CHAPTER 317: CHAPTER 307: NO TACT

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Rumpelstadt]

The tavern as ever was dim and stale, its walls soaked in much more smoke and ale since he was last here.

"My first day of freedom," Gretchen muttered, folding her arms on the scarred table, "and you take me to a dingy tavern. You really are tactless."

Tamamo-no-Mae’s tails swayed behind her as she perched atop the table. "That’s what I tell him," she said cheerfully, sipping from a chipped cup that had been abandoned by someone braver—or dumber—earlier.

Dante stood rather than sat, leaning slightly against the table’s edge. "We still have things to discuss. This may not be secure, but it will serve its purpose."

The noise of the tavern drifted around them—snatches of drunken conversations, the shuffle of cards, the muted scrape of tankards—a lot more patriots this time.

"Right," Gretchen sighed, brushing a strand of pale hair behind her ear. She noticed the sidelong glances from nearby patrons—the kind that lingered too long, leering. Her lip twisted downward. "Seems I attract unwanted attention even outside a cell."

Tamamo smirked. "Men tend to stare when they can’t decide whether you’ll kiss them or turn them to ash."

Gretchen ignored her, fixing her gaze back on Dante. "So. You want to continue your little interrogation?"

"This isn’t an interrogation," Dante replied evenly. "It’s for your benefit as much as mine."

"Is that so?" she asked, arching a brow, leaning forward just slightly. "And how exactly does questioning me in a dive full of drunks benefit me?"

Before Dante could answer, Tamamo leaned back, nine tails rippling. "You saw what happened, darling. The moment you stepped out of those mines, the Retorta Guild was already after you."

Gretchen’s eyes narrowed, her tone skeptical. "Yes, I noticed. Hard not to when they open fire before introductions."

Tamamo hummed in agreement. "They’ve been around longer than you’d think. I trust you at least know what they are?"

"I have an inkling," Gretchen admitted, tracing her finger along the edge of the table. "A group that belongs to no kingdom, who fight under their own banner, recruiting scientists, soldiers, vagabonds, and criminals alike. Madmen with funding."

"Close enough," Tamamo said with a grin. "Only now they have more resources, more soldiers, and more reason to take interest in you. Alchemy’s practically extinct these days. And the kind you use..." her eyes gleamed, "well, it’s something else entirely."

Gretchen scoffed. "They were always obsessed. They wanted me for their experiments before. I doubt their curiosity’s changed much."

Tamamo’s smile dimmed slightly. "It’s not just curiosity anymore. You’re a relic of a craft they can’t reproduce. You’re dangerous and useful in equal measure. And they’ll come again. Harder and smarter."

"Then I’ll simply kill whoever tries," Gretchen said bluntly. There was no bravado in her tone—only certainty.

Tamamo’s expression softened with amusement. "That might work for a while," she said. "I doubt any Legatus or rank-and-file member could match you." Her tone darkened slightly. "But the Guild isn’t stupid. If they decide you’re too valuable to destroy, they’ll send something—or someone—built to counter you. A Mortifer."

Gretchen’s gaze turned toward Dante. "And what then? He’s supposed to protect me?" she asked, almost mockingly. "Or is the knight just here to make sure the witch doesn’t burn down the village?"

"I can keep you from the Guild," he said. "At least until I determine what you really are... and whether you’re a danger to anyone beyond them."

Her expression twisted into something between disbelief and amusement. "You’ll protect me," she spat, leaning back. "A noble vow for the man in shining armor. Tell me, is it instinct? Or habit?"

Tamamo tilted her head, smiling. "Careful, girl. He doesn’t like the word ’noble.’"

Gretchen ignored the fox spirit, eyes locked on Dante. "Why?" she pressed. "You don’t know me. You don’t trust me. So why play the savior?"

"Because I can," Dante said simply. "And because strength unused for purpose rots."

Gretchen blinked, her brow furrowing slightly. "That’s it? No grand ideals? No destiny nonsense?"

"I don’t believe in destiny," Dante said. "Only in decisions."

Her lips parted slightly, then closed again. For a moment, her expression softened—not in trust, but in curiosity. "Helping me just because you can," she murmured. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Believe what you will," Dante replied, straightening. "When the time comes, our paths will divide. Until then, consider this pragmatic coexistence."

Gretchen gave a short, humorless laugh. "Pragmatic coexistence. You make it sound like we’re negotiating a truce."

Tamamo’s tails swayed lazily. "Oh, it is a truce. She doesn’t trust you. You don’t trust her. And I’m the only one with enough sense to enjoy my drink while it lasts."

Gretchen sighed, rubbing her temple. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Rarely," Tamamo replied. "Silence gets boring. Besides, you two make such a dour pair. I’m doing the Gods a favor just keeping the atmosphere from collapsing."

Dante didn’t rise to the bait. His attention was on the window, where the outline of rain clouds gathered over the distant rooftops. "The Guild won’t stop," he said quietly. "You’ll need to decide whether you’re running or fighting. I can offer protection, not peace."

"I stopped believing in peace a long time ago," Gretchen murmured, her voice low, almost lost under the hum of the tavern.

Tamamo glanced between them, her eyes softening slightly. "Then maybe," she said, "you two aren’t as different as you’d like to think."

Neither responded.

Outside, thunder rolled somewhere beyond the mountains. Inside, the candle on their table flickered once before steadying.

"I suppose there isn’t much left for me to say," Gretchen murmured at last, her gaze drifting to the low candlelight between them. "Not that it matters, considering I don’t trust you. You did, after all, threaten to kill me."

