin yawned. “You also look worse for wear yourself, maybe a little too stubbly. Also, you should be ashamed for dragging Elena along with this.”

  “I haven’t left her side since we retrieved the City Magister.”

  “And you, Elena,” Farin’s stare shifted. “Good to see you’re going to be all right. How’s Magister Silbern?”

  “He should be doing well soon, at least Father’s on the way there.” Elena did not take her attention away from the elder Silbern. “A doctor checked on him a while back. A state equal to complete exhaustion, like most of the others, I was told. He’ll pull through with enough rest.”

  “Far and away from the worst outcome: good to hear that.” Farin turned her attention to Rinvar, “You should listen to the news. There’s nothing good about it.”

  “We can’t hide a city-sized blunder that fast.” Rinvar shrugged his shoulders.

  “You tell me.” Farin said, “It’s chaos all over. The Minister of Defense is fending off the journalists as we speak. I’d like to see him try to cover this one up. The other Armies of the Eight are being mobilized too, so it should be good news for your father. The old men at the top aren’t so willing to share with me their movements.”

  “I can see the action from here.” Rinvar looked through the window, where outlines of dirigibles and other aircraft moved in and out of the city.

  “Fortunately, citizen volunteers are arriving by the hundreds, as I was told.” Farin unscrewed the flask she held; the smell of coffee grounds escaped into the room. “Less military grandstanding, and more doctors, nurses, and aides: those who we truly need in this situation.”

  “We’re going to talk to those two from the Southeast Tower, are we not?”

  “I came to tell you that.”

  Farin took a swig of coffee from the metal vessel. There was an exchange of nods, followed by the director addressing Elena:

  “You must understand your husband’s work, so you shouldn’t mind if I take him off you for a while. Don’t worry, he’ll return to you intact, maybe with an additional wrinkle or two from thinking about what to do next.” Farin attempted a relaxed smile before nodding and bowing. “If you’ll excuse us, Elena. I hope the three of us can talk about something else later.”

  “Of course.” Elena nodded; there were still signs that she was far from her best after that encounter with the flame-breathing beast. “Please take care of him, Director.”

  “Call me ‘Farin’. I think we both earned respect.”

  She turned around, where Elena was halfway giving out a smile of assurance. The director wasn’t holding anything apart from the flask of hot drink. Rinvar almost forgot he was hungry, but weak groans in his stomach quickly reminded him of the need for food. He had to settle for the remaining half of the cocoa bar from last night.

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  “So, tell me about those two.” Rinvar saved his strength by melting the chocolate between his tongue and the roof of his palate.

  “Actually, three.” Farin led the way, allowing workers to move faster through the halls. “I’m including the one they were carrying on the way out of Luminberg.”

  “You mean the unconscious one?”

  “I’ll save the best for last.” Farin reached inside her pocket. She shook her head upon realizing it was empty. “The man of golden hair. A steel staff. Most unassuming.”

  “Him. I was told by the patrollers that he spoke for everyone in that group.”

  “The boy is more interesting.” Farin shot a quick look at the ceiling and resumed walking. “Also, not from anywhere in the Empire. Possible man of the Fox. He was wearing the same clothes found on some of the corpses at the South Tower.”

  “A defector?”

  “Not quite. Here’s what’s more interesting.” Farin took another sip from her flask. “We recovered a pair of guns from him. Revolvers. Not locally made, nor anything we’ve seen with the Gray Fox so far. The bullets matched those found on the Antikwald monsters.”

  “You’re implying that we have the Old Wood monster hunter with us, in this very place?” Rinvar’s mouth cleared of the last of his chocolate bar. “If he is directly responsible for some of the enemy’s losses, could he also be in Altrecht too?”

  “No surprise if he was there. But the bullets in his guns are nothing special. No suggestion of a ‘hidden armor-piercing feature’.”

  “Now, about the ‘best’. You haven’t told me about the one they were carrying away.”

  “The last? ‘Sister Mia’, or as you know her, the lady of House Schild.”

  Rinvar shook his head twice and looked into Farin’s eyes. “You’re serious? Were they abducting her?”

  “You don’t exactly call your victim a companion.” Farin mildly shook her head. “I had to put her in a separate room. I still have to think about what to do with guards falling asleep if they stay too close to her for too long. They also complain that the room she is in is strangely cold.”

  ????

  A single guard stood at the side of the door, who opened it for both Rinvar and Farin after an exchange of nods and gestures. They found the two foreigners: one was looking out the window, while the other was relaxed in bed. The special outfit the latter wore rested on the side as an ungainly clump of a cross between cloth and rubber.