Tamamo chuckled. "Tactless words from a woman still breathing," she said, tails flicking lazily behind her. "Don’t worry, dear girl. Dante isn’t fond of needless slaughter. So long as you behave, he’ll keep that pretty head of yours safe. Who knows? You might even grow to like him."

"I doubt it," Gretchen replied flatly, shooting the fox a narrow look. "Frankly, I could do without you."

"Now that’s cruel," Tamamo said in mock offense, her ears twitching. "I’m Dante’s favorite—so you’ll simply have to endure me. Besides, with Alexander and Ivan joining, our little family grows larger by the day."

"Alexander and Ivan?" Gretchen echoed, brow furrowing. "Who are they?"

"The reason we entered the mines," Dante answered, he didn’t elaborate. He never did it seems.

Gretchen waited, hoping he might continue, but when the silence lingered, she exhaled through her nose. "And what exactly brought you down there? Surely not a sightseeing tour."

"The Retorta Guild seized the mines," Tamamo said. "The town relied on them. We suspected they were after more than just ore, and meeting you... well, that proved us right."

"So you’re playing heroes now," Gretchen muttered. "How noble. The Guild will hunt me instead of the townsfolk. I suppose I should applaud your sacrifice."

Dante’s voice cut through quietly. "It isn’t heroism. It’s merely obligation. Leaving them defenseless would have been negligence."

Tamamo leaned back with a grin. "He’s right. There’s that terrifying sense of duty again. He’ll move mountains before admitting he cares. Though I suppose that wouldn’t be much of a challenge."

"I’d prefer you didn’t speak for me," Dante said flatly.

Gretchen crossed her arms. "You speak of duty, but tell me this—what happens if the Guild discovers I’m with you? Do you intend to hand me over to keep their attention away from the town?"

Tamamo waved a paw, dismissive. "Please. We’d sooner level their outpost than stoop to bargaining again."

"Level it?" Gretchen blinked. "You’re serious?"

Dante nodded once. "It would be efficient. The outpost near Rumpelstadt has likely reported to their higher command, but their immediate interest remains fixed on you. If we remove that foothold, we deny them the means to track us—or threaten the civilians."

"Destroying an entire outpost just to protect me..." Gretchen’s voice dropped, laced with disbelief. "That’s overkill."

"Sometimes the cleanest cut prevents infection," Dante murmured.

Tamamo hummed, smiling in Gretchen’s direction "Listen to the poet in steel. You’ll learn he has a talent for grim metaphors."

Gretchen eyed him for a long moment. "And what of the men stationed there? They’re people too. Are you ready to bury them for a cause that isn’t yours?"

"I don’t kill for causes anymore," Dante replied. "Only for consequences."

The simplicity of it struck her. There was no cruelty in his tone, no boast—just a certainty that chilled her more than malice ever could.

("But, anymore?")

Tamamo sighed, her tails curling lazily around her. "You’ll also find he’s not much for moral debates. Once he decides something’s necessary, the rest must just try not to stand in the way."

Gretchen shook her head slowly. "You make it sound so casual. As if ending lives were an administrative decision."

"Don’t mistake calm for indifference," Dante said, his gaze meeting hers through the violet glow of his lenses. "I know what each life costs. I simply accept the price when it must be paid."

For a long moment, Gretchen said nothing. Her fingers drummed once on the table. "Then you and I are not so different," she murmured at last. "I’ve made my share of necessary decisions too."

Tamamo chuckled under her breath. "Oh, look. The brooding knight and girl are bonding. How touching."

Gretchen didn’t even glance at her. "Don’t push it, fox."

Tamamo smirked. "Not pushing—just observing. Besides, I can tell when two people share a language."

Gretchen leaned back with a sigh. "So that’s your plan. Burn an outpost to the ground. Make me your liability. Hope it buys this town a few days of peace." She let out a dry chuckle. "Tell me, does this usually work for you?"

"Often enough," Dante said simply.

Tamamo stretched her form across the bench. "You really are a bundle of optimism, aren’t you?"

"Realism keeps one alive," Gretchen replied.

Tamamo gave a sly grin. "So, tempted to thank him yet?"

"Hardly," Gretchen said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He still promised to kill me."

"Only if you’re troublesome," Tamamo sang, teasing. "And trust me, you will be."

Gretchen sighed, rubbing at her temple. "I already regret all of this."

Tamamo laughed. "Regret’s the first step to friendship."

Dante rose silently. "Enough talk. We shall leave once we reconvene with Ivan and Alexander. Rest while you can. The Guild will not."

"Always so commanding," Tamamo muttered fondly, standing and stretching. "Though it’s not a terrible quality."

"Hmph." He grunted, "We’ll simply finish this as soon as possible. Keep an eye on her, Tamamo."

Gretchen watched him go, studying the gleam of his black and gold form under the light. "Finish it, huh," she murmured quietly. "How convenient for you two that survival and duty look the same."

Tamamo tilted her head. "He’d say the same about you."

Gretchen gave a thin smile. "Then perhaps that’s why I won’t trust him."

The fox spirit chuckled softly. "You will. Or you’ll hate him more. Either way, it’ll make the road interesting."

Gretchen didn’t answer. She only looked toward the door Dante had passed through, the sound of his boots fading into the rain.

For the first time since the mines, she realized she wasn’t sure which unsettled her more—his silence, or the way it seemed to demand an answer she didn’t yet have.