  “Good morning, gentlemen.” Rinvar attempted to be formal, though these refugees gave a snicker and a nod. “Who among you is willing to talk?”

  “More grown-up stuff?” The boy opened a pack of peanuts and started snacking. “I can answer some, just talk to your fellow grown-up by the window if this takes too long.”

  “I’ll keep the questions short.” An easy pair, the captain thought. “We’ll be out of here before you know it.”

  “We’re not leaving until we’re sure she’s safe.”

  “You don’t intend to run away with your friend, do you?” Farin interrupted.

  “We’re not here to make our lives more difficult than they are now.” The golden-haired man was about to chuckle, but he stopped after the first breath and rubbed his nape. “I think running away from a country’s enforcers of law is the least idea of fun.”

  “Then we are good, or rather, are in agreement.” Rinvar took one of Farin’s notebooks before pulling out a retractable pen from his pocket. “Names, please?”

  “This one’s easy. Rook.”

  “Kirk.”

  “Surnames? Or last names?” Rinvar added.

  “I’m from the Prettannic Isles, or yes, Grand Prettan.” The captive stammered. “Kirk… Kirk of Windstorm.”

  “Last name? What’s that?” The boy’s gaze shifted from Rinvar, to Kirk and finally, to Farin. “Rook is Rook.”

  The captain nodded before he continued with the next set of questions.

  “How did you meet up with a sister of our church?”

  “I met her in that rundown town far away from here.” The boy, Rook, replied.

  “Met them, him and the holy lady, much later.” Kirk’s voice remained uniform. “It’s that city with the wide train station.”

  “Most likely Aurelburg.” Farin pulled up a chair and sat on the side between Rinvar and the foreigners. “Did she hire you to accompany her?”

  “Yes… and no.” Kirk went ahead. “I asked if she could help someone lost in a foreign land. She agreed. I would say the same for Rook here.”

  Farin looked at their faces from the sides, then she stood up to follow the men’s eyes. She stopped at the sight of Rook, who had a green and a tan iris. She felt that Kirk was someone who told it as it was: he was a lost wayfarer. Though they were relaxed, the muscular outlines in their arms suggested they were exposed to at least a form of labor, a physical vocation, or that they did more than simple travel.

  “You, Rook.” Farin gave a stern gaze to the boy. “You’ve been traveling all this time with weapons?”

  “Uh. I don’t see anything wrong. People from where I came from have at least one.” Rook scratched his head. “I thought that... two guns are better than one. That will be three, with the new one I found.”

  “I’ll cut to the chase, as promised.” Rinvar took the floor from Farin. “You’ve seen how most of the city was… put to sleep. How did you ‘stay awake’?”

  “That’s a tough question, but it’s easier if I ask you something first.”

  “Go on, Kirk.” Farin nodded at Rinvar shortly.

  “You, officers, believe in... magic and things of the sort?”

  “This place is our country’s supposed center for magical studies.” Rinvar looked at the view outside. “Don’t worry. I will—or we will—believe you.”

  “Your sister of the church can do wonders with more than just prayer.”

  “Fancy lights and all,” Rook added.

  Rinvar stopped scribbling and put his pen aside. He turned his attention to Farin, who pointed to the door outside. The captain stood up, saying:

  “My colleague and I want to talk about something without both of you needing to hear it. Make yourselves comfortable here, for now. I’ll request meals for you two. Excuse us, in the meantime.”

  The two captives nodded; hardly a change in their laid-back behavior. The door closed behind the investigators. Rinvar nodded to the guard, who grabbed a chair nearby to sit on. He addressed Farin, saying:

  “Light. Giuseppe the Etererian’s restaurant had its crystals lit when we found people inside.”

  “You told me that before. I remember.” Farin took a short gulp from the flask; the coffee was almost lukewarm. “It might be best to ask the sister after all, when she wakes up.”

  “That might take longer, if you say that the room is so cold it makes the guards fall asleep.”

  “The doctors have assured me nothing is wrong with her, physically.”

  “Maybe I’m going to need Elena to help me clear a few more things after all.”

  Rinvar had yet to visit the room where the clergywoman slept. An interest in books about magical theory, machines powered by magic, and creatures from a time when magic was widely practiced. Perhaps Elena could shed some light on his doubts. He was confident that she knew at least some of the Academy’s major events or hallmarks. The answers on what to do with Kirk and Rook lay with the sleeping lady, at least when she woke up to face this pair of Imperial investigators